Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ His sanctuary ❯ His sanctuary ( One-Shot )

Title: His sanctuary

Author: Vampire Louis

Rated: Pg 13 (not really but it's dark enough to put up a pg13 rating)

Warning: Hints of 3x4 depending on how you look at it.

Disclaimers: I do not own Gundam Wing so please don't sue me I'm poor, seriously.

Author's notes: Well, I was talking with a fellow writer (melon-the-dragon-angel) and she was speaking of her discontentment over how some people write Quatre. Being ever sick of his cute and fluffy nature she asked me to write something a bit darker. Gladly I accepted her request and here is final result! I hope you all enjoy my take on the darker side of Quatre's psyche.

Special Thanx to: Mel (of course) and Shaeric Draconis just cause she supports all the fics I write.

For Mel...

~*~

Quatre smiled as he waved to a few of his men that he passed in the hall on the way to his room in one of his many estates. The smile remained and shared itself with all of those he passed; never faultering even when he stopped for just a moment to talk to a few people. When they were done speaking he moved on to his destination. His room. His sanctuary. Gently opening the door he slipped in and silently shut the oak barrier behind him; leaning against it while slumping down in the same turn. The smile faded into a frown and all the cheer that had been there before was gone. In his room, his sanctuary, he didn't have to pretend. He didn't have to be strong. In his place of privacy he could be the real him.

In his room there was no one to perform for; no one to encourage and no one to bring hope to. He didn't have to wear that painted smile and fake hope, not as long as he was in his sanctuary. Drifting away from the door the blond dipped further into the darkness and closed his baby blue eyes as it consumed him. It was silent in his sanctuary, not a thing moved or breathed there but him and sometimes he wished for not even that. In this darkness he was free to be what he really was: a creature of hidden sorrow and darkness. Beneath all the good cheer and sweetness lay a faulty spirit and blackening heart that had really been there all along. Though despite it all, no one seemed to catch onto the fact he was always so close to cracking his perfect composure and illusion that he made for himself.

The Arabian boy's eyes adjusted to the cave-like darkness and he let out a softened breath of air. He had lost it once. Broke down and gave in to the chaos and torment welling up in the pits of his very being. The result? He went insane. He made the wing zero and began to destroy. The memory of what actually happened was very blurry for him but the stories and results were all too clear. He didn't catch on at first but lately he noticed how his men seemed to act much more careful around him. And once he noticed that his eyes promptly opened and he noticed it wasn't just his men; it was everyone. A bitter smile twitched at the corner of the boy's lips. That's right. Be careful what you say. Be careful where you step. Quatre might just go crazy again and kill them all. Quatre, the ticking time bomb. Quatre, the walking loony who belongs in a nut house and not a gundam. They may not say that's what they're thinking but he can read it clear as day in their eyes and expressions. He pretended not to notice but each caution filled glance and side-stepped movement drove another spike of pain right through his very core. He lost it once and now he was going to pay for it forever. There was no winning in this game. Not now, not ever. All the years of goodliness were washed away in a few moments of madness. Goes to show that being good is only good if you're perfect... something he knew he was not.

Slowly the gundam pilot began to remove the articles of his clothing until he was nude in the obscurity of his sanctuary. It was a wonder he had never lost it before. Perhaps it was denial? Having always believed he was doing the right thing and never really wanted anyone to die turned out to be a sufficient barrier between him and his madness. But the problem laid in the fact that people -did- die and -he- was the cause. He was their killer and he had to face that and accept it. He was a murderer. Quatre Rebarba Winner, a boy who's hands were stained in the blood of many. Moving towards his bathroom Quatre felt a numbness wash over him. How nice it was to feel nothing. When you felt nothing you didn't feel guilty or dirty or empty or pained... you felt... nothing. A dove-like hand broke the stillness as it reached out and turned the knobs of the bathtub so that hot water burst through the tap and began to fill the tub.

"I wonder..." He mused out loud. That's right, crazy old Quatre talked to himself too... and what's best, he never finished his thoughts that were spoken aloud.

When the bath was filled and steaming hot he carefully turned the water off and fell into a state of motionlessness; just sitting there with his eyes closed while he inhaled the vapors rising up to dampen his skin and heat his body. The room was cold with the window open and the chills running down his spine made the water much more inviting then normal. Gingerly he rose fully to his feet and stepped into the tub, shivering as the hot water felt like it was burning him. The sensation would have been unpleasant if he wasn't so numb all around. Continuing to move he was finally up to his neck in hot water and enjoying every minute of it. Tired eyelids slipped over weary eyes and he rested his aching body for the first time in several days. Fighting a new enemy was never an easy task and tended to drain him more then he let on.

The boy lost track of time while he lay in the heated water and relaxed but it wasn't important to him right then. Or was it? Nagging him in the back of his mind he thought for just a moment that there was something important he was forgetting. Something that was supposed to be happening at a certain time... or was that just his mind playing tricks on him? It seemed to enjoy doing that more often then not. Resting on he could hear a clock sound in the distance. In an hour it would be tomorrow for him and that tomorrow would be another day he would put on his smiling mask and continue to fulfill his part in the endless play he mockingly called his life. Many minutes moved by and the water was either beginning to cool or he was getting used to it... perhaps both?

One hand moved to a small table near by and began to root around for something on it or in it, it didn't seem as if he was being rather particular as to where he was searching. Suddenly the hand stopped and gripped a tiny object that it pulled over to the tub so his azure eyes could get a better look at what his hand had found. A thin metal object that liked to bite his skin and made it bleed. The proof in that was in the small tears of crimson winding down in tiny streams from his hand to the massive body of water in the tub. What an interesting little thing in his hand had found. The faintest ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he continued to inspect the small object with scrutiny. How easy it would be to end everything right then. Just two flicks of the wrist and a bit of waiting then it would all be over for him. No more fighting, no more suffering, no more sorrow to eat away at his porcelain soul. There would be an oblivion of nothing. Peaceful, calming, nothing. Glancing at his wrist he noticed that it looked so small and so easy to quickly cut without much effort. The temptation was great and his lack of will was growing greater.

"Quatre?"

A voice? The blade hid inside a now closed hand and his attention turned to the door where he noticed a figure standing. One emerald eye was watching him but it spoke of nothing its owner was thinking. Those emerald eyes were silent eyes.. he liked that. He liked the fact that he had to guess and pry to see what the boy was really thinking because the other boy's face and eyes almost never betrayed him.

A clock struck midnight, "I forgot you were coming." The blond spoke though his voice did not sound like his own.

"I noticed. You're bleeding again."

"I noticed. You staying again?"

The tall brunet with emerald eyes moved towards the tub and knelt beside it, taking Quatre's hand into his so he could open it and pull the razor from inside of it out. Quatre just watched the other boy do so. Trowa was always looking after him. Trowa the half-masked clown. Yes, Trowa wore a mask just like him; he liked that about Trowa.

"Of course." The older boy was speaking gently to him, not because he was afraid of the other boy but because that's just who Trowa was. Trowa was never afraid of him, even after what he did to everyone and him. He was grateful to have Trowa around.

"Thank you Trowa."

"You're welcome Quatre."

"How long will you stay for?"

"For as long as need me to."

"If I asked you to stay forever?"

"Then forever I would stay."

Quatre offered a sad smile but a real one. Only Trowa got to see his real smiles because only Trowa was deemed worthy enough. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the blackness of the bathroom. To hell with the world and whatever they had to think. Everything he truly wanted was right there in his sanctuary where he didn't have to pretend and he didn't have to hide behind his mask of smiles and good cheer. Where he could just be him.

~*~

Fin.