Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ If I Fall ❯ One-Shot

Author: Ryuen Nakashima

Song: If I Fall by Aqualung

Archived: Not yet. None of my fics have a real home yet *sniff*

Pairings: 1+4

Setting: At the Sanc Kingdom after the battle between the Mercurius, Vayeate and Wing Zero.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: British spelling/phraseology, angst, violence, gore, self-harm, mind games, technical bastardisation of Heero (but not really, since he is doing him a favour), and mild sap.

Disclaimer: Nothing GW related is mine. This story is. Nuff said.

Feedback: Very much appreciated. As much as I could easily do this for my own amusement, I always like to know what people think of my work. Criticism (if negative, needs to be constructive) is always welcome in my domicile so let me know either way.

Note: This is not for light reading, just like the rest of my work in the fanfiction department. Ack.

~…~ = song lyrics

`…' = thought

If I Fall

`I know he's avoiding me,' Quatre thought to himself as he sat down on the bed opposite Heero's where the perfect soldier was currently working away on his laptop. `Who could blame him after what I did… what I did to Trowa… I don't deserve to live.'

Quatre sank again into the threatening mire of self-deprecation, drowning in his own mental reprimand; knowing that the only reason he did this was that no one else did it for him. No one else would just come forward and dish out his punishment for the contemptuous act of betrayal against his former comrade.

He'd managed to keep an almost ridiculously optimistic façade up so far, but the strain of it was getting to him. As much as he told himself and Heero that Trowa had to be alive, he knew it was bullshit. The knowledge that Trowa had probably survived the explosion and suffocated to death in outer space made him retch.

As another wave of sickness washed over him, he swallowed it, hurrying across to the adjoining bathroom and vomiting violently before collapsing against the bath. He panted for breath and angrily wiped the tears from his eyes. "Why…" he whispered to no one in the world his question. The frustration boiled up inside him, threatening to explode in some horrible way, straining his mind and his heart.

~Swept away~

~By the wonder of it all~

His head swam and he felt an impending migraine start, the kind of head-splitting pain that he'd had so often, rendering him practically unconscious with the agony. He wanted so badly to control this pain. He couldn't make it go away anymore than his frustration and he knew that. The only way to control it was to enhance it.

Quatre screamed inwardly as he raked his nails across his skin, sadistically regaining his control over the anguish spreading through him. It was what he deserved after all. He winced as he felt the blood trickle gently down his arm and grabbed a handful of tissues to clean it up. It wouldn't do to let Heero know he was so weak.

`Why won't they?' he wondered again, this time more tears accompanied his thoughts, falling on his open wound and burning like acid against his blood. He couldn't understand why no one would punish him. It made sense: do something bad, receive punishment. That was the way things worked, wasn't it? Maybe it wasn't.

All Quatre knew at that point in time was that he needed things to work that way. He needed the punishment, needed the torture… *wanted* the pain.

~So amazed~

~Never saw it coming~

He gasped louder than he meant to as he ripped at his arm again, immediately drawing the attention of the other Gundam pilot in their quarters. Quatre's head snapped up as he heard a knock at the door followed by Heero's strong, stoic voice.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

`How like him,' Quatre laughed silently, knowing more about the man that Heero would expect. `Making a point to ask about the situation rather than to show he's concerned for another's well being.' His amplified emotional ability was the source of his knowledge and often so much more misery than he needed… possibly what had driven him down this path of self-mutilation in the first place.

The space-heart was anything but the `blessing' his sister had called it. It was a curse at best and a suicide-inducing disease should it choose to become so intense.

"Yes…" Quatre replied weakly, though he knew the deep, cavernous pain was marked in his voice.

~Left me dazed~

~And I don't know where to turn~

The blond Arab sighed and grabbed some more tissues to stem the flow of blood, which was now pouring from his arm. The throbbing in his head intensified again as he leant on the basin's rim to haul himself up onto the edge of the bathtub.

"I don't believe you," Heero stated flatly, still on the other side of the door. "Let me in."

Quatre felt the dizziness set in and was barely aware of the Japanese pilot's voice at all. All he knew was the soreness from his arm and the pounding from his head were slowly seeping into the rest of him, melding together until they overwhelmed his senses. He was just a pile of flesh, bones and all-consuming guilt.

~Here and now~

~Seems I'm standing on the edge~

He heard a vague crack and a slam somewhere a few feet from him and looked across to see the door no longer on it's hinges. "Oh," Quatre said quietly to himself, still cradling his arm, letting the remorse back in to eat him alive.

"Uhh…" he murmured quietly as he sensed his body being lifted from the ground by a strong pair of arms, presumably Heero's, he wasn't sure. His eyes had been closed for around two minutes now. Was it two? Maybe it was more. He could barely figure out where his body was in relation to the ground let alone count seconds.

Quatre took a deep shaky breath and rested his head to the side, coming into contact with Heero's chest. Heero was so warm and comfortable, the rhythmic beating of his heart was so reassuring to hear, something so powerful against his fragile mindset.

~Looking down~

~I can clearly see your face~

He winced as he was laid to rest on his bed. At least it felt like his bed, he couldn't be too certain. The warmth left him and he opened his eyes wearily to see why. Heero had put him down and was opening a box on the other side of the room. Quatre's eyes slipped closed again and he fell asleep for a while, forgetting everything when faced with the pain that had now crept into every inch of his body.

Quatre was woken abruptly not more than a few seconds later as the pain suddenly centred at one point on his right arm. He opened his eyes to see Heero sat holding Quatre's arm by the wrist with one hand, cleaning the blood and scraps of skin from the blond's wound with his other.

The Sandrock pilot screwed his eyes shut as the pain registered again in his mind, the rubbing alcohol stung like nothing he'd ever felt before. `Why is he doing this?' he wondered. `He's trying to heal my arm… but I've acted so contemptibly, betrayed him, betrayed myself… why is he caring for me like this?'

~In the crowd~

~Makes me feel I'm not alone~

"Heero?" Quatre said hesitantly. The boy looked pointedly at the arm he was now dressing with a bandage and didn't respond. "Heero?" he asked again, even more timidly this time. He knew what the Japanese pilot was capable of.

"What." Heero replied begrudgingly, his gaze still not leaving Quatre's arm.

The cerulean eyed boy took a deep breath. "Don't… don't you hate me?" he asked pleadingly, almost as if he was willing the answer to be positive. "Hate me for what I did? …did to Trowa…"

"No." Heero said curtly, even now refusing to look Quatre in the face.

The blond frowned. "I don't understand," he stated. No reply. "Why not?" he began again. "Why wouldn't you hate me? After everything we've all been trying to accomplish, after we realised all our goals were the same and we should work for each other and not against… it's all been shot to hell and it's all my fault. Can't you hate me for that…?"

"No."

~If I fall~

~Will you catch me?~

Quatre sighed almost imperceptibly. He thought, no, he *knew* he could more easily drain blood from a stone than get this man to speak. "Why?" he begged the question again. "Why don't… why don't you hate me?"

Heero stopped and glared at his charge, tightening the bandage more than necessary. "It's not your fault," he said aggressively, promptly turning back to redo the dressing, stickler for perfection that he was.

"I…I don't…" Quatre trailed off, taken aback by this particular response. "But of course it's my fault-"

"That system has a life of it's own," Heero interjected brusquely. "There's nothing anyone can do about it if you choose to feel guilty."

Quatre flinched emotionally at the boy's hostility. But was it hostility or just brutal honesty? Quatre hardly felt that he was making an active choice to feel as guilty as he did. He felt the frustration welling up inside, slowly flowing through his muscles and under his skin, making him squirm with the cringing feeling that drove him to distraction.

He bit his lip and clenched his fists, savouring the pain it induced and the way it seemed to quell the crawling in his skin. He reluctantly let out a defeated moan and sank back against the headboard.

Quatre jumped as Heero grabbed him by the shoulders and held him in place. The Japanese pilot glared at him with a white-hot intensity and smacked him across his face. "Stop it," Heero demanded roughly. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," he added, raising his voice level just a little as Quatre attempted to question him.

The blond looked down and unclenched his fists to see the cuts caused by his own nails and yet more blood he'd begun to draw from his body. He let out a shaky breath and gulped down the sickness again.

~Seems to me~

~I'm exactly where I dreamt~

"Oh," Quatre said weakly. "I'm sorry… it wasn't intentional. It just feels good," he added honestly. "If it bothers you, I'll stop."

Heero hesitated. Why should it bother him? Quatre wasn't hurting him, wasn't affecting him in any way. No, that wasn't right. Watching a fellow Gundam pilot wound himself through uncontrollable guilt and regret when he had no half-decent reason to feel that way was *definitely* affecting him. It was painful to watch, painful to even know that the young Saracen was in so much mental agony.

"You're damned right, it bothers me," Heero barked, pushing his face up against Quatre's. "Pull. Yourself. Together."

"I can't!" Quatre wailed zealously, straining the muscles in his head to suppress the floods of tears he knew would fall if he let up. "Trowa's *dead* Heero! It's all down to me that things have become so bad and nobody will punish me for it! I've already pulled myself together enough to know that much. I wouldn't care! I wouldn't care what somebody did to me, something *anything*!"

The Wing pilot's eyes blazed and he beat Quatre about the head again. "You want punishment!?" he said, stating the fact more than asking the question. "Fine!"

The younger pilot gasped as Heero grabbed hold of him and pushed him down onto the bed, delivering another blow to his face with the back of his hand. He then grasped Quatre's hair, pulling his head forcefully up and punching him in the stomach, mentally cursing himself for the "favour" he was doing his friend.

Quatre gasped as the pain surged through his body, every last little ounce of guilt seemed to be pouring out of him with the relief that the mental anguish had been converted into a physical one. Physical pain was something he had no problem dealing with, it was his psychological threshold that was so low.

~I would be~

~And the view from here is~

The blonde pilot finally let the tears fall from his eyes as Heero gave him one last forceful slap across his face and let go of his hair. At last, the strain became too much and his body shook with sobs as he lay down on the bed, wrapping his arms around himself and facing away from Heero who simply stood there, astonished at what he'd done to him.

Even if his expression never changed, Quatre knew how much Heero felt physically sickened by what he'd put his comrade through. The little blond smiled slightly to himself. His space heart told him how much Heero loved him, though he was sure he'd never show it.

Heero sat gently down on the bed as the young Arab sat up and stared at the sheets. He kept his stone expression in place and took the little blonde's hand tentatively, flinching as Quatre jumped at the contact. As their eyes met, the Sandrock pilot suddenly got the feeling that Heero had had some kind of epiphany.

`Maybe he just understood what I've been trying to tell him,' he wondered, sheepishly looking Heero in the eyes as they sat together on the bed. `I wonder if he knows how much his affection means to me…'

He soon got his answer. His eyes widened in surprise as the Wing pilot closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Quatre's in a kiss full of soft, sympathetic passion.

As amazed as he was, Quatre was beyond exhaustion - both mental and physical - and closed his eyes as Heero kissed him so beautifully, knowing that he had probably never kissed anyone before, let alone another boy. `Then again, neither have I,' Quatre thought as he let it ride, wondering if kisses came any more perfect. `I couldn't imagine anything better than this,' he mused happily. `Why can't this go on forever…'

~Something to see~

~But I need a hand to hold on to~

Neither was sure just how long the kiss lasted, all they could ever know about that moment was that they had never felt so human and never would feel so human again without each other.

As their lips parted, Quatre felt tired and dazed, gazing helplessly into Heero's eyes and smiling softly. "Heero… I just… thank you," he said quietly, wincing at the movement of his face against the bruises that were already forming.

The Japanese pilot grimaced and shook his head. "For what…?" he mumbled angrily, he couldn't think of one moment in his life when he had loathed himself so intensely.

Quatre took his hand and locked their fingers together. "For keeping me sane," he replied plainly, leaning in towards Heero again, this time initiating the heart-stopping kiss himself. Heero hesitated before stroking the blonde's face with his hand and wrapping his free arm around Quatre's shoulders, deepening the kiss as he slipped his tongue in between the slightly younger pilot's lips.

Quatre panted softly as the kiss stopped for a second time, resting his head on Heero's chest and nuzzling his neck affectionately. He smiled as those strong arms embraced him and he heard the powerful, reassuring heart-beat again. "Okay," Heero said contentedly, possessively drawing Quatre closer and tightening his grip.

Unbeknownst to even himself, the young blond pilot was already letting feelings of love flourish inside him. Heero, who wouldn't blame him for anything could still dole out some punishment, purely because he knew that Quatre needed it. Yes, even with all the atrocities he'd already committed, he could definitely envisage a decent life if Heero was there to be counted on. He was well aware that, with the war raging the way it was, that would probably never happen.

`Ah well, maybe things *will* change,' Quatre thought to himself. `I doubt it… but maybe.'

~If I fall~

~Will you catch me?~

~end~