Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Innocence Lost ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Ryoko 03, Enigma's Kitten 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.20.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 451 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.20.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 451 | Status: Completed
Disclaimers: I own nothing Gundam Wing, or there would have been a hell of a lot more yaoi going on!! Hehehe, it would have been so obvious that NO censor would be able to make it kid-friendly!!
Warnings: Angst, NCS, death, a little WAFF.
Symbols:
//thoughts//
{memories/flashbacks}
Summary: One of the pilots takes advantage of another. When the others find out, Wufei takes matters into his own hands to ensure that justice is served.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Innocence Lost
by Ryoko 03
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You're pretty, you know that?"
Trowa looked up, startled. "Um, no. But thank you."
The blond smiled and continued staring at the other teen thoughtfully. "*Very* pretty," he said again, one hand tapping at a few of the decorative blades lain out on the table. "I'm sure someone as pretty as you has had a few lovers, ne?"
The European teen suddenly felt very nervous. "Anou... no, actually... what's gotten into you, Quatre?"
Quatre shrugged and flashed another smile. "No lovers, then?" he nearly purred, selecting one slender dagger from the blades on the table. "That's hard to believe. Someone as pretty--nay, *beautiful*--as you should never sleep alone."
A cold chill worked its way down Trowa's back. "Quatre? I'm not sure I understand--"
"Innocence suits you," the blond interrupted, toying with his dagger. "I *like* innocents, you know...."
"No," the brunette said, shaking his head and inching his way towards the door, "I didn't know...."
Turquoise eyes flashed in warning; then the slim dagger was imbedded in the wall next to Trowa. The slender pilot froze, green-and-gold eyes widening as another cold chill raced up his spine. He was now *very* aware that he was in danger here, and cursed himself for not reading the warnings signs better: the sudden compliments, the knife collection laid out for quick access, the purring tone of voice....
Before he could gather his wits enough to run like hell, he felt cold steel against his throat. His body tensed completely, eyes displaying his shock and terror. Something was terribly wrong here; the Quatre he knew was a gentle soul who would never harm a living creature.
"Naughty," Quatre whispered dangerously, pressing the knife to his captive's throat and smiling at the small droplet of blood that sprang forth on the pale flesh. "Trying to run away. I'll have to punish you now, pretty one."
Trowa whimpered softly, not daring to speak. When one has a sharp blade *dangerously* close to one's throat, self-preservation is very high on the list. The dangerous blond smiled darkly at the sound and moved to bite the other boi's shoulder. He drew a bit of blood, which he lapped away delicately, enjoying the taste.
"Mmmm," he remarked, "I think you will be *very* sweet to break. More so than Yuy."
"...heero...?" the European teen whispered, his fear growing even more.
"Mmhmm. He screamed. A *lot*." The blond smiled again and moved so that his captive was pinned against the wall. "Just like you'll scream for me."
Cold steel at his throat was the only thing that kept Trowa from bolting. He whimpered as he felt the smaller pilot's free hand reach around to undo the snap on his jeans, pushing them down out of the way along with the boxers he was wearing. Then, without a word, Quatre drew the knife back and knocked the brunette's legs from beneath him. The pale bishounen hit the floor with a thump and a yelp, but was unable to recover before the knife was pressed to his throat once more. Frightened emerald locked with smirking turquoise.
"So pretty," the dangerous teen purred, sliding his own pants and boxers down out of the way. "So innocent... will you scream for me?"
Slender hips snapped forward on the final word. And Trowa did scream. His world was filled with pain and fear, all revolving around this person that he had thought of as his friend. It hurt.
It hurt that his friend--his FRIEND!--was doing this to him. It hurt that he could do nothing to escape. It hurt in all ways, shapes, and forms. And all Trowa could do was scream.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sound of the door slamming downstairs was what slowly drew the broken child on the bed back to consciousness. A pained whimper escaped him, and he curled up into a small ball in the center of the stained sheets.
Quatre hadn't stopped after he'd come inside him, forever stealing away the innocence that he had barely managed to cling to over the years. The knife had been taken from his throat and employed at various points of his body, decorating his torso and legs with thin red scars that would take time to heal. And then he'd used it *inside* the shattered teen....
Trowa sobbed softly, curling up even smaller as he continued to bleed slowly onto the formerly white sheets of his own bed. The other pilot had moved the action here after the knifing, at which time he'd raped him twice more before the world had gone black.
He had no way of knowing how long he lay weeping on his bed, his body wracked by sobs. He curled up into himself, weeping for that which he had lost and for the knowledge that he was not the sole victim of Quatre Raberba Winner's 'affections'.
Downstairs, the door opened once more, but the broken boi didn't hear it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Finally," Wufei sighed, stretching slightly as he tossed his duffle on the floor. "I thought we'd never get done there."
"Hn," Heero replied, dropping his own bag on the floor. "I will admit it took longer than anticipated, but at least we completed our mission."
"Hai, hai, 'ninmu kanryou'," the Chinese boi sighed, heading for the stairs. "You'll send the information to the scientists, ne?" At the cobalt-eyed teen's nod, Wufei continued, "Good. I'll see if anyone else is 'home' and then start dinner. It *is* my turn."
Heero sweatdropped and merely nodded, quickly turning his attention to his laptop as his erstwhile friend left the room. He remained cool and tense until he heard Wufei start down the hall; then his shoulders slumped. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the dark-eyed youth wasn't going to suddenly reappear in the doorway, Heero turned his arms over to frown at the scars that decorated them. The marks were delicate, carefully placed so that one would not notice them under simple observation, but in the Japanese boi's eyes far worse than any other scarring his body would ever receive.
These were marks created by someone he had trusted, someone he had thought of as a friend. Even now, Heero would not remain alone in the same room as Quatre for even a minute. And sometimes, he could still smell the blood....
The Japanese boi's head snapped up as a warning bell went off in his mind. He *did* smell blood. Just the faintest hint, but it wasn't just in his mind. Warily, he stood and began a careful search of the room, cobalt eyes peeled for anything that seemed out of place.
He had gotten halfway around the perimeter of the room when a small wet patch on the carpet drew his attention. It looked as if someone had made the effort to clean up something before it had a chance to stain, and kneeling to get a closer look, Heero's trained eye noticed a tinge of red....
{"So sweet... so innocent...."
"Quatre... don't do this...."
A cruel smile. "Beg."
"Please... please don't...."
A laugh. "And so trusting, too! Will you scream for me?"}
"HEERO!!!"
Wufei's voice caused the Japanese teen to snap out of his thoughts. There was a note of panic in the usually stoic warrior's voice. Fearing the worst and yet hoping he was wrong, Heero rose and bolted down the hall.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While Heero remained in the living room, Wufei had headed towards the bedrooms. He was tired, that was true, but since it was his turn in the rotation to cook, he would save sleep for after dinner.
//Hm, if Maxwell's here maybe I can talk him into taking my turn... on second thought,// he quickly amended as a peek into the braided pilot's room revealed that he was still away, //maybe we'll just order takeout. I'm too tired to make anything!//
He turned towards Trowa's room and smiled slightly. If his best friend was 'home', things would be a bit more interesting. Ever since the night of his defeat at Khushrenada's hands, the European teen had fascinated him. There weren't many people who would offer hospitality to someone who felt worthless, much less offer reassurances.
In truth, Wufei had grown to love the other boi dearly. But he was still too leery to tell him so. After all, what had loving Meiran gained except for her untimely death? No, he would simply love Trowa silently... for now.
A frown marred his features as he reached the door to the brunette's room. The door was slightly ajar, something that Trowa would *never* tolerate. He always kept it shut tightly when he wanted to be alone--at which point Wufei would knock and await permission to enter--or wide open if he was feeling more sociable. It was *never* just barely shut like this....
And, if his hearing wasn't playing tricks on him, there were poorly muffled sobs coming from within the room.
A sense that something was terribly, horribly wrong fell over the Chinese pilot, and he pushed the door open the rest of the way. The sight that met his eyes was horrific.
The European boi appeared even more fragile than he normally did, clad only in the tattered remains of a turtleneck sweater. Where the fabric was torn, Wufei could see thin strips of blood decorating the fair skin. Several more cuts covered his legs, and the sheets were stained with blood that was still oozing from the numerous wounds on the boi's body. He lie curled up in the center of the bed, head buried against his chest and arms wrapped around himself, his sobs of pain and despair wracking his slender frame.
For a moment, all Wufei could to was stare in horror; then his instincts took over.
"HEERO!!!" he screamed for the other pilot, knowing that his tone was one of near panic and not caring, before he rushed into the room and carefully touched the shattered teen. Trowa's body tensed at the touch, a whimper breaking from his throat and causing Wufei's heart to break a bit more.
"Shhh... it's me, Tro. Wufei." He kept his voice low and soothing, one hand moving to gently stroke the brown hair in a comforting manner.
"...wufei...?"
"Hai, Wufei." He continued to stroke the boi's hair gently, looking up when Heero arrived in the room and pleading for help with his eyes. He spoke again, his words directed at Trowa although his gaze was on the Japanese teen: "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear."
The cobalt-eyed teen looked ill, but he cleared his throat and asked quietly, "Can you carry him? We need to get him to the hospital--"
"No!" Trowa curled up into a smaller ball, shaking his head violently. "No hospitals! I can't--"
"You *have* to," Wufei said gently, coaxing the pale teen to uncurl and cradling him gently. "You're in bad shape, Tro. I don't know enough to take care of your injuries, and neither does Heero. Please. We'll both stay with you the whole time."
"...promise?" the frightened teen asked, his voice very soft. "You won't leave?"
"I promise."
Trowa remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded and allowed the Chinese boi to pick him up. Heero blanched at the sight of the cuts on his friend's legs, eerily reminiscent of his own scars, and moved into the room to peel the stained sheet from the bed. The Asian teens tucked it around their friend, well aware that it could be useful in both keeping their friend warm and revealing some evidence in the crime, and swiftly left the house.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Owari Part One
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Warnings: Angst, NCS, death, a little WAFF.
Symbols:
//thoughts//
{memories/flashbacks}
Summary: One of the pilots takes advantage of another. When the others find out, Wufei takes matters into his own hands to ensure that justice is served.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Innocence Lost
by Ryoko 03
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You're pretty, you know that?"
Trowa looked up, startled. "Um, no. But thank you."
The blond smiled and continued staring at the other teen thoughtfully. "*Very* pretty," he said again, one hand tapping at a few of the decorative blades lain out on the table. "I'm sure someone as pretty as you has had a few lovers, ne?"
The European teen suddenly felt very nervous. "Anou... no, actually... what's gotten into you, Quatre?"
Quatre shrugged and flashed another smile. "No lovers, then?" he nearly purred, selecting one slender dagger from the blades on the table. "That's hard to believe. Someone as pretty--nay, *beautiful*--as you should never sleep alone."
A cold chill worked its way down Trowa's back. "Quatre? I'm not sure I understand--"
"Innocence suits you," the blond interrupted, toying with his dagger. "I *like* innocents, you know...."
"No," the brunette said, shaking his head and inching his way towards the door, "I didn't know...."
Turquoise eyes flashed in warning; then the slim dagger was imbedded in the wall next to Trowa. The slender pilot froze, green-and-gold eyes widening as another cold chill raced up his spine. He was now *very* aware that he was in danger here, and cursed himself for not reading the warnings signs better: the sudden compliments, the knife collection laid out for quick access, the purring tone of voice....
Before he could gather his wits enough to run like hell, he felt cold steel against his throat. His body tensed completely, eyes displaying his shock and terror. Something was terribly wrong here; the Quatre he knew was a gentle soul who would never harm a living creature.
"Naughty," Quatre whispered dangerously, pressing the knife to his captive's throat and smiling at the small droplet of blood that sprang forth on the pale flesh. "Trying to run away. I'll have to punish you now, pretty one."
Trowa whimpered softly, not daring to speak. When one has a sharp blade *dangerously* close to one's throat, self-preservation is very high on the list. The dangerous blond smiled darkly at the sound and moved to bite the other boi's shoulder. He drew a bit of blood, which he lapped away delicately, enjoying the taste.
"Mmmm," he remarked, "I think you will be *very* sweet to break. More so than Yuy."
"...heero...?" the European teen whispered, his fear growing even more.
"Mmhmm. He screamed. A *lot*." The blond smiled again and moved so that his captive was pinned against the wall. "Just like you'll scream for me."
Cold steel at his throat was the only thing that kept Trowa from bolting. He whimpered as he felt the smaller pilot's free hand reach around to undo the snap on his jeans, pushing them down out of the way along with the boxers he was wearing. Then, without a word, Quatre drew the knife back and knocked the brunette's legs from beneath him. The pale bishounen hit the floor with a thump and a yelp, but was unable to recover before the knife was pressed to his throat once more. Frightened emerald locked with smirking turquoise.
"So pretty," the dangerous teen purred, sliding his own pants and boxers down out of the way. "So innocent... will you scream for me?"
Slender hips snapped forward on the final word. And Trowa did scream. His world was filled with pain and fear, all revolving around this person that he had thought of as his friend. It hurt.
It hurt that his friend--his FRIEND!--was doing this to him. It hurt that he could do nothing to escape. It hurt in all ways, shapes, and forms. And all Trowa could do was scream.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sound of the door slamming downstairs was what slowly drew the broken child on the bed back to consciousness. A pained whimper escaped him, and he curled up into a small ball in the center of the stained sheets.
Quatre hadn't stopped after he'd come inside him, forever stealing away the innocence that he had barely managed to cling to over the years. The knife had been taken from his throat and employed at various points of his body, decorating his torso and legs with thin red scars that would take time to heal. And then he'd used it *inside* the shattered teen....
Trowa sobbed softly, curling up even smaller as he continued to bleed slowly onto the formerly white sheets of his own bed. The other pilot had moved the action here after the knifing, at which time he'd raped him twice more before the world had gone black.
He had no way of knowing how long he lay weeping on his bed, his body wracked by sobs. He curled up into himself, weeping for that which he had lost and for the knowledge that he was not the sole victim of Quatre Raberba Winner's 'affections'.
Downstairs, the door opened once more, but the broken boi didn't hear it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Finally," Wufei sighed, stretching slightly as he tossed his duffle on the floor. "I thought we'd never get done there."
"Hn," Heero replied, dropping his own bag on the floor. "I will admit it took longer than anticipated, but at least we completed our mission."
"Hai, hai, 'ninmu kanryou'," the Chinese boi sighed, heading for the stairs. "You'll send the information to the scientists, ne?" At the cobalt-eyed teen's nod, Wufei continued, "Good. I'll see if anyone else is 'home' and then start dinner. It *is* my turn."
Heero sweatdropped and merely nodded, quickly turning his attention to his laptop as his erstwhile friend left the room. He remained cool and tense until he heard Wufei start down the hall; then his shoulders slumped. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the dark-eyed youth wasn't going to suddenly reappear in the doorway, Heero turned his arms over to frown at the scars that decorated them. The marks were delicate, carefully placed so that one would not notice them under simple observation, but in the Japanese boi's eyes far worse than any other scarring his body would ever receive.
These were marks created by someone he had trusted, someone he had thought of as a friend. Even now, Heero would not remain alone in the same room as Quatre for even a minute. And sometimes, he could still smell the blood....
The Japanese boi's head snapped up as a warning bell went off in his mind. He *did* smell blood. Just the faintest hint, but it wasn't just in his mind. Warily, he stood and began a careful search of the room, cobalt eyes peeled for anything that seemed out of place.
He had gotten halfway around the perimeter of the room when a small wet patch on the carpet drew his attention. It looked as if someone had made the effort to clean up something before it had a chance to stain, and kneeling to get a closer look, Heero's trained eye noticed a tinge of red....
{"So sweet... so innocent...."
"Quatre... don't do this...."
A cruel smile. "Beg."
"Please... please don't...."
A laugh. "And so trusting, too! Will you scream for me?"}
"HEERO!!!"
Wufei's voice caused the Japanese teen to snap out of his thoughts. There was a note of panic in the usually stoic warrior's voice. Fearing the worst and yet hoping he was wrong, Heero rose and bolted down the hall.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While Heero remained in the living room, Wufei had headed towards the bedrooms. He was tired, that was true, but since it was his turn in the rotation to cook, he would save sleep for after dinner.
//Hm, if Maxwell's here maybe I can talk him into taking my turn... on second thought,// he quickly amended as a peek into the braided pilot's room revealed that he was still away, //maybe we'll just order takeout. I'm too tired to make anything!//
He turned towards Trowa's room and smiled slightly. If his best friend was 'home', things would be a bit more interesting. Ever since the night of his defeat at Khushrenada's hands, the European teen had fascinated him. There weren't many people who would offer hospitality to someone who felt worthless, much less offer reassurances.
In truth, Wufei had grown to love the other boi dearly. But he was still too leery to tell him so. After all, what had loving Meiran gained except for her untimely death? No, he would simply love Trowa silently... for now.
A frown marred his features as he reached the door to the brunette's room. The door was slightly ajar, something that Trowa would *never* tolerate. He always kept it shut tightly when he wanted to be alone--at which point Wufei would knock and await permission to enter--or wide open if he was feeling more sociable. It was *never* just barely shut like this....
And, if his hearing wasn't playing tricks on him, there were poorly muffled sobs coming from within the room.
A sense that something was terribly, horribly wrong fell over the Chinese pilot, and he pushed the door open the rest of the way. The sight that met his eyes was horrific.
The European boi appeared even more fragile than he normally did, clad only in the tattered remains of a turtleneck sweater. Where the fabric was torn, Wufei could see thin strips of blood decorating the fair skin. Several more cuts covered his legs, and the sheets were stained with blood that was still oozing from the numerous wounds on the boi's body. He lie curled up in the center of the bed, head buried against his chest and arms wrapped around himself, his sobs of pain and despair wracking his slender frame.
For a moment, all Wufei could to was stare in horror; then his instincts took over.
"HEERO!!!" he screamed for the other pilot, knowing that his tone was one of near panic and not caring, before he rushed into the room and carefully touched the shattered teen. Trowa's body tensed at the touch, a whimper breaking from his throat and causing Wufei's heart to break a bit more.
"Shhh... it's me, Tro. Wufei." He kept his voice low and soothing, one hand moving to gently stroke the brown hair in a comforting manner.
"...wufei...?"
"Hai, Wufei." He continued to stroke the boi's hair gently, looking up when Heero arrived in the room and pleading for help with his eyes. He spoke again, his words directed at Trowa although his gaze was on the Japanese teen: "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear."
The cobalt-eyed teen looked ill, but he cleared his throat and asked quietly, "Can you carry him? We need to get him to the hospital--"
"No!" Trowa curled up into a smaller ball, shaking his head violently. "No hospitals! I can't--"
"You *have* to," Wufei said gently, coaxing the pale teen to uncurl and cradling him gently. "You're in bad shape, Tro. I don't know enough to take care of your injuries, and neither does Heero. Please. We'll both stay with you the whole time."
"...promise?" the frightened teen asked, his voice very soft. "You won't leave?"
"I promise."
Trowa remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded and allowed the Chinese boi to pick him up. Heero blanched at the sight of the cuts on his friend's legs, eerily reminiscent of his own scars, and moved into the room to peel the stained sheet from the bed. The Asian teens tucked it around their friend, well aware that it could be useful in both keeping their friend warm and revealing some evidence in the crime, and swiftly left the house.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Owari Part One
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~