Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Inverse ❯ Chapter 3

Inverse

By Misanagi

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: Angst, violence.

Pairings: 3x4x3, D+R

Spoilers: The end of the series.

Timeline: After the battle of Libra.

Chapter 3

She wasn't proud of what had happened. She always thought of herself as a strong person and she took pride in the fact that her distance from the world had allowed her to acquire an apathy that protected her. That's why she didn't like the fact that she had frozen in front of the Gundam pilots.

They noticed right away, of course. She wasn't a fool and would never underestimate their powers of observation. Normally she was a great actress- keeping others away from your thoughts was essential - but at that moment, all of her energy was busy trying to get a hold of something to stop the long fall down the rabbit hole. A wave of dizziness hit her and her mind snapped back into place; the mask was firmly on and the coldness back on her eyes.

It was too late, it could be seen in their eyes; she had been discovered.

Heero Yuy was looking at her. His eyes were fixed on hers and she felt as if those blue orbs were looking at her very soul. She felt naked, bared of all the layers that protected her, but no matter how vulnerable she felt, she would hold her ground. Her eyes never lowered and if it wasn't for Duo's words they pair would probably still be standing there, neither willing to admit defeat.

"There is no way I'm going to sit back and let someone like Quatre stay behind bars."

Both Heero and Dorothy looked at him at the same time.

"Let's go," said Heero, turning around and heading straight for one of three space Leos suits that were in the hangar.

Wufei and Duo followed him without saying a word. Trowa walked past Dorothy and climbed into the recently vacated Taurus. She noticed how he immediately checked the fuel level and the working state of the machine. When he was done he looked at her, his expression as cold as Heero's. "He has giving you something no one else could; the rest is up to you, don't waste his gift."

The hatch closed and the rational part of Dorothy made her walk to the door and get into the pressurized part of the satellite before the gates opened and the four mobile suits ventured though space.

She didn't want to think anymore. There wasn't a logical thought left in her brain. When someone thinks, they use the basis and limits of what they know to analyze any situation and come to a conclusion; but now, Dorothy was empty, all the limitations were gone and there was a big void in her that she couldn't comprehend.

She looked at the stars as she stood in silence, marveling at the world she was seeing for the first time.

* * *

Trowa maneuvered with the controls of the Taurus, keeping a good velocity towards the ship. The trip wasn't challenging at all, even less for someone used to handling a much complex piece of machinery and under more difficult circumstances. Piloting a mobile suit was second nature to him and that was a useful skill since his mind was somewhere else.

When he had last seen Quatre he had noticed that there was something weird going on. It wasn't normal for the blond pilot to space out but he had been doing that the whole day. Trowa knew that Quatre was improving and that was the only reason why he agreed to go out that night, that and the look on Quatre's eyes when he had said that he wanted Trowa to go.

Trowa snorted, he should have known better.

Quatre was too stubborn for his own good and sometimes too kind. How well could he know Dorothy Catalonia? Why did he care so much?

Trowa would be annoyed if he didn't care for Quatre so much. He was angry but he didn't know what to do with that emotion. He couldn't be angry at Quatre - as much as he wanted to, and the blond deserved it, Trowa just couldn't manage to blame him for what he had done. Caring was a part of Quatre, even if sometimes it put the Arabian in adverse situations but Trowa accepted him the way he was.

Before he left MO II, Trowa had thought that Dorothy was responsible for what had happened and all his rage had been directed towards her. But Trowa had seen the look on Dorothy's face when she realized just what Quatre had done for her. It lasted only a second - Dorothy was very talented at hiding her emotions - but for a moment Trowa had seen a completely different person than the one he had met inside the Libra.

A sigh escaped Trowa's lips as he saw the ship in front of him. Quatre had managed to do something Trowa hadn't thought was possible, now Trowa only hoped that the blond pilot was safe and that they weren't too late.

* * *

The good thing was that the medication was finally wearing off and Quatre was feeling more alert and less tired than before. The bad thing was that the pain was returning in full force.

Quatre resisted the urge to grab his side, he knew it wouldn't help at all and that it would alert anyone observing that he had a weakness. He could feel their eyes on him and he knew that it was just a matter of time before there would be trouble.

He had left the hospital room in a rush and didn't have time to look for some lock picks to take with him. It was something he was used to doing whenever he left a room. Gun, check; two extra clips, check; knife, check; electronic key, check; spare gun, check; extra clip, check; lock picks, check. He had only taken one gun, the knife and the electronic key; he had never felt more naked before. The war was over but old habits die hard and it was too soon for Quatre to just kick back and relax.

The captain had insisted on searching him before he was taken into the cell. Quatre didn't protest and willingly surrendered his weapons. He was very capable of taking care of himself but he wished he had those lock picks and was able to take those handcuffs off.

The looks he was receiving were getting more intense by the minute. Quatre took a deep breath as another wave of pain hit him. From the outsider's point of view Quatre looked calm and collected but the pain he was experiencing would have any other man curling in a ball and begging for morphine.

It was going to be a challenge and he knew that. Quatre kept his eyes on the wall in front of him, seemingly ignoring the five men he could feel approaching. He adjusted his position slightly, every muscle in his body ready to move at a moment's notice.

One of them was injured; he was limping slightly and his left wrist was held protectively near his chest. The man was foolish to underestimate Quatre and attack when he was injured. The short one was probably the most dangerous; he hadn't taken his eyes away from Quatre and he was being more careful in his approach. The tall one behind him was second in command, he followed the other one's movements and that indicated that he wouldn't act if the small one wasn't helping him. The two that were on the front of the group were obviously of no real concern. Thugs, they walked carelessly without evaluating the situation, talking with each other and they weren't even paying attention to Quatre. That was not the way you approached a potential target.

The group stopped in front of Quatre and he directed his eyes towards them as if he had just noticed them. He didn't stand, and he promptly looked away like he wasn't interested at all in what the men wanted. It worked; he wasn't looking at them but he could just see the smirks disappearing from their faces.

Quatre didn't want to fight but he read people too well; he didn't doubt that the men in front of him would give him trouble no matter what. He decided that the best thing he could do was show them, as quickly as possible, that he wasn't a good person to mess with.

"So, you're the new kid in town?" Quatre heard one of the thugs say.

"You noticed," replied the blond, without even bothering to look at the man who had spoken to him. It was not an easy role for him to play; he hated being cold and rude, but he knew that it was the best strategy and the fastest way to deal with those men.

"These are the rules; we're in charge here and you do things our way,"commented the second thug.

Quatre barely stopped the snort that came with the image of those guys in charge of anything. Instead he kept ignoring them and said nothing.

He could feel the tension rise even more; the guys were getting annoyed.

"If you want our protection you'll have to pay a fee, like all the others and if you refuse… well let's just say things may get a little shaky, if you know what I mean."

"I don't need anyone's protection," said Quatre in a bored tone. The brat was so much easier to play.

The man was really slow. Quatre saw the hit coming before the man even finished pulling his leg back to kick him. He got up in a flash, dodged the kick and used the force of it to throw the man off balance, delivering a quick and effective hit to his back, the steel around his wrists helping to magnify the effect of it. Thug number one had hit the floor.

He stood facing the other men and used his best bored expression. Inside, he was paying for his fast movements and his injury was hurting even worse than when he got it. He was hoping that the adrenaline rush would hit him soon. He was going to need it.

The injured man took a step back, showing a little more intelligence than Quatre had first given him credit for. The second thug was about to charge at him when the short man stopped him. He took a step forward and stood just in front of Quatre. They were almost the same height but Quatre knew that you can't judge an opponent based only on appearance; that had been the thug's mistake.

"That was very impressive, where did you learn it?" asked the short man.

"I picked it up in the war," answered Quatre. It was a good reply; it gave the guy an idea but it was vague enough not give anything important away.

"If you are here, I guess you fought on the losing side too."

"There are no winners in a war," said Quatre in an uninterested voice that hid the true depth of his words.

"Yes there are. Those people out there laughing and partying while we rot in here, won."

"I wouldn't call dealing with a broken world and the consequences of a war, winning. A person who lost everyone close to him isn't a winner, a family who no longer has a home and is now living on the streets has won nothing and the soldier who fought for the sake of peace has only won years of nightmares." Quatre could feel the anger building inside him. If the world didn't understand the price everyone had to pay for the peace they were still trying to build, then all was lost.

The short man didn't look pleased at all. Quatre could see his body tensing as he was getting ready to attack. "Are you with us or against us?" he asked, looking Quatre in the eye.

"I don't think sides are needed anymore," said Quatre and immediately used his hands to block the blow aimed at his head. Not a moment later he kicked the man back, sending him right into the arms of his tall follower.

Quatre could feel all the eyes in the room directed at him, they silently pitied the fate of the boy who had dared to defy those men. Well, Quatre would just have to prove them wrong - if his wound would allow him.

* * *

As soon as the outer doors were closed and the pressure of the room stabilized, Trowa and the other pilots opened the hatch and exited the mobile suits. The room was soon filled with seven soldiers who were obviously expecting them.

"We only let you through because we have strict orders not to shoot any mobile suits. It's peace time, after all," said the soldier who appeared to be in charge. "State your business and be on your way, or we'll be forced to put you in detention."

Duo grinned and looked at the man, "Well, since it was such a beautiful day in space, we thought we could drop in, check your elegant establishment, share some war stories, and free a prisoner. You know, the usual."

The soldier was quiet for a moment. "Take them to the captain!" he finally screamed, not looking at all amused by Duo's words.

Five of the men circled the pilots and motioned them to walk through a door. "Don't try anything funny," said one of them as he pointed his gun at Duo's head.

The pilots walked silently through the narrow metal corridors. There was one soldier leading the way with Heero and Wufei behind him. Following them and with their guns trained at their heads, were two other soldiers. Trowa and Duo walked silently behind them, with two other guards at their tail.

The narrow corridor put the soldiers at a clear disadvantage; Trowa noticed it and he knew the others had too. The soldiers should have kept their distance, especially if they didn't know the capabilities of the enemy. It was their mistake and they would pay for it.

It happened simultaneously and they didn't even have to signal each other to do it. Wufei hit the collarbone of the man in front of him, sending him quickly to unconsciousness. Heero dropped to the floor and swiped the legs of the men behind him, putting them off balance. As soon as they hit the floor he pressed a point on their necks to make them fall asleep instantly.

Duo hadn't even turned around. He simply used his elbow to make the soldier drop his weapon and then a swift kick to the stomach did the trick. Trowa turned around and took the gun from the soldier's hands before he had time to react. He used the same technique as Heero and the soldier soon fell to the floor.

Not a shot had been fired, not a sound had been made.

They grabbed the soldiers' weapons, not because they needed them - they each had their own - but because you didn't leave behind an armed fallen enemy.

"Seven minutes," said Heero simply.

They all understood and started running to the end of the hall, the soldiers' weapons still in their hands.

* * *

Those cuffs were really starting to bug him. They had their advantage and Quatre had made sure to use them as best as he could but when he was fighting four men he really wished he could have more mobility with his hands.

The injured man was almost out of the fight. Quatre had aimed his blows to his wrists and the guy was one blow away from quitting. The thug had fallen quickly. He was careless and Quatre had used the small chain of his handcuffs to asphyxiate him enough to knock him out. The thug was currently on the floor next to his friend and breathing, as far as Quatre could see.

The blond pilot really hated that. He didn't like fighting and injuring people but he wasn't going to just let them beat him to a pulp for refusing to do things their way. He hadn't fought a war simply to surrender to the first group of brutes he had encountered.

The tall man was trying to kick him from behind. Quatre sensed him and turned around, quickly delivering a kick of his own. The tall man hit the floor but Quatre knew he wouldn't be down for long. He took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the fight. All his senses were alert and his body moved more by instinct than by thought. Maybe that was why he didn't notice that he had managed to reopen his wound during the fight.

He was bleeding and unfortunately the short man noticed it before him. Quatre moved just in time to deflect the sharp kick that was aimed at his side but the man's foot still managed to brush his injury. The movement was too fast and Quatre fell to the floor, landing sharply on his shoulder. His mind quickly supplied that his shoulder was just bruised, his injury on the other hand…

Quatre moved to stand but stopped when he saw the sole of a shoe racing rapidly towards his face. His cuffed hands were quckly pushed in front of his face and absorbed the blow. The blond grunted as he felt the steel press against his skin.

He was down and outnumbered, that simply wasn't good.

Quatre ignored the pain and managed to get on his hands and knees but when he was about to stand up, the short guy delivered a blow just into his injury. He collapsed again, his hands pressing the wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

"Now you are finished," said the short guy as he threw his foot back to kick Quatre again.

But the action was never completed and the short man collapsed with a surprised look on his face. Heero Yuy stood behind him with an angry look only his friends would notice.

The tall man had fallen after a couple of Trowa's blows, and the injured man was backing away like the coward he was.

Quatre groaned as he put his hands on the floor and gathered the strength necessary to get up. He got to his knees and panted. A hand was put in front of him and he gladly took it. The help was much needed, his side was hurting worse than he could remember and he was feeling weaker by the moment.

He let himself use the body beside him as a crutch, that was something he would never do unless he trusted the person and Quatre trusted Duo Maxwell with his life.

"Let's go," said Heero as he waked calmly towards the door, where Wufei was waiting for them, his eyes scanning the crowd for signs of any trouble. There was none; the crowd of prisoners parted quickly at the sight of the armed young men.

Duo took the cuffs off Quatre's hands in a matter of seconds and the blond heard the American wince after he saw the red marks on his wrists.

"Oh man," said Duo very softly so that only Quatre could hear him. "I would hate to be in your shoes, Trowa's going to kill you."

* * *

Leaving the ship was relatively simple. The captain and the five armed men were still unconscious and the two guards left at the hangar decided that facing four armed men by themselves wasn't worth it.

The only problem left was transportation. Everyone but Quatre had a mobile suit to use but the cockpits were too small to fit two people.

Trowa walked to a Leo suit that was at one of the corners of the hangar. He got in and checked the system and fuel to work out if the machine was in good condition. After he was sure everything was okay, he signaled Duo to bring Quatre. They both helped the Arabian to get inside.

"I need to erase all the programs to be sure that they can't control the suit after we launch," said Trowa as he hacked into the suit's computer. "That means we can't preprogram it to take you to MO II"

Quatre simply nodded. Trowa could see the pain and exhaustion in his eyes but decided that this wasn't the time to talk to the Arabian. Trowa knew Quatre too well and there was no way the Sandrock pilot was going to listen to him at that precise moment.

"You don't have to pilot," Trowa told the blond, keeping his worries hidden for the time being. "We can tow you if it's necessary."

Quatre shook his head. "I've piloted in a worst state, I think I can manage the short trip to the satellite," he said in a confident voice.

Trowa didn't buy it. He knew that Quatre was very good at hiding his pain behind the polite mask but the white shirt the Arabian wore, now covered in red, was enough to give him an idea of the pain his friend must be in.

"You need to save your strength; we are only stopping at MO II to get our Gundams and then we'll leave," said Trowa simply.

Quatre looked confused for a moment but he hid the emotion quickly. "Where are we going then?"

"I'll tell you over the com link. We need to go now and we are wasting time."

Trowa saw Quatre nod before he closed the hatch.

"That suit is property of this ship, you can't take it!" screamed the soldier who had received them when they arrived.

"We are just borrowing it," said Duo as he got into the Leo he was using. "You can pick it up at MO II in an hour or so."

The soldier looked as if he wanted to say something more but Duo's hatch was already closed. Trowa ignored the man and got into the Taurus. "I suggest you get out of the room and open the gate," he said casually to the soldier. "We don't want to be forced to use the beams to open it."

Trowa saw the look of surprise and fear on the soldier's eyes before the hatch closed. He powered up the suit, checked the systems as usual and prepared for take off. The gate was soon opened and the five suits launched into space.

Quatre's tired face appeared at Trowa's screen. "So where are we going after we get the Gundams?" asked the blond, failing miserably to hide the pain in his voice.

"To visit some of your friends," answered Trowa. "The Maguanac ship is waiting for us twenty minutes north of MO II."

* * *

Quatre sat on his bed looking at Trowa. It had been a long day. He had hardly managed to get Sandrock into the Maguanac ship; he was getting weak from the blood lost and the pain in his wound wasn't helping at all.

The look that Rashid gave him when he saw him get out of Sandrock told the Arabian that after Trowa was done with him, Rashid would take care of whatever was left, if there was something.

Quatre's wound had been stitched closed and the pain killers he had in his system were making life more bearable, a little dim but bearable. He knew that he would fall asleep soon but he wanted to talk to Trowa before that; it was important.

"Why did you do it," asked Trowa after a long moment of silence, his eyes fixed on a distant point on the wall.

"I needed to," said Quatre simply. He realized that Trowa already knew the answer to his question but needed to ask it anyway.

"You need to stop this, Quatre. One of these days you are going to get yourself killed." Trowa slowly moved his eyes from the wall and rested them on Quatre. His face held a blank expression but those green eyes spoke volumes. Trowa was scared.

Quatre moved his hand and placed it on Trowa's shoulder. "Maybe, but no one lives forever and that is not a bad way to go."

Trowa's eyes changed before Quatre even finished his sentence. They were angry now. "That's a quick way to go too. I won't let you sacrifice yourself… us, anymore."

Silence.

"Us?" asked Quatre, almost in a whisper.

Trowa's eyes had to be the most expressive things he had ever seen. They were now filled with care. "I don't know what we have right now, Quatre, but I would like to explore what could be. I can't do that if you are no longer with me and I don't want to spend my life asking myself 'what if'."

Quatre smiled. A genuine smile that he knew at the moment he would only share with Trowa. "I would like to explore that too," he said and rested his head on Trowa's shoulder, letting sleep take him over.

* * *

She was standing in front of the big metallic doors that separated her from the former Queen of the World. Her head was held high and her blonde hair was falling down her back in the wavy locks that had resulted after she finally let it free from the braid. The uniform that she had worn until moments ago had been substituted for a simple but elegant dark green dress.

On the outside, Dorothy looked ready to meet with one of the most influential people of the world, on the inside she felt more insecure than she had ever felt in her whole life. If she were a coward, she would have simply ran, there was nothing keeping her on that satellite but that strange and new sense of wonder she had acquired or found only a few hours ago.

There was a part of Dorothy that was screaming for her to get out but that other one, the one that had been mute all those years and that just recently had gotten a voice, was calmly telling her that she was walking the correct path. She didn't know where that path would lead but she did know that the next step was Miss Relena's office.

After taking one deep breath, she knocked once and waited.

"Come in," said a voice from inside the room.

Dorothy pushed the button that would let the door slide open and bowed her head just a bit. She always did that when she met Miss Relena. The small bow showed respect but Dorothy's eyes never lowered; she always kept her gaze fixed on the other woman, letting her know that her respect didn't mean her submission.

Relena was sitting behind a desk and she looked up from the paper she was reading. Dorothy could see the surprise on the other woman's face but it was quickly hidden by the political façade Relena Peacecraft wore so well.

"Dorothy, I didn't expect to see you here," said Relena in a calm and controlled tone that Dorothy knew was just a clever mask for all the questions she wouldn't voice.

Dorothy could never expect something like that from herself either. It had been only a few days and everything she had built in several years had crumbled at her feet. The weird part was that she felt liberated; like someone had finally released her from the world of illusions she had trapped herself in.

Now, she was facing a different world, one that didn't obey any of the laws that she had created. She felt like she was walking over stained glass windows and that at any moment she would make a false movement and the glass would shatter at her feet, taking with it this new world she had recently discovered.

It was a scary road to travel but she had made a decision, she needed to try. The world was moving in an unfamiliar pattern and the only thing that remained still was the woman in front of her.

"In life, Miss Relena, we are often faced with the unexpected."

-Owari