Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Somewhere I Belong ❯ Broken Tapestry ( Chapter 13 )

Author: Arithion/Arithkenshin

Email: arithkenshin@yahoo.co.uk

Title: Somewhere I Belong

Rating: NC17

Archives: http://www.goldenyaoihuggle.com/welcomepage.htm , http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/ under Arithkenshin

Pairings: 1x2, 3x4x5, S+U

Warnings: Angst, self-mutilation, Yaoi, Psychological, Drama, Action, Suspense, Romance,

Disclaimer: Not mine already! Stop rubbing it in.

Summary: Sequel to Some Way Back. How will Duo deal with the things of the previous eighteen months? How will the others deal? Why are otherwise healthy children dying? When everything else seems forsaken, can hope pull you through?

Notes: Again, I want to thank people for bearing with me. But as you can see, good intentions mean little when the story laughs and won't cooperate. It's ok though, Q is threatening it, so cooperation should be easier now.

Thanks to Sol for her constant form of encouragement "Write SIB… now." And I hereby glomp the War Room: CYT, Casey, Mal and Sol; as well as all my regular readers ;)

Somewhere I Belong: Broken Tapestry

Mira stared out the window, a slight frown on her face. They'd finally given in and put bars in the windows. It was probably her most recent attempt to break the hold they had over her that clinched it.

She sighed and moved sluggishly away from her barred view, hugging her arms around her body, because all of a sudden she felt decidedly cold. Her body was rebelling against what her mind told it to do, and she wondered idly if her reduced dosage would eventually result in her functions hibernating.

Her eyes opened wide and she ran the thought through her head again. Did they know? And just as soon as the hope had come, it was dashed. Of course they knew. After all, he was the doctor administering the drug to her every day.

#*#

A cloyingly sweet smell permeated the room. Fluorescent light bounced off stark white walls, eventually reflected in the hundreds of glass vials decorating the workbenches. A pale pink glow hovered at waist level, glowing as the light fed the contents of each vial.

The doctor no longer noticed the odour, having grown accustomed to it many years ago. His slick black hair belied his age, making it rather obvious that the colour was maintained through artificial means. It was late afternoon. Although the sun couldn't be seen in that part of the building, the lack of other personnel gave the time of day away. Apart from the Doctor and his visitor, the laboratories were empty.

"Well, Davies? What is it that couldn't wait?" The doctor absently tapped his foot, creating an impatient rhythm.

Davies glanced down at the foot in irritation, before deciding to speak anyway. "The production line needs to step up its output. Our stocks are getting low."

A cruel smile spread over the doctor's face. "Getting low? That's some output." The tinge of disbelief in his voice was barely noticeable.

Running a hand over his bald head, Davies glowered. "There are costs involved that have nothing to do with money, and you know it, Larson."

Walking over to one of the curious machines holding the vials, the doctor flipped a switch, ignoring his guest. Larson turned around, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am well aware of this. I make sure we have the monetary funding. You should be insuring that those little delivery boys of yours don't get overpaid with the wares you're supposed to be selling."

Davies eyes flashed. "They aren't getting overpaid with them. Our clientele has increased to the extent that we need more couriers, and hence more wares."

"The books?" Larson raised an eyebrow.

"You can't even take my word for it after all these years." The statement hung in the air; while Davies bent down to retrieve something out of his briefcase. He negligently tossed it at the doctor, who caught it easily.

Larson frowned as he scanned through the contents of the palm held computer. "I don't have the time to proof this right now. I'll do it later tonight. For now you can take a new batch of stock with you. Just one." His eyes never left the information.

The bald man swallowed his irritation with obvious difficulty. "Just one…for now?"

"Yes. For now." The doctor's eyes burned with suppressed exasperation. "I have to balance a few things before the next batch is ready. That will take 24 hours anyway. Pulling the funds from our `supporters' is no longer as easy as it used to be. The merchandise isn't fully paying for itself yet."

"We can up the price…" Davies voice trailed off as the doctor's glare intensified.

"The circulation isn't prevalent enough yet. The price stays until the addiction has spread. Then we cash in." Larson's tone was final. Davies knew better than to argue with him.

#*#

Une blinked as Duo left the room. Trowa and Wufei were having a heated discussion, and Wufei had his hand on Trowa's arm in order to prevent the green-eyed man from following their blond lover. Her gaze rested on Heero's scowling face, and she sighed softly. For some reason she hadn't even thought about the effect the information might have on Quatre. It hadn't even crossed her mind, and now the slim chance that the pilots would help her was dwindling rapidly.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, and Une could only hope that Duo and Quatre would come back soon. If she couldn't win Duo over to their cause, none of the others would come. Duo's acceptance was critical. After the whole Habito affair, she knew the pilots' estimation of her had hit rock bottom.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, hands clenching and unclenching as she tried to rally her thoughts. A gentle, almost imperceptible touch brushed the small of her back, causing her to relax. Une glanced out of the corner of her eyes at Sally with silent gratitude. This whole meeting was worse than she'd thought, and yet somehow not quite as bad as she'd feared.

The door opened, and Duo ushered in a slightly pale Quatre, whose face was, nevertheless, determined. Quatre didn't look at anyone, including his lovers, sinking down into his chair, blue-green eyes staring determinedly ahead, but focusing on nothing. The intensity of the gaze made Une shiver.

"Now, did anyone have any questions?"

Heero grunted. "What exactly is it that you expect us to do?"

Une took a deep breath. Crunch time.

#*#

Quatre would have to later admit that he wasn't really paying any attention to anything that Une had to say after he got back to the room. He felt like he was floating, like he was floundering without the hope of rescue. When she had taken a break in the story, he had had to get out of the room, straight away. He didn't even think about the possibility of anyone following him.

But Duo's words made sense, when he came to stand next to Quatre at the balcony railing. Quatre had had to choke down his own reaction, and realise just what it was costing Duo to be in that room as well. If his best friend could do it, then Quatre figured he could at least put up an appearance and deal with his backlash later on.

At least, that's what he hoped he could do. Quatre just wasn't that sure that it was definitely going to work for him. The thoughts wouldn't stop running around in his head. Winner enterprises - his corporation, or at least the corporation he was a part of - was a huge conglomerate. Its funds encompassed massive rebuilding enterprises undertaken on earth and the colonies. It was a far-reaching organization from which many people benefited.

He shook his head a little, to clear the thoughts from it. Quatre knew he'd been neglecting some of his duties lately, but that was why he had a board of directors. They were paid handsomely to take care of things in his absence. Maybe he'd been ignoring his duties too much. His face creased in a frown, as his thoughts dragged him further and further away from the conversation.

Quatre almost yelped in surprise as a hand brushed his elbow. Wrenched from his sobering thoughts, he looked to the side to see Duo's concerned face. Duo leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Stop beating yourself up. We'll do some digging tonight. See what we can find."

For some reason, those few lines made Quatre feel one hundred times better. He managed a brief smile at his best friend, and directed what he could of his attention to Une. He'd make it through the briefing, and then he'd find out the details she was omitting.

#*#

Maellin watched the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon. James had left the house earlier, a frown on his young face, his posture defeated. Mae sighed as the visual ran unbidden through his head once more. He hated what he was doing, what he was being forced to do. His fingers clenched and unclenched themselves in the frustration for which he had no other outlet.

Blond hair fell into his eyes. He flicked it out with annoyance. His attention wandered, thoughts straying to the duties of his `employment'. He was to guard the children. They were seen as a valuable commodity. But how was he supposed to guard them when they were taken out from under his nose and… and punished? Mae let himself wilt to his knees, cradling his head in his hands. He was in so deep, and he didn't know how to get back out.

His thoughts drifted, encompassing everything he needed to analyse in the blink of an eye. It was the way he was made, one of his abilities. He was wasted as a guard for the orphanage…and they knew it. It didn't matter how much he analysed things; he always drew a blank. He could see no way out of his current situation. If he chose to take his own life, then his sister would suffer. That was his whole reason for giving in, in the first place. It would all be worthless, because she would die after him.

Mae shifted his position, bringing his legs up in front of his chest and clutching at them. He would be used, he was being used, but he was no longer expendable. There were only two of them left now. In a way it gave him a sense of security, but in another it brought back memories he would have preferred to leave behind.

~#~

The dormitory had no windows, so without the light on, it was always pitch black inside. They were outfitted like a military barracks. There was no need to give creations added comforts, or at least, that was the official edict.

He had no idea what time he awoke, or what it was that woke him, but it sent a shiver of anticipation up his spine. Something was coming, and if his premonition was anything to go on, Maellin knew that it wasn't something good.

Sensitive ears picked up distant footfalls. His brain altered the perception as new information filtered through it. They were a lot closer than it first appeared; the footsteps were disguised. He tilted his head, running the sounds in the room through calculations, recognising stages of sleep and the likelihood of the impending visit. Not once did he consider waking his fellow roommates and thereby allowing them to prepare. It wasn't in his training; it wasn't in his profile.

His decision made, Maellin slithered down from his bed and rolled under it seconds before the door burst open. Footsteps thundered into the room. Despite the reflexes ingrained into every newly awakened occupant, the odds were not good. Pacing himself, Mae reached out, yanked one of the guards off his feet, silencing him with a snap of his neck.

Mae's brain worked furiously, scenarios and possibilities flashing before his eyes. He chose the most adequate of the lot. Escape. There was something going on that he didn't understand, something he wasn't meant to be a party too. But self-preservation is instinctive in every living being, and so it prevailed in Maellin as well.

He was fast, silent and deadly. Precision dictated his movements as he cut through the guards' ranks. A body dropped to one side as he broke a neck and flung it away casually, laying claim to a hunting knife from the body. Knife in hand, he proceeded to decimate the troops sent to mete out a like punishment to him.

Two thoughts drove him. In the forefront of his mind was the need to get to his sister. His twin; the other half of him… of their prototype. The second thought was why…and he was determined to find out.

Several throats slit with little effort expended, and he picked up another knife from his fourth victim along the way. Three more went down under his hands, before he left the room. The dying grunts of his roommates fell on deaf ears. He was oblivious. Blood pooled over the floor, creating a slick welcome for anyone chancing past. He didn't give it a second thought.

She was standing in front of one of the windows in the hall. Unlike their barracks it was possible to see the outside world from there. Her pale blue night attire was flecked with blood and flesh, but it didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. She knew he was there. He didn't need to announce his presence. But he did need her status.

"Report."

"Fully functional…" her brows knitted together. "…but confused."

And there it was, the flaw in their programme. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not when they needed to get away from the guards who would no doubted be finished with the other barracks soon.

As he took her arm and led her down the corridor, it didn't once occur to Mae that he should check for survivors of his own kind. It was inconsequential…unnecessary. He led his sister down the hall, his brain supplying him with the maps he required, photographic memory clicking into place.

All he could think of was safety. He wasn't thinking of retribution, or of the why right then. He just wanted to get out alive. The next door wouldn't open and Mae frowned, ignoring the insistent tug that his sister gave his shirt. Then he heard the door behind him close, and turned to face his new opponent.

Confusion overwhelmed him. One of the doctors stood in front of the door they had just come through. His slick black hair gleamed in the emergency light. Maellin frowned. The doctor was not an opponent? He shook his head to try and clear it, but it wouldn't cooperate.

"Maellin." The man's voice was as slick as his hair and Maellin thought it funny that that was the only thought running through his head right then. It seemed so out of place.

"Dr. Larson?" Maellin felt his sister tense up, before he sensed her mind cloud. The warning came too late. He felt a sharp prick enter his upper body, before his mind fogged and he knew no more.

~#~

Maellin scowled. "Damn it. I need to get more sleep." He stood up and stretched, trying to cast away the tension gripping him. It was never good to be reminded how much he was not human. All he could ever do was pretend.

#*#

Duo sighed and threw his keys onto the side table as he ushered Quatre into the house. "I hope you realise you've just put me in grave danger."

Taking off his jacket, Quatre frowned. "In danger?"

Duo looked at his friend seriously, taking the jacket from him and throwing it over a chair in the living room. "Yes. Trowa and Wufei are going to have my hide if you start spending too much time with me."

Quatre laughed, a little of his tension easing. "Ahh. Well. I think they'll survive. Besides if they don't understand, then I've misjudged them."

Violet eyes narrowed. Duo didn't like the bitter tone he heard in the blond's voice. "Hey. Lighten up. They understand you, probably know you better than you know yourself." He looked at his friend closer, not liking what he saw. "Cat. Stop obsessing. Use that damn fine brain of yours, and do what you do best."

Quatre looked like he wanted to argue. He started to say something a few times, but closed his mouth. The frustration was palpable when he finally spoke. "Easier said than done, Duo. I have this…this overwhelming urge to punch something."

Duo laughed, he couldn't help it. Quatre's look of indignation at the sound didn't help and neither did his words.

"Oh, do share, Duo," Quatre snapped. "I'd love to know just what about my distress is so entertaining for you!"

"You…you're so fiery when you get worked up. Just makes me glad I'm on your side."

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Fiery?"

"Feisty suit your tastes better?" Duo teased.

And Quatre laughed. "Okay. You win then. I'll try and use my head, though it's pounding at the moment. I just…thought I knew the dirt on the corporation… I thought I knew what I deal with every day. Do you understand, Duo?" He let himself lean against the couch. The question was purely rhetorical. All traces of laughter expunged. "Do you seriously know what this means? It means everything I've been trying to do and accomplish, everything I have fought against the boards to achieve, is founded on something that I never really knew. Everything I've accomplished will be overshadowed by this, if it ever comes to light that my company began the research into this drug. I won't be able to fight back against publicity like that. The work I can do now, the good I can help accomplish… it will all mean nothing." Quatre stopped, his expression strained, and sat down. "Do you see now?"

Duo sighed. "Yeah. I see. You've done so much, and helped bring it so far. I can understand that you don't want it torn down around you. And if what Une says is true? Do we really know that this project has stopped?"

"Well, officially it was cleared from Oz's support network. But you're right. That doesn't mean that those involved didn't keep the project alive. So…" Quatre shook his head. "There is something I'm missing, and I can't think what it is, for the life of me."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, Duo. I…this has been somewhat of an overload for me. All the repercussions of possible future outcomes are running through my head. I'm already reacting with damage control solutions." The blond cracked a weak smile, his eyes flitting around the room with nervous tension.

Duo hated to do it, but he knew no one else would. "Though I hate to play devil's advocate, Cat…are you sure that the funding is over?"

Quatre's face blanched. "What?"

"The funding." Duo took a deep breath. "Are you sure that Winner Enterprises is no longer funding this project?"

#*#

James stood in front of the building, torn between running and between the need; the need for more of the things he had come to despise. He'd tried to not want the sweets, but no matter how hard he tried he still had to have them. It was like his body had a mind of its own. Shaking hands gripped his backpack strap on his shoulder. Will power battled with need. Need won.

With a sigh of defeat, James knocked on the door.

#*#

The office was dark, but Une refused to turn on a light. It suited her. She felt melancholy, and somehow out of her depth. She'd always fought for what she believed in. With every knock-back, she got up and fought harder. When her beliefs and perceptions were torn from her, she re-evaluated and battled on. Nothing got her down; nothing destroyed her ability to rise to a challenge. It wasn't because she was arrogant, nor was it because she was stubborn.

It was simply because she refused to give up.

That didn't mean that she couldn't wallow in a bit of self-pity once in a while. Though it was something she rarely indulged in, Une felt she'd earned it. Her decisions, at the time she made them, seemed concise and justifiable. In the last while her intuition had been off. She wasn't sure how to deal with that. It wasn't something she'd encountered before, and it was frustrating her. Her thoughts were interrupted before she could succumb deeper.

"Stop looking like the world is about to fall out from under your feet, Une. It didn't go nearly as bad as all that." Sally sat herself on the desk in front of Une, not letting the other woman look anywhere else but at her. "You judge yourself too harshly."

Une's eyes glanced up from their focal point on the floor. "Too harshly? Or is it that people don't judge me harshly enough?" She didn't relent at Sally's obvious shock, but barrelled ahead. "Is it callous of me to try and make up for the actions of my past? To redeem myself? Or is it callous of them to have forgotten what I've done?"

There was no answer to any of her questions. The gods knew she'd asked them often enough.

#*#

Maellin looked up at the sound of the door clicking home, and glanced at his watch. He watched the boy creep past the study and barely suppressed a sigh. The pain the youth was in was obvious from his posture. Any pride the boy possessed was slowly being crushed. There were instincts inside Mae, screaming that he take the boy to the hospital, screaming that he should do something. He frowned, not liking the thoughts running through his mind. But moral conscience or not, he couldn't risk being anything other than that for which he had been delegated.

At least… not yet.

~~**~~

Well there we have it. The chapter that hated me. But I finally got it out! Woot.

Hope you liked it.

~Arith