Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Aftermath ❯ Chapter 1
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Spider_Queen 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / / Drama / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.23.2002 | Updated On: 09.23.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 397 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / / Drama / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.23.2002 | Updated On: 09.23.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 397 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Note: I'm writing this because several people have written me asking for a sequal to "Yes Master, My Master." Well, here it is. This will have torture (mostly in flashbacks); at least mentioned rape; and m/m relationships. Lets see how it goes, ne?
The Aftermath
Quatre could feel eyes on his body before he'd even truly awakened, and it took quite an effort to keep from squirming away. Slowly, he turned over so he lay with his back on the plain white sheets, his clear eyes opening slowly giving him time to take in his lover, who sat stoicly beside him, watching him carefully. "You were staring again," Quatre accused the tall, brown haired boy in a soft voice.
Green eyes lowered briefly, focusing on the white scars that criss-crossed Quatre's skin. Built up rage tensed the long limbs of Quatre's love-but he said nothing; asked nothing...he hadn't since Quatre had made it clear how unwelcome the subject was. "I was," Trowa admitted freely, raising his eyes once again to meet Quatre's aquamarine ones. "I have to watch you-to make sure your not a dream...that your really back here."
A smile tugged at Quatre's lips and he leaned forward to engulf Trowa's slim frame in a gentle hug. "No dream," Quatre murmured into Trowa's bare chest, delighting when a large hand gently began stroking his blonde hair. "I'm really here."
The sun had come up and was shining on the couple through the plain white curtains before the two broke apart or said another word. It was Trowa who finally moved, releasing his little one and streching his arms over his head, the brown haired man looked out the window. "It's been two weeks." he said, his voice low and husky. "You promised to go back today...we've no right to keep the others in the dark about your being...alive."
Quatre sighed, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and planting his feet firmly in the pale green carpet. "Yes, I promised." he said as he stood. He wasn't ready to return to regular life; to move on...but he especially wasn't ready for the inavoidable fuss that would be made over his sudden return.
Although sensing the smaller man's thoughts, Trowa reached out and took Quatre by the hand. "I know it won't be easy, little one," he said gravely. "But you can't hide forever."
Quatre nodded, pale hair dropping over his face, creating shadows that made him look years older. "I know-and I promised that I would...but could we start with just the other pilots?" his voice wavered slightly on the last phraze, and his eyes were lowered like that of a dog expecting refusal.
A little puzzled at the Arabian's behavior, Trowa nodded quickly. "Of course." He stood, the small smile that he reserved for his Quatre playing across his lips. "Lets get dressed shall we?"
~*~
Quatre's arms were closed tightly around his own body, as though he were cold, as he stared at the small cabin that had housed him and Trowa for the past two weeks-ever since Trowa had found him. Though small and secluded, the cabin was comfortable and felt safe...Quatre felt as though he were leaving the one safe haven on earth or abondoning a friend in time of need. He turned his head away from the building, closing his eyes. His cheek rubbed against the thin silk of Trowa's shirt, and he could feel the sculpted mucsels underneath the fine layer of clothing. His arms tightened around Trowa's wiast.
"Read to go?" a voice floated back to his ears, and Quatre nodded silently. He could hear the motorcycle start up, and flet it beneath him, but he ignored it. Why was he so unhappy...so scared to leave the little building? After all, the most secure part of the little home was coming with him...He tightened his arms around Trowa's waist once again, as though to reassure himself that the tall clown was still there.
Air ruffled through Quatre's hair and roared in his ears, drowning out all concious thought, leaving the young man's mind vunerable to the thing's he'd rather forget...
~*~
Quatre's hair shifted, tickling the back of the blond's neck, making him shiver involentarily. His hair stilled as the tall man that had been standing close behind him walked slowly so that he was in front of the small Arabian. Gentle fingers tilted the blond's head up, forcing Quatre to raise his eyes and meet the deep black ones that could read his soul.
"Are you scared; in pain or just cold?" the man before him asked, the voice louder than usual, the words harsher and without the elegance that Quatre had grown used to.
Quatre's aquamarine eyes lowered to the grimy stone floor once again. The tension in the air was tangible-the tall man was awaiting a reply. "All of those." Quatre forced to truth past his lips, dispite the protests of his mind and soul.
There was little warning before Quatre's body rocked with the force of a strong hand connecting squarely with his head. He struggled not to fall; not to loose his balance and not to raise his eyes. "You forgot to say something," the words were hissed directly into Quatre's ear, raising goosbumps on the blond's fair skin.
"I'm sorry...master," Quatre choked out, holding back the tears that the singular word brought to his eyes. "I did not mean to."
"I know," came the reply. "now answer my question-correctly this time."
Quatre swallowed and squeezed his blue eyes shut. "I am cold; in pain and scared, master." he managed, his voice barely a whisper.
"And what should I do about this?" Footsteps rang in Quatre's ears as he wobbled on his feet. How long had he been standing? He was so tired, so very exhausted...
"Hent!" The loud voice made both Quatre and the man he'd called "master" jump. Two pairs of eyes turned towards the tapestry covered doorway, widening as the two men saw the dark silluette that intuded the space.
"Master!" the man before Quatre gasped, all compossier disapating as the shadow strode purposfully into the room. Even in the dim light Quatre could make out the expression of anger the other man wore, and somewhere deep in his mind his fear grew into true terror. Never had he seen such an expression of rage on the pale face of Gabriel-and the blond knew then and there that he'd never see anything more terrifying in his life. He wanted to shrink away, but his fatigued body wouldn't obey his muddled commands-besides, fighting would only prolong the torture, that much he'd learned.
Gabriel raised a hand, and Quatre could see the dark, shining whip that the other man held. He closed his eyes, flinching instinctivly as the whip began it's short downward journey. There was a crack, and it took a moment for Quatre's mind to pick up on the fact that he'd felt nothing. One aquamarine eyes opened and Quatre peered cautiously at the fine clad man with the whip.
Gabriel stood over his minion, anger still written on his face, though it had faded away somewhat. The whip flashed over Hent's skin once again, tearing the shirt on his back and drawing blood.
Then the whip fell, and Gabriel turned, ignoring his helper, who remained curled on the floor, whimpering like a wounded dog. Dark eyes saught Quatre's.
"Come now, little prince," strong hands took Quatre gently, though the gentle touch was still set the Winner's nerves afire, especially near his broken and bandaged arm. "Let us mend that cold and pain," Gabriel whispered, leading the boy from the stone room...
~*~
"Quatre?" Quatre pried his eyes open, squinting against the bright and unexpected daylight. His body was stiff and his arms cramped-still wrapped in a death hold around Trowa's waist, though the motorcycle's engin had been turned off.
The blond blinked and straightened himself with some effort. "Are you okay?" Trowa inquired, twisting on the seat to face his love with concern etched in his features.
Quatre nodded, trying to shake the feeling of disorientation away. "Yes, I am," he assured the brown haired man as he fumbled with dismounting the bike. His knees felt a little shaky and his ankles were a bit weak, but he wanted to stand. "I must have just fallen asleep."
A frown took Trowa's lips. "Asleep? Your lucky that you were holding as tight as you were to me..." Quatre nodded, wishing that the subject would drop. Picking up on Quatre's unspoken demand, Trowa shook his head and turned his eyes towards the modest home they'd parked in front of. "Anyhow, we're here...ready to get your life back?"
Note: the flashback is not something that I wrote about in "Yes Master, My Master" obviously-but then, Quatre was stuck with Gabriel for a year-I certainly didn't write THAT much on that story. ^^ what do you think so far?
Note: I'm writing this because several people have written me asking for a sequal to "Yes Master, My Master." Well, here it is. This will have torture (mostly in flashbacks); at least mentioned rape; and m/m relationships. Lets see how it goes, ne?
The Aftermath
Quatre could feel eyes on his body before he'd even truly awakened, and it took quite an effort to keep from squirming away. Slowly, he turned over so he lay with his back on the plain white sheets, his clear eyes opening slowly giving him time to take in his lover, who sat stoicly beside him, watching him carefully. "You were staring again," Quatre accused the tall, brown haired boy in a soft voice.
Green eyes lowered briefly, focusing on the white scars that criss-crossed Quatre's skin. Built up rage tensed the long limbs of Quatre's love-but he said nothing; asked nothing...he hadn't since Quatre had made it clear how unwelcome the subject was. "I was," Trowa admitted freely, raising his eyes once again to meet Quatre's aquamarine ones. "I have to watch you-to make sure your not a dream...that your really back here."
A smile tugged at Quatre's lips and he leaned forward to engulf Trowa's slim frame in a gentle hug. "No dream," Quatre murmured into Trowa's bare chest, delighting when a large hand gently began stroking his blonde hair. "I'm really here."
The sun had come up and was shining on the couple through the plain white curtains before the two broke apart or said another word. It was Trowa who finally moved, releasing his little one and streching his arms over his head, the brown haired man looked out the window. "It's been two weeks." he said, his voice low and husky. "You promised to go back today...we've no right to keep the others in the dark about your being...alive."
Quatre sighed, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and planting his feet firmly in the pale green carpet. "Yes, I promised." he said as he stood. He wasn't ready to return to regular life; to move on...but he especially wasn't ready for the inavoidable fuss that would be made over his sudden return.
Although sensing the smaller man's thoughts, Trowa reached out and took Quatre by the hand. "I know it won't be easy, little one," he said gravely. "But you can't hide forever."
Quatre nodded, pale hair dropping over his face, creating shadows that made him look years older. "I know-and I promised that I would...but could we start with just the other pilots?" his voice wavered slightly on the last phraze, and his eyes were lowered like that of a dog expecting refusal.
A little puzzled at the Arabian's behavior, Trowa nodded quickly. "Of course." He stood, the small smile that he reserved for his Quatre playing across his lips. "Lets get dressed shall we?"
~*~
Quatre's arms were closed tightly around his own body, as though he were cold, as he stared at the small cabin that had housed him and Trowa for the past two weeks-ever since Trowa had found him. Though small and secluded, the cabin was comfortable and felt safe...Quatre felt as though he were leaving the one safe haven on earth or abondoning a friend in time of need. He turned his head away from the building, closing his eyes. His cheek rubbed against the thin silk of Trowa's shirt, and he could feel the sculpted mucsels underneath the fine layer of clothing. His arms tightened around Trowa's wiast.
"Read to go?" a voice floated back to his ears, and Quatre nodded silently. He could hear the motorcycle start up, and flet it beneath him, but he ignored it. Why was he so unhappy...so scared to leave the little building? After all, the most secure part of the little home was coming with him...He tightened his arms around Trowa's waist once again, as though to reassure himself that the tall clown was still there.
Air ruffled through Quatre's hair and roared in his ears, drowning out all concious thought, leaving the young man's mind vunerable to the thing's he'd rather forget...
~*~
Quatre's hair shifted, tickling the back of the blond's neck, making him shiver involentarily. His hair stilled as the tall man that had been standing close behind him walked slowly so that he was in front of the small Arabian. Gentle fingers tilted the blond's head up, forcing Quatre to raise his eyes and meet the deep black ones that could read his soul.
"Are you scared; in pain or just cold?" the man before him asked, the voice louder than usual, the words harsher and without the elegance that Quatre had grown used to.
Quatre's aquamarine eyes lowered to the grimy stone floor once again. The tension in the air was tangible-the tall man was awaiting a reply. "All of those." Quatre forced to truth past his lips, dispite the protests of his mind and soul.
There was little warning before Quatre's body rocked with the force of a strong hand connecting squarely with his head. He struggled not to fall; not to loose his balance and not to raise his eyes. "You forgot to say something," the words were hissed directly into Quatre's ear, raising goosbumps on the blond's fair skin.
"I'm sorry...master," Quatre choked out, holding back the tears that the singular word brought to his eyes. "I did not mean to."
"I know," came the reply. "now answer my question-correctly this time."
Quatre swallowed and squeezed his blue eyes shut. "I am cold; in pain and scared, master." he managed, his voice barely a whisper.
"And what should I do about this?" Footsteps rang in Quatre's ears as he wobbled on his feet. How long had he been standing? He was so tired, so very exhausted...
"Hent!" The loud voice made both Quatre and the man he'd called "master" jump. Two pairs of eyes turned towards the tapestry covered doorway, widening as the two men saw the dark silluette that intuded the space.
"Master!" the man before Quatre gasped, all compossier disapating as the shadow strode purposfully into the room. Even in the dim light Quatre could make out the expression of anger the other man wore, and somewhere deep in his mind his fear grew into true terror. Never had he seen such an expression of rage on the pale face of Gabriel-and the blond knew then and there that he'd never see anything more terrifying in his life. He wanted to shrink away, but his fatigued body wouldn't obey his muddled commands-besides, fighting would only prolong the torture, that much he'd learned.
Gabriel raised a hand, and Quatre could see the dark, shining whip that the other man held. He closed his eyes, flinching instinctivly as the whip began it's short downward journey. There was a crack, and it took a moment for Quatre's mind to pick up on the fact that he'd felt nothing. One aquamarine eyes opened and Quatre peered cautiously at the fine clad man with the whip.
Gabriel stood over his minion, anger still written on his face, though it had faded away somewhat. The whip flashed over Hent's skin once again, tearing the shirt on his back and drawing blood.
Then the whip fell, and Gabriel turned, ignoring his helper, who remained curled on the floor, whimpering like a wounded dog. Dark eyes saught Quatre's.
"Come now, little prince," strong hands took Quatre gently, though the gentle touch was still set the Winner's nerves afire, especially near his broken and bandaged arm. "Let us mend that cold and pain," Gabriel whispered, leading the boy from the stone room...
~*~
"Quatre?" Quatre pried his eyes open, squinting against the bright and unexpected daylight. His body was stiff and his arms cramped-still wrapped in a death hold around Trowa's waist, though the motorcycle's engin had been turned off.
The blond blinked and straightened himself with some effort. "Are you okay?" Trowa inquired, twisting on the seat to face his love with concern etched in his features.
Quatre nodded, trying to shake the feeling of disorientation away. "Yes, I am," he assured the brown haired man as he fumbled with dismounting the bike. His knees felt a little shaky and his ankles were a bit weak, but he wanted to stand. "I must have just fallen asleep."
A frown took Trowa's lips. "Asleep? Your lucky that you were holding as tight as you were to me..." Quatre nodded, wishing that the subject would drop. Picking up on Quatre's unspoken demand, Trowa shook his head and turned his eyes towards the modest home they'd parked in front of. "Anyhow, we're here...ready to get your life back?"
Note: the flashback is not something that I wrote about in "Yes Master, My Master" obviously-but then, Quatre was stuck with Gabriel for a year-I certainly didn't write THAT much on that story. ^^ what do you think so far?