Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Aftermath ❯ Chapter 5
[ 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 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.0K | Visits: 316 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / / Drama / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.23.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.0K | Visits: 316 | Status: Completed
note: in this part, I'm employing ((...)) for the flashback...:> ^^
The questions had at last stopped. They didn't stop all at once, rather they tapered slowly off leaving silence in their wake once it became obvious to the other pilot's the Quatre wasn't ready to talk. Part of Quatre was relieved at the void the inquiry had left...but another part of him was squirmy uncomfortably. No one knew just what to say-the pilot's couldn't ask Quatre about what had happened to the blond over hte last year, even though those thoughts dominated their minds. Trowa, Duo and perhaps Wufei understood that Quatre needed time to readjust, to get over what was obviously a traumatic experience...and between the three of them, they'd managed to subdue Heero's queries. However, that left the conversation up to Quatre-Quatre who had spent much of the last year in obediant silence, speaking only when his Master made it clear that he was allowed.
(("I hate you!" Quatre screamed, tears running down his cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake. "Why do you have to kill them!? Why do you have to make ME kill them?!!" Another boy had died at his hands, another soul had departed the earth before it's oportunity for true life had been presented. Another splash of blood on Quatre's hands and consious. "Why?" he sobbed, letting everything out at long last. The pain; the fear; the screams...everything had been building up in him, begging to be released, to escape...to explode in dear Gabriel's face.
Quatre was on his knees, the blood staining his dark clothing slowly seeping into the soft, fine carpet beneath him. He didn't remember coming into the bedroom, leaving the dark dungeon and it's dead occupant...he didn't remember falling to his knees, arms wrapped tightly about himself. Everything was such a blur...the sleepless nights; the nightmares; the guilt and humiliation did that to the Arabian. He was quickly losing everything, and the more he grabbed for it, the quicker it slipped away. He was becoming what the other's wanted...what Gabriel knew he'd become.
Soft footsteps across the carpet alerted the Arabian of his master's approach, but the young man couldn't lift his head or stop the tears that now flowed heavily yet silently.
Strong hands grasped Quatre by the shoulders, tight enough to give the pilot a shock of pain that jolted him slightly from the dark world of his tears and into a hazy reality. The hands were lifting, and Quatre was forced to stand on thready feet. One hand deserted his shoulder, leaving a warm imprint to slwoly fade away as it grabbed his chin. Pale face was forced up; sea green eyes were forced to meet narrowed dark ones. A gentle finger, soft with very fine callouses caressed the tears away, urging them to stop coming all together.
Gabriel gave his captive the hint of a smile as the tears stilled and Quatre's breathing steadied. "From now on, little one," Gabriel's voice was soft, but had the edge of disapointed command to it...and edge that Quatre had early learned to recognize as a bad thing. "You will not speak unless I make it perfectly clear that you may. And you will not cry in my presence." Smile fell and hands dropped from Quatre's fragile body, leaving the boy to ponder the new twist to his tortured existance.))
Sitting at the kitchen table, old friends seated around him, focused on him, Quatre needed to remind himself that here, he could speak. He didn't need permission...he could say what he wanted, when he wanted. He opened his mouth, and forced words out.
The words were meaningless-a question that he already knew the answer to combined with a confirmation of what the other's had already guessed or knew. "I've been a little out of things," the blond heard his soft voice say, slicing smoothly through the awkwards silence. "...how did the war end?"
The pilots shifted, glancing breifly at one another, as though tossing the doubious privilage of storytelling amungst themselves. Only Trowa was absent from the silent conversation, leaning back in his wooden chair, vibrant eyes focused on his blond lover. Torwa had told the story to Quatre shortly after they were reunited...but as often was the case, the circus clown was not about to say anything. Quatre was greatful the Trowa was not Duo-Duo would have announced loudly "Why are you asking? Weren't you paying attention when I told you it?!" Trowa understood Quatre-understood that the blond needed conversation, how idle or repeditive.
Quatre gave the brown haired pilot a small smile, forcing his eyes back to his other friends. He wasn't surprised in the least that Duo opted to speak.
Duo spoke fast, his voice jumping from a sorrowfilled tone to an excited one as he recounted the story that Quatre had already heard and recited numerous times over in his mind. Though Duo's version was rather more humerous than Trowa's-Duo occasionally would make the Gundam's speak or act out a scene...every so often the narration would be interupted by an indignant squack from another pilot-Quatre wasn't really paying attention. He was letting the sounds wash over him, fill the quiet void that Gabriel insisted remain while Quatre was his captive. Such animated; jovial and amusing antics were a treat for the blond and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Never again would teh Arabian take speach or laughter for granted.
Shining eyes closed and a smile spread over Quatre's lips. Gabriel was dead, but in Quatre's soul he still reigned...terror and pain and love mixed into a presence that comforted but more often eat away at Quatre...Duo's voice, loud and clear...Trowa's quiet chuckle or Heero's muttered "Omae o korosu" were all weapons pushing the spirit of the dead master further and further into the recesses of who Quatre was. Who Quatre really was-not who Gabriel wanted him to be. Perhaps he hadn't lost as much as he thought...
The questions had at last stopped. They didn't stop all at once, rather they tapered slowly off leaving silence in their wake once it became obvious to the other pilot's the Quatre wasn't ready to talk. Part of Quatre was relieved at the void the inquiry had left...but another part of him was squirmy uncomfortably. No one knew just what to say-the pilot's couldn't ask Quatre about what had happened to the blond over hte last year, even though those thoughts dominated their minds. Trowa, Duo and perhaps Wufei understood that Quatre needed time to readjust, to get over what was obviously a traumatic experience...and between the three of them, they'd managed to subdue Heero's queries. However, that left the conversation up to Quatre-Quatre who had spent much of the last year in obediant silence, speaking only when his Master made it clear that he was allowed.
(("I hate you!" Quatre screamed, tears running down his cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake. "Why do you have to kill them!? Why do you have to make ME kill them?!!" Another boy had died at his hands, another soul had departed the earth before it's oportunity for true life had been presented. Another splash of blood on Quatre's hands and consious. "Why?" he sobbed, letting everything out at long last. The pain; the fear; the screams...everything had been building up in him, begging to be released, to escape...to explode in dear Gabriel's face.
Quatre was on his knees, the blood staining his dark clothing slowly seeping into the soft, fine carpet beneath him. He didn't remember coming into the bedroom, leaving the dark dungeon and it's dead occupant...he didn't remember falling to his knees, arms wrapped tightly about himself. Everything was such a blur...the sleepless nights; the nightmares; the guilt and humiliation did that to the Arabian. He was quickly losing everything, and the more he grabbed for it, the quicker it slipped away. He was becoming what the other's wanted...what Gabriel knew he'd become.
Soft footsteps across the carpet alerted the Arabian of his master's approach, but the young man couldn't lift his head or stop the tears that now flowed heavily yet silently.
Strong hands grasped Quatre by the shoulders, tight enough to give the pilot a shock of pain that jolted him slightly from the dark world of his tears and into a hazy reality. The hands were lifting, and Quatre was forced to stand on thready feet. One hand deserted his shoulder, leaving a warm imprint to slwoly fade away as it grabbed his chin. Pale face was forced up; sea green eyes were forced to meet narrowed dark ones. A gentle finger, soft with very fine callouses caressed the tears away, urging them to stop coming all together.
Gabriel gave his captive the hint of a smile as the tears stilled and Quatre's breathing steadied. "From now on, little one," Gabriel's voice was soft, but had the edge of disapointed command to it...and edge that Quatre had early learned to recognize as a bad thing. "You will not speak unless I make it perfectly clear that you may. And you will not cry in my presence." Smile fell and hands dropped from Quatre's fragile body, leaving the boy to ponder the new twist to his tortured existance.))
Sitting at the kitchen table, old friends seated around him, focused on him, Quatre needed to remind himself that here, he could speak. He didn't need permission...he could say what he wanted, when he wanted. He opened his mouth, and forced words out.
The words were meaningless-a question that he already knew the answer to combined with a confirmation of what the other's had already guessed or knew. "I've been a little out of things," the blond heard his soft voice say, slicing smoothly through the awkwards silence. "...how did the war end?"
The pilots shifted, glancing breifly at one another, as though tossing the doubious privilage of storytelling amungst themselves. Only Trowa was absent from the silent conversation, leaning back in his wooden chair, vibrant eyes focused on his blond lover. Torwa had told the story to Quatre shortly after they were reunited...but as often was the case, the circus clown was not about to say anything. Quatre was greatful the Trowa was not Duo-Duo would have announced loudly "Why are you asking? Weren't you paying attention when I told you it?!" Trowa understood Quatre-understood that the blond needed conversation, how idle or repeditive.
Quatre gave the brown haired pilot a small smile, forcing his eyes back to his other friends. He wasn't surprised in the least that Duo opted to speak.
Duo spoke fast, his voice jumping from a sorrowfilled tone to an excited one as he recounted the story that Quatre had already heard and recited numerous times over in his mind. Though Duo's version was rather more humerous than Trowa's-Duo occasionally would make the Gundam's speak or act out a scene...every so often the narration would be interupted by an indignant squack from another pilot-Quatre wasn't really paying attention. He was letting the sounds wash over him, fill the quiet void that Gabriel insisted remain while Quatre was his captive. Such animated; jovial and amusing antics were a treat for the blond and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Never again would teh Arabian take speach or laughter for granted.
Shining eyes closed and a smile spread over Quatre's lips. Gabriel was dead, but in Quatre's soul he still reigned...terror and pain and love mixed into a presence that comforted but more often eat away at Quatre...Duo's voice, loud and clear...Trowa's quiet chuckle or Heero's muttered "Omae o korosu" were all weapons pushing the spirit of the dead master further and further into the recesses of who Quatre was. Who Quatre really was-not who Gabriel wanted him to be. Perhaps he hadn't lost as much as he thought...