Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Warmth ❯ Warmth ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

After the strange moments he spent in space, floating around like a lonesome bottle in the sea he knew he had changed. What he had seen, what he had felt were likely to stay with him for a long, long time. Well, at least until memory faded the edges of his experience and replaced all of the sensations with new, even more powerful ones.

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It was never meant to happen at all. He had only meant to fly to L2 to visit his friend to discuss something that distressed them both and two of their other friends as well. An unfortunate turn of events, a hole in their lives that made them grieve its existence. Something that they could not make better by talking about it.

He never saw it coming even though he kept his vigilance as any experienced pilot would. He was piloting the ship, keeping his eye on all of the monitors and seeing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, the landscape around him a vast field of black that is space. One minute he was switching the controls to autopilot and the next he was hit by something, his head was spinning faster and faster down a vortex of darkness and stars and so was the vessel. His harness broke; he flew across the cabin and hit the wall in one, thunderous thump. After that came the darkness of oblivion but after that, no one knows how much later, the darkness begun to melt into shades of gray and finally through the gray crept the colors.

It was hard to open his eyes. He lifted his head carefully, blinking slowly. At least he didn't feel nauseous and there was no blood anywhere in sight. That, of course, did not mean that there would not be any of it anywhere. He could have injuries that were invisible to him through the space suit.

He crawled up from the floor rubbing his aching forehead. His blond hair hung limply in his eyes momentarily obscuring his vision. For a moment he thought that the spinning colors in the corners of his eyes were because of the impact that had thrown him to the wall but as he slowly lift his head, his squinting eyes saw the whole cabin bathed in a warm glow.

Soft golden tendrils of light were streaming under the door while milky white splashes of softly glowing liquid hit the windows. Each time a wave of white withdrew, beautiful colors swirled slowly, making him think of late afternoon and approaching twilight waltzing together behind the windows.

He drew a shaky breath and realized that the cabin was full of air that was sweet and easy to breathe. His blinking eyes were adjusting to the increase of light as felt inside him a strange pull toward the cabin's door.

In slow, steady steps he reached the white of the sliding door that was beginning to change. Instead of synthetic materials there was wood, dark and fine. The surface felt silky smooth under his fingertips as he let them run on it. Then, as if opened by some invisible mechanism, the door swung open.

“Oh!” said Quatre softly, feeling hot tears sting his eyes. When had he seen something so lovely before? He was tired of darkness, tired of the cold, tired of loneliness and tired of pain.

He could feel soft warmth on his face and the same rays of warmth and light were relaxing his aching shoulders. The white liquid was warm and lighter than water, streaming in to the cabin, splashing playfully around his ankles, looking like milk.

He was crying now, sobbing harshly, drawing in deep gulps of air. He drew up his hand to rub at his eyes with his sleeve. He was crying because he had not thought he would ever get to feel this warm and safe. He was crying because he had not though he could ever find home again. He was crying tears of relief much like a small child would after being lost and then returned to his mother.

Absorbing the warmth he wasn't sure where he had come from, anymore. His thoughts were hazy and fuzzy. His shirt was wet. Vaguely he realized he was wearing his old pajamas, the ones he used to wear when he was very young.

How lovely, he wasn't hurting anymore. Gradually he stopped crying, and begun to wade forward. The air was misty but the golden light was shining through it and the sky ahead was a mixture of millions of colors. In the distance he could see rainbow colored trees, stretching their branches high as if reaching toward the warmth and trying to grab a hold of it.

A beautiful silence floated around carried by the mist. It was the silence of deep and peaceful sleep and suddenly he broke it with his laughter. Laughing and laughing he rushed forward, threw himself on the milky substance and rolled in it. His splashing made delicate, lace like foam and small sea green bubbles form on the surface of the liquid. The bubbles inflated until they were floating around him, then gently bursting into tiny golden droplets. He was laughing and playing like a child until he remembered.

He sat in the liquid, legs outstretched before him. As he was staring at his hands that were folded in his lap he suddenly saw himself from above. A small, forlorn boy sitting in all that white, black beginning to creep toward him from the edges. It was not the black of space, but rather the heavy satiny blackness of the bedroom when the curtains are pulled and it's time to sleep.

Further and further away he flew, leaving himself there, a tiny spot, a sad little spot in the sweet sea of white.

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There were sounds of wheels spinning and doors slamming around him. He heard people talking in clipped tones, and he couldn't be sure but he thought he heard his name. Someone was crying. A woman. A woman and a man. Then he lost them and again he could see himself, feel himself sitting in the warm milky liquid, with the sweet air and mist that carried all the hues of gold around him.

He didn't speak, because there was no need for it. He got up and instantly he was dry again. The trees near him seemed to sigh. The mist embraced him. The shallow sea caressed his ankles.

I'm sorry, he thought. I love you too, but I will come back later. Right now I cannot stay. He raised his head. I will need to find you some other way, but I will love you just as much when I do.

It was midnight when he opened his eyes again. There was a body slumped in the chair right next to his bed. The muscles of his hand felt painful when he reached out to brush his knuckles over the sleeper's thigh.

With a jerk the figure sprung up and gasped. “Quatre!” he could hear the joy in the groggy voice, could feel it in the delighted squeeze of the calloused hands that enveloped his own. He smiled trying to focus his eyes on the glistening violet that reflected the glow of the streetlights coming through the window.

“He's alive, Duo.” He whispered. “He doesn't really know it himself, but he's alive. He's just sleeping, that's all.” His voice was trembling now. “He told me such important things…”

And as Duo's face took on a look of concern mixed with joy Quatre let his head sink into the pillow with a deep sense of contentment. From somewhere deep within his chest he heaved a sigh that puffed out as sweet as the air of love, rising deep from the mists of salvation and care.

~Fin