Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wilderness ❯ reuniting with the tour ( Chapter 21 )

 

Wilderness

By Dentelle_Noir

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, duh. Don't you find this as redundant as I? I hope so.

 

Warning: Eventual yaoi. Man bashing.

 

Chapter 21: Reuniting with the tour

 

Dusk crept up on the six canoeists and brought with it fresh worries. Treize began to float in and out of consciousness. Wufei had been able to stop the ooze of blood from his boyfriend's gun shot wound with the medical supplies they had on the boats, but stuck inside the canoe with Treize and Trowa, there was only so much they could do. Treize had already lost so much blood that he was deathly pale and had hardly enough energy to keep his eyes open. Wufei could only bear to let him close his eyes for a few minutes at a time before he tried to bring him back around. Every time was getting harder and harder.

 

“It's getting dark. We've usually already made camp by now.” Heero said quietly, watching his boyfriend's arm lay limp across his chest with the sling Trowa had fixed on him. They couldn't correct the injuries where they were. Treize would've been able, had he been capable, but Duo's injuries were the least of the team's worries.

 

“Can we canoe through the dark?” Quatre asked innocently, “We have flashlights. And any time we can save could be critical, wouldn't it?”

 

Everyone looked to Heero. It was dangerous to paddle in the dark; rapids were deadly, getting lost was incredibly easy because of the many off-shoots from the river camouflaged by the dark, landmarks were almost impossible to spot, and if one could see them, they never looked the same. Could you canoe in the dark? The Usual answer was: No way in hell. But Quatre was understating the time emphasis. They were only a few hours from a ranger station, and if they could get there they would be able to radio for air ambulance. Their radio had been smashed to bits on the shore and the radios they carried to the cave weren't strong enough to call to the lodge, which was the closest dispatch.

 

Heero considered, and Treize coughed, a spit of red marring the material Wufei held to him mouth. “We paddle on. Everyone keep a good eye out.” Heero ordered immediately.

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Muller woke first and rolled around in pain for a few moments. His jaw was a black-purple that radiated all the way across his cheek and faded to disgusting yellow by his eye. Heero's foot had rocked him so hard he was infinitely glad to be still able to breathe, despite the pain of it. Worried for his brother, Muller crawled over to him and shook his still body. The blood that had flowed from Alex's broken nose had stopped a while ago, leaving a coagulated clump of blood and sand between Alex's face and the ground. Muller shook him frantically, thinking he was dead. He was plotting revenge, not sure who had hurt his brother but betting on the Jap, when Alex's arm swung out and knocked Muller in the leg.

 

“Stop.” Alex ground out, his voice gravelly and dry. He spit out some of the gravel actually in his mouth and shook his head, then the dull ache from his nose flared back to an agony. “The little China Fuck broke my nose!” Alex's voice was muffled and high, his hand pressing on his abused nose. Muller, knowing his brother was too much of a baby to do it himself, moved his hands and gave the broken nose a good crack to relocate it. Alex yelled like a child and just about took his brother's head off, but Alex was in too much pain to aim right through his tears, and missed.

 

The howl was enough to stir Nichol. He gradually swayed into consciousness with the words of his two lackeys. They were commenting on the other's injuries, it seemed. Nichol tried to move, first his fingers and then his toes. Confident he was not paralyzed and noticing he was not trapped under something that could potentially kill him if he moved, he tried moving around. Nothing really hurt at all. He tried to remember what had happened, but all he could remember was getting ready to shoot the funny-haired forest ranger and then nothing. No, he amended, the pain from his head and then nothing. One of the little asses had knocked him from behind.

 

Nichol lifted an arm from the sand, heavy from disuse, and felt the back of his head. There was a huge crust of dried blood down the back of his skull, and the pain flared to life the second he touched it. He would kill whoever did it. He wasn't sure who, but the Jap came to mind. Everyone else had been busy at the time.

 

Nichol hauled himself off the ground, moving towards the river. Alex and Muller noticed him them. Nichol crawled towards the river and dunked his head in, letting the current take out the worst of the blood. A few seconds later he felt a hand helping to break the clumps up and found Muller, face half black and blue, helping. “We'll get them, Boss.” Muller said with confidence. It was inspiring despite its lack of validity.

 

Nichol, with help, sat himself on the sand and took stock. The forest ranger had outfoxed them with the first bat and got back to his group. They lost the second bat. They lost their boats, therefore they lost their way home and their way back to their boss. And they had lost the rangers. The boss was going to be mad.

 

“There is no way short of miraculously cutting them off and killing them all, and the bat, before they reached the lodge that will help now. The `make it look like an accident' rule is only a secondary option now, boys. Shoot if you have the shot. We're going to stop them.” Nichol voiced.

 

“How are we supposed to stop them? Wave a flag that says `please stop here'? They won't get off the river and they'll coast right into the lodge without ever giving us the opportunity!” Alex raged.

 

Nichol's mouth curved up into a wolf's smile that sent shivers down the spine of Alex and Muller. He had a plan.

 

He always had a plan.

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The light was so far below horizon that it served only to throw the shapes of the trees and natural things into grotesque and disfigured shadows. It was far too dark to be without camp, let alone still be on the river. But, two canoes were.

 

Despite the darkness, Quatre dug that paddle in hard and pulled back, savoring the resistance. After a few more strokes it was almost completely black. With no city lights and forest shielding the dim moonlight, the darkness was absolute. The group continued to paddle; just paddle. No one seemed to speak, no one seemed to move, and breath was taken sparingly, just because of the eerie atmosphere. The forest around them was far from silent. It virtually screamed with animals waking from the day's sleep to move about the forest of the night. They continued to paddle, the moon had risen enough to make the river glow like onyx sliding beneath their oars, and each splash brought them nearer. But...

 

They had expected to reach the lodge by then.

 

But it was no where to be seen. And they could all vouch that the lodge's floodlights, two on each of its four sides, stayed lit all night; visible for miles. They had seen no floodlights. And even if the current was slowing them, as they had assumed it must've been, they were still not within visual range.

 

Duo's voice was mouse-quiet, matching Quatre's own weariness in the area, “We should have seen something by now. Pull out the map, `Ro. The river is too narrow.” It seemed as though the trees were reaching closer and closer across the pitch black night towards their canoe. Quatre mentally thanked Duo very much for that observation as well, because he didn't have enough creeps running up and down his spine to begin with.

 

The flashlight that clicked to life behind Quatre was so bright to him that the landscape became vacant. He couldn't see a damn thing because the bright light forced his eyes to receive light, effectively shutting off his night vision. Now he understood why they hadn't turned the flashlight on inside the boat before. They had taped a light onto the very tip of each boat to shine dully on the water just a bit in front the canoes to show any snares or obstacles, but they shone so far away from eyes that Quatre hadn't realized one good beam of light could blind him! The main river was not supposed to have any obstacles, but one could never be too sure, as Trowa had said when taping up the light in front of Quatre. It was a good thing they had those lights, though-- they had dodged four such non-existent stationary obstacles in the last two hours. Quatre thanked Duo, again, for bringing up the possibility of being lost.

 

“I'm telling you `Ro. WE are NOT there.” Duo said, poking the map that was unfolded across his chest, “I don't care what you say and however you factored in your so-called `drag' effect, which is not as strong as this water is going anyway. We are not where the map says we are. The water is too shallow and too narrow to be there,” Duo poked at the same spot on the map, “and if we were there, we should be able to see the Lodge, if not tripped over it, by now. Face it, `Ro. We turned down an off-shoot somewhere.”

 

Heero scowled so hard, even in the black where Quatre could barely see his hand in front of her face, that scowl raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

 

“We didn't turn.” Heero said resolutely. “The main river is almost arrow straight from where we got in. We would've known if we turned. I didn't feel a turn... Did anyone else feel a turn?” Heero quizzed honestly. But Heero was so sure of himself that Quatre was second guessing his own instinct. He had been sure the canoes had drifted west almost an hour ago...

 

“I don't know Heero...” That was Trowa's voice, frighteningly close to Quatre and still disembodied. “But my directional sense is more visual that innate. Ask Quatre, he's never gotten lost.”

 

Quatre's toes curled to keep the panic out of his face. He hated being on the spot, especially with Heero being the one second guessed. Heero wasn't exactly Quatre's greatest fan still, and if Quatre was wrong—he didn't want to think about that. But everyone was looking at him, Heero's flashlight was on his face and he could feel the eyes of Trowa, Wufei, and Treize in the other boat, even if he couldn't see them. They were all waiting for an answer, “Well... Um... I don't exactly know... I'm no expert...”

 

“Treize. Is. Dying.” Wufei spoke, having not said a word since they left the beach, and sounded so deadly cold that it froze Quatre's blood, “he needs help two hours ago. Tell him, Quatre.”

 

“About an hour ago we were drifting west, I thought it was just how the river went and thought nothing of it. We've also been weaving further west since then.” Quatre let out in a woosh, too frightened to look Heero in the eye and hoping Trowa would pity him and pull him back into the boat once Heero tried to drown him.

 

“That would be... this shoot.” Heero said just as casually as before, no murderous intent and not even an ounce of bitterness. Quatre let his eyes open from a tense squint. He twisted his head back to see Heero marking out the length of the shoot and how far they were, his fingers walking the measured distance across the map. Quatre got a good glimpse of the map this time because the light wasn't shining directly on its water-proof plastic covering to make the markings white. The off-shoot Heero was tracing went far into the forest and then eventually curled back into the main river, overshooting the lodge by miles.

 

Heero was too engrossed in his navigation to swear, so Quatre did. “Fuck.”

 

“That's the most of it.” Heero responded dryly, but with a hint of a smile.

 

The night was silent, the canoes both following the lolling current without paddling.

 

“How bad?” Trowa said after a while, this time his voice was behind Quatre, closer to Heero, and if he squinted, he could just make out the outline of Trowa's shoulders craned over towards the map.

 

Heero calmly put his hands down and starred into the darkness where Trowa probably was, “By my calculations, it would be faster to go back the same way we came and take the main river again, about two hours, maybe three lost on paddling.”

 

“Damn.” Echoed through everyone's head.

 

“But if we continue the way we are, we'll overshoot by a half hour paddle at our destination, and we'll have another four hours rough paddling ahead of us, and probably a portage around one set, at least. With two injured we couldn't portage. With Wufei and Quatre as inexperienced and, again, two injured, we couldn't do the rapids either.” Heero explained.

 

“Isn't there some sort of trail, maybe? A short cut back to the river?” Duo asked hopeful.

 

“Solid walking only. We can't carry the canoes, and Treize, and expect to make it to the main river. And certainly not in this light. It is night, walking unprotected in the forest at night is stupid enough; with our hindrances it'd be suicide.

 

Heero didn't even need to give the order, Wufei was turning the other canoe as soon as Heero stopped speaking. Heero turned as well, dipping his paddle in and wrenching it through the water with a new vigor. Wufei was paddling so hard that Quatre was sweating just trying to keep up with the other boat; its tail bobbing in and out of the circle of light cast from the front of Quatre's canoe. Duo handed Quatre an energy bar and, with courtesy of the one stuck not able to help, he sacrificed his headphones --a bendable plastic sort that sat behind Quatre's neck instead of over his head-- to Quatre. The food and the pulsing beat from the one commodity Duo insisted on, spurned Quatre's exhaustion-numbed arms on somehow. Heero and him were actually able to keep the tip of Trowa and Wufei's canoe in their `headlight'... but only just.

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Milly awoke just as the sun's light began to peak over the horizon, not even the sun itself could be seen up, but Milly was. He began his morning like most when with a tour. He plugged the coffee machine into the little generator and poured some river water in it to boil. He dressed and combed his perfect locks. He made it a point to `accidentally' kick Jerry, the idiot jock who had made it a point to bad mouth anyone homosexual since the rangers had left, and then went to calling for a breakfast jeep, watching in satisfaction as the jock turned to see the sun not even out, swore something awful, and tried to hide himself in the massive folds of his sleeping bag. Milly may not have been legally allowed to take the boy down or show the opposite of preferential treatment, but he could still make his life hell in untraceable ways.

 

He sat down with a juice and got ready to do some of the travel-log work, prepared for a good hour and some before even the earliest to wake began to stir. What he didn't expect was the thundering roar of a Jeep tearing through the woods at an unhealthy speed. It was still mostly dark, and Milly knew night driving in the forest, where the roads (if they had them) were less than stellar, was deadly. Even in an emergency, no one should be going that fast, that early, even close to the Lodge as they were. They were only a day's trip away from the lodge, (only one day's trip more until this disaster was off his hands). Their trip was days shorter because of the illness and other circumstances, but they were going to be handsomely compensated anyway. He wanted them gone ASAP!

 

The vacationers began to take notice of the disturbance as well. The light sleepers were propped on their elbows, heads scanning the forest for the source of the noise and the rest of the group was beginning to stir.

 

But the noise became louder and closer as the seconds past.

 

Then a set of headlights broke the tree line, bearing down upon the clearing with vicious speed. The jeep itself, a dented and dirty red thing that bore a disfigured ranger logo on it's doors, broke the tree line, smashing through the proud little oaks with a vengeance and coming to a screaming, sand-kicking, donut-turning halt right in front of Milly and the cluster of sleeping bags. Milly slid the little hand held radio into his front pocket and stood to meet the jeep, hopeful that he could help.

 

But everyone in those sleeping bags awoke quickly when from out of the Jeep came two very big, very strong, and very beaten looking men leveling riffles at them, the whispered `click' of the safety being turned off echoed in the silenced clearing and the snide voice of a third man, standing on the driver's seat and leaning against the free-standing window with a cocky smile, boomed into everyone's ears.

 

“You are now our hostages. Move and we will fire.”

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Feeling was a luxury Quatre hadn't had for a while, and the while the numb aching pain he could feel in his chest was not fun, the sheer lack of feeling in his arms and in his frozen legs was quite frightening. But Treize had gone quiet hours ago; as the sun began to rise Treize's coughs had muffled until Quatre could hear nothing from his canoe, even as they were side by side with the other.

 

Quatre knew, though, that his weariness was nothing different than everyone else's. Trowa, Quatre knew, was shouldering the weight of most of the paddling in his boat, still keeping up with Heero and Quatre while Wufei needed to stop paddling to take care of Treize. And Trowa, Quatre had thought, was worse off than he was letting on. His eyes had an unfocused look -like when he woke from unconsciousness- and Quatre had thought he heard Trowa's head hit against a rock or something when he rolled from those bullets, catching Quatre after his jump. Heero too, seemed physically up to snuff, but Quatre knew that he was not as strong as he was letting on. He too had taken a bad shock when Duo fell and Quatre was sure Heero had carried Duo through the forest, straining his arms to a more intolerable limit than he told the rest of them. Quatre could feel sometimes the canoe lagging behind while Quatre knew he hadn't changed his paddling strength. Heero was sore more than Quatre was, he was sure. But, no one was worse off then Treize.

 

Quatre knew in his bones though, that Treize's very life was in the hands of the group and no one else. Quatre was one of them, too, and he had to not only pull his own weight but pull as much as he could of Treize's. Treize had befriended him and helped Quatre when he needed it, and now Quatre would, hell -had to-, return the favor. Quatre was coming to understand why they were such a close-knit group. Out in the wilderness each person relied on himself and his comrades for his very life. There could be no egos out here, and no petty arguments, it was a do-or-die atmosphere to the nth degree.

 

The sun had risen, it was just peeking out from beyond the horizon, but it was a relief none the less since they could make out where they were. Everyone could recognize the building, only a dot at their distance, but steadily growing, that sat atop a cliff overlooking the river. They would be at the lodge in less than an hour and get help. But they still had to keep their strength up for that hour.

 

Quatre noticed about the same time as everyone else: On the shore of the river stood Milly, with a very tall form close behind him on the beach. Milly was waving a paddle at them, moving it in sharp angles toward the shore. That was outdoor sign language, warning them to dock; there was an obstacle up ahead.

 

No one saw anything. Heero and Trowa began to whisper back and forth, gesturing and making half words before the other could finish. Quatre couldn't have followed if he had a manual, they were going so quick between the two!

 

But Duo could follow, it seemed, “If Milly is there than he has a radio and we can call for the ambulance from his camp. It's a helicopter from the airport; it won't care whether it has to go four more miles here or to the lodge to get Treize. Besides, we can get Jeeps to this take out point in minutes. Why the hell would Milly call us over if there really wasn't danger ahead?” Duo practically screamed.

 

Both Wufei and Heero dug their paddles in to make a 90 degree turn the moment Duo shut his mouth; the decision made.

 

The canoes began to slide into the sand in the shallow, Milly all but raced to the boats much further out than needed and much quicker than comfortable. The second he was out of reach from the shore, his back to the camp, he pulled a radio out from his pocket, and as discreetly as possible, turned it on, “Milly and tour group at Check Point One, we need help, ASAP. Hostage situation.” He rushed into the receiver to the shock of the rangers.

 

Sparing not a second to explain, Milly grabbed the front of both canoes, a fierce glint in his eyes. “GO!” He screamed, pushing the canoes back out onto the water in the blink of an eye, as the two hulking forms realized something wasn't right and pounded towards him. The two guys, recognizable as Alex and Muller hit Milly from behind, sending him to the water.

 

Heero and Trowa were the quickest to react, pistoning their paddles into the water and giving a mighty heave backwards. But with the current against them and their second rowers not as quick on the uptake they were overtaken. Alex and Muller each grabbed the tip of a canoe and, using their feet dug deep into the sand at the bottom, hauled the boats back into the shallow with more power than the paddlers could muster in a lightning moment. Alex and Miller were stupid, but they were god damned strong!

 

The two canoes were shredding sand on the beach in a matter of moments. Confined inside the narrow canoes, with injured, gear, and paddles, all four of the able-bodied were helpless to do a damn thing (except Trowa, who was able to bruise Muller's knuckles with the paddle, but they were on shore by then).

 

Nichol walked up and pointed his gun in the middle of Trowa's forehead, Alex taking the hint and grabbing a riffle and pointing it towards Heero. Muller was too busy nursing his purpling hand to back them up. “The bat, gentleman, please?”

 

“FUCK YOU!” Duo screamed, trapped worse than anyone else, not even able to move his arm to haul himself up to a sitting position.

 

Alex snarled and wrapped his hand around Duo's braid, yanking him up hard and vicious. The gear packed around him flew out from its place and tumbled onto the beach where Alex threw Duo down, still clutching his braid and aiming the gun barrel at his forehead.

 

What he didn't realize was that by removing Duo, who had been leaning on Heero's legs, he freed Heero as well and took away the gun pointed at the boats.

 

Heero shot from the canoe and hit Alex with a tackle so hard the man twice Heero's size flew to the ground, his hand still holding Duo's hair and taking his with him, sending Duo sprawling onto the beach on his broken arm. Heero straddled Alex's barn-sized chest and began to pound his fist into his face with such deadly concentration that he didn't even notice until Muller wrenched him off Alex by his collar that he himself had even moved.

 

Everyone, though, had been distracted, and Nichol was reeling from a boot to the face as Trowa vaulted out of the canoe with the acrobatics he had shown off at the talent night. They weren't for show after all. Trowa took no quarter and flew to Nichol's fallen form like lightning, nailing him as hard and fast as he could in the side with kicks that sent the older man's body off the ground each time as if he was being send shocks from a defribulator.

 

Wufei was trying to get out of the canoe and help without hurting Treize when Quatre realized there was nothing stopping him from helping as well.

 

Quatre was untangling himself from the canoe (with much less grace than Trowa, certainly) when Alex recovered from Yuy's blows. Duo was gulping breath in agony, able to only roll off his broken arm, but thankful that Alex had let go of his braid. But when he was able to see Alex, he didn't have the breath to warn.

 

Alex swept down upon Quatre in an instant, gripping his Leefa at the shoulder blades and hauling him out of the tangle of gear. Quatre was slightly grateful for that, until he felt the almost frozen-cold barrel of a very big gun at his jaw. Alex took only a second to move over to Duo's writhing form and place his foot, clad in thick black army boots, over Duo's chest, pushing until his screamed.

 

Both Heero and Trowa looked up from their victims and froze. Wufei had just managed to get out from the canoe when he was forced to freeze as well.

 

Alex grinned, giving Quatre a good shake that rattled his teeth. Nichol was the first to take advantage of the new situation, and after grasping a good breath or two, he stood. Looking Trowa straight tin the eye, he smirked and sent his fist pummeling straight into his gut, knowing the ranger couldn't fight back. Trowa bent double, and Nichol took another cheep shot, kicking his knees out from underneath him sending Trowa eating sand. Nichol took no quarter either, and began to boot Trowa in the middle as hard as he could, giddily waiting for a moan of pain or scream. Trowa had passed out before he got a scream the first time Nichol took him and the bat he had caught, and Nichol couldn't help the pulse of sick pleasure at the thought of getting another chance to pummel the ranger.

 

Muller took a few more minutes to process the change and notice that Psycho-Jap wasn't hitting him anymore. Muller saw Nichol take the Ranger down and nailed Yuy with a gut punch that sent the Jap to the ground.

 

Duo screamed from the ground, yelling Heero's name and curses all around. Flailing on the ground, he tried to hit Alex and claw at his leg, but all it got him was a harder push to his rib cage. Quatre was waiting for the snap.

 

Quatre, tears running down his face looked around, his head unimpeded by Alex's hold on his shirt between his shoulder blades. Wufei had taken up stance in front of the canoes, his lover inside and the bat moved to the one canoe as well. With dawning realization Quatre knew Wufei was getting ready to take off to the lodge with the most important things, and that he should've gone, except that he couldn't leave his friends.

 

Quatre turned to see Nichol sink his boot into Trowa's side again, and again, and Trowa simply took it, unable to retaliate. It was all Quatre's fault, he let himself get taken by Alex, of all of them, and he couldn't even help! Baling his hands into fists, Quatre resisted the urge to punch someone, he couldn't-

 

His hands weren't at all stopped. His legs hung limply and the gun at his jaw, the only thing really stopping him, had slackened as Alex watched his friends beat the others and was grinding his heel into Duo. But he knew, all Alex needed was to twitch his finger, and Quatre would have no head!

 

Trowa let out a gasp of pain, almost a scream, as Nichol kicked him again, sending his curled body rolling with the sheer force.

 

All thoughts of self flew out the window, with one sharp move, Quatre swung his hands up and grabbed the barrel, moving it up and over his head and took a swinging kick into Alex's exposed gut. The brute never even saw it coming. Alex let go of Quatre's leefa in shock and sent the blonde to the ground, still clutching the gun in his hand. Quatre wrenched the gun from his hand, throwing it towards the canoes, where he knew Wufei would grab it, and then, following the violence all around him, send his hardest kick into Alex's side.

 

Quatre turned and hauled Duo off the ground, moving him towards the canoes, where Wufei, gun in hand as expected, took him and set him beside Treize, moving to hand off guard duty to Quatre.

 

“Tro, they're safe!” Heero bellowed from the sand, where he was dodging Muller's poorly aimed hits with taunting ease. Without his boyfriend in danger, Heero's eyes shimmered flames. He got a solid footing and spun, aiming a roundhouse straight to the back of Muller's knees, sending the lump of flesh to the ground with a sick smack. Heero decided to make it count, and gave one more kick to the side of Muller's head, effectively knocking the few brains cells Mulller possessed and sending him into unconsciousness.

 

But Trowa wasn't getting up.

 

Heero flew towards Nichol, trying to tackle him off his friend. But Nichol was smarter than that and dodged, watching as Heero instead over compensated and found himself doing a spin in the sand in order face Nichol.

 

Quatre was over by Wufei, setting Duo down, but when Wufei handed him the gun, instead of taking it, Quatre propped it up so the trigger lay in the finger of Duo's good hand, and he could aim the riffle at anyone who came near. One nod, and Quatre dipped into the canoe and came out bearing Treize's paddle; the biggest and heaviest of all their paddles. Holding it handle up, so he could use it like a baseball bat, Quatre moved away form the canoes and towards the melee, Wufei already jumping into battle and backing Heero up.

 

Quatre did a mental count; one, Nichol vs. Heero; two, Wufei; and three, Trowa who was starting to move on his own; four, Muller eating sand from Heero's kick. Alex- Quatre didn't delude himself to think he had knocked him out, and even if he had, Alex wouldn't have disappeared. Alex was unaccounted for.

 

“You-- I know you! You work for Lex, at Libra inc. The mining company.” Quatre froze, remembering the name, and knowing the voice. Libra Inc. When Duo had said a strip mining company was set to buy the land, and when they saw the devastation that had --illegally-- began, Quatre had thought he remembered the name. Winner Corp. had contacts in Libra Inc; they bought their petroleum from Libra corp. But what had Quatre frozen was the familiarity of the voice.

 

He had forgotten the tour group had to be around there somewhere, if Milly was. Quatre found himself staring at the cluster of huddled people, all stuck as close together as they could against a rock the size of a house, and cut off from escape by a tarnished red jeep parked kiddy-corner and closing the brush off to their availability. There was Jane, and Jerry -the asshole-, Mr. Chang was not only sitting there, but tied up and gagged as well. But the voice had been his father, who now stood up, starring at Alex with squinted eyes, and then nodding, positive.

 

“Defiantly, I didn't recognize you with all the bruises. I'm sure we can make a deal...” Omar began.

 

“Shit,” Nichol said from the other side of the beach, dodging Heero and Wufei. He wasn't down yet because Heero and Wufei were weary of moving too far away from Trowa, who had just barely managed to kneel, leaning on arms that trembled beneath him.

 

“Now they all know us. Kill them all.” Nichol ordered. Heero and Wufei took that as their cue to tackle Nichol in one last ditch effort, and their combined efforts sent him down.

 

But Alex had retrieved a riffle from the jeep. He cocked it, and aimed at Omar, choosing the loudest first.

 

Quatre ran and sprang up beside Alex. Grabbing the gun from the surprised man, Quatre pushed the barrel towards the sky harmlessly, and got right within Alex's striking distance. Quatre dug his heels into the ground and fought to keep the gun high.

 

“He may be an Asshole, but he's still. My. DAD!”

 

And with that, Quatre let go of the riffle with one arm and pistoned his fist into Alex's gut, feeling the solid muscle beneath Alex's shirt buckle and shift around the fist. With a watery gasp, Alex grunted. Quatre kept his fist embedded into the other man's stomach, and Alex's eyes began to roll, unable to get breath.

 

The brute buckled, and Quatre went with him, unable to keep himself steady with the goliath falling, but he refused to remove his fist, only adding pressure as he landed, Alex completely unconscious.

 

The resounding chopping sound of propellers filled the air around the clearing, then, a voice boomed down from a loudspeaker, “This is the Forest Rangers. Put your hands up!” it bellowed, a machine gun pointing from the opened side panel down at the group. Everyone who could obliged, and the Helicopter Milly had called, hovered over the water as a group of men in black Military looking uniforms swung out from inside and swarmed the beach.

 

Right behind it buzzed a red helicopter, a white square with a blessed red medical cross shining from the side.

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Quatre watched the clouds pass across the crystal blue sky in a happy daze, laying on his back, face to the sky. The breeze brought the scents of pine, and cedar, and oak to him, and he delighted in being able to actually recognize what he was smelling. But a change in the wind brought a whole new riot of smells, of barbeque sauce, and hamburgers, and the scent of campfire spicing the air.

 

“CAT!” Duo called happily, “Stop staring at the sky and come and eat some of this delicious FREE FOOD!” Of course, that was the important part for Duo. The Wilderness Tours company had tried to give their distraught tourists the best in hopes of less law suits. The first thing they did upon getting the hostages back into their care was set them up for the best trauma therapy, then hosted a barbeque outside of the lodge, since most of the group was stuck there until their trip was officially over. Because of everything, they had been on the river two days less than the trip was supposed to and therefore they were all two days early for flights and rides. While some of the vacationers refused to leave their bunk houses, hiding under blankets rocking themselves, most had caught the victorious spirit of the guides. Everyone at the lodge had known about the Bat and when the group returned, a cage in hand and a very alive, very real Virginia Big-Eared bat was found inside, balloons, streamers and cake found itself littering the picnic as classic rock blared out of the Lodge PA system to the entire forest.

 

Quatre felt something be put on his exposed midriff (he wore one of Wufei's shirts, as the Manly-sized Black T-shirts had somehow been cut into strips and found their way up the river without paddles) and saw Trowa holding his own plate in one hand and supporting the one now sitting on Quatre's tummy with his other. Quatre bent, trying to get a look at the contents of the plate without spilling it and found he was unable to do so. Chuckling, Trowa lifted it until Quatre got in a seated position and then placed it on his lap.

 

Ravenously, Quatre attacked the hamburger, not realizing how hungry he had been until it was in sight as Trowa tousled the dirt out of his hair. “You're a mess.” He finally declared, giving up since the more he tried to remove the dirt clusters the more they broke into smaller bits and held onto the downy blonde hair.

 

“Quatre, look at you!” Omar's voice came from behind him. Quatre startled so bad he almost dropped the chips on his plate all over himself. This was the first time Quatre had spoken to him since the beach, Quatre finding himself `lost' and having to share a bunk house with Trowa, Heero, Duo, the wounded Treize and another `lost' vacationer, Wufei, which had been last night.

 

“Omar! Come and get your Burgers!” Jane called from beside the grill, sending Quatre's father's small spectrum of attention haywire for a moment. He decided upon the burgers and began towards the fire, Jane giving an exaggerated wink Quatre's way.

 

Trowa grinned and hauled Quatre to his feet the moment the burger was inhaled, grabbing the plate and dangling it playfully out of Quatre's reach. Trowa started to run, the plate jiggling behind him until he stood behind Treize's wheelchair, Wufei scowling that Trowa was horsing around near a wounded man, while Treize himself laughed. Duo's also ground-bound body slumped on a fallen log, beside Treize, content to let Heero feed him bits of chips because of his Oh-So-painful state with his one arm totally out of commission for at least a month, Doctor's orders, while his other arm seemed perfectly capable of snagging Quatre's plate from Trowa and placing it on the ground within the circle of them.

 

Quatre happily obliged, sitting himself with them feeling not at all the stranger.

 

Milly sauntered over, patted Treize's head in a falsely pitying way, and snagged a chip from the plate on Treize's lap. “Who's going swimming?” Milly asked, as dignified as could be with a mouthful of stolen chips.

 

“Die, Milliardo.” Treize sneered, knowing full well there was no way he could even get near the water as `weak' as he was. Treize was still calling that doctor that confined him to a wheelchair for the week a blind crackpot because, of course, loosing almost all the blood in one's body would most certainly not qualified him as less than up-to snuff.

 

Trowa stood and pulled his shirt, a very fitting white T turned tank that proclaimed he had climbed K-2, over his head and let it drop to the ground, followed by his snap-off track pants that left him looking delicious in nothing but navy-blue swimming trunks, the rest of him a rippling muscle perfectly honed, gleaming in the sunlight, like a-

 

Quatre pulled his thoughts off course before he would be unable to stand.

 

Trowa moved towards a trail going down the fifteen foot outcropping that overlooked the river which moved peacefully and gently by, there harbored from the eddies.

 

“Pansy!” Duo shouted as Trowa took to the trail, “Am I and only one with guts enough to jump it. The water is like, so friggan deep you'll never hit bottom. All've you are Pansies!” Duo continued as Heero stripped and moved towards the trail, followed by Milly. Duo pouted and stood as well, waving a good bye to Wufei and his chair-bound lover, knowing he too was not allowed in the water, but at least he could make the walk and sit on the shore and watch enviously from the trail.

 

“You're ALL Pansy-ass fags!” Jerry sneered from beside the barbeque, low enough that only those immediately surrounding him heard, which, thankfully for him, was not anyone who was friendly with any of the Rangers or Winner and Chang. Except Omar.

 

“My son really does need to toughen up,” Omar said to a woman sitting beside him who was trying her hardest to ignore him, “I thought a vacation out here would change that.” He sighed and found himself sneering at his son's exposed lower back, and the bright white T-shirt that shone almost sunshine yellow in certain light that his boy was wearing.

 

Quatre, oblivious to the discussions about him going on, smirked at Duo and walked to the very edge of the overhang, looking down to see Trowa and Heero already in the water, with Milly just sliding in from the side. He took a look at the water, judged Duo hadn't been lying, and hollered down, “last time I jumped, you promised to catch me!”

 

Trowa, surprised to hear Quatre's teasing voice looked up. He couldn't be serious? Quatre had been so panicked about even climbing... But there he was, leaning over the edge to talk to them. He was serious.

 

“Last time you also got a kiss!” Trowa hollered back up, watching gleefully and Quatre shucked off his borrowed shirt and slid off the loose-fitting jeans he wore to show his baby-blue swimming trunks.

 

Stepping back into the grass, incidentally catching the attention of more than a few of the tour group, Quatre took a running start. Hitting the edge, he jumped, opening his arms and letting himself go, free of all his worried and confident that Trowa be there at the bottom.

 

He poised his arms for contact just in time for the water to meet him. The freezing cold river water doused him and shocked his system to screams as he bobbed back up to the surface, Trowa right by his side, grabbing onto his arm to make sure he didn't go back under, laughing as Quatre sputtered and coughed the river water out of his unprepared lungs.

 

Once he was stable, Trowa drew him in, wrapping his still-warm arms around Quatre and dunking the two of them under water, plundering each other's lips until they began to tread water together, breaking the surface for much needed breath.

 

Trowa let him go, smirking like the devil himself. “I take it you aren't afraid of heights any longer?” he taunted.

 

Quatre smiled brighter than Trowa had ever seen, “Afraid? Hell no, I think you guys created a monster. It's just- Absolutely like- WOW- What a...”

 

“Rush?” Trowa supplied, and Quatre nodded so enthusiastically, he just about dunked himself again.

 

“That's what I feel with climbing, Heero with rafting, Duo with his cave trekking, all of us have out favorites. Do I suspect you've found yours?”

 

“Heero!” Duo called, closer to the group than Quatre had realized, “I think we have ourselves a base-jumping addict!”

 

Everyone split into peels of laughter, save Quatre who looked around curiously.

 

“What's that?”

 

END

 

 

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Author's notes

 

This is it, the end. I had visions of a sequel but abolished them. This fic is a story of a boy finding his inner strength and he has. There is always more to a tale, but it's not necessary to write. There are too many other tales waiting to be told to dally over a completed one.

 

Special notes about the fic: I had a few people ask about the “Leefa”. I kinda made that word up a bit.

 

The shirt is made by many sports manufacturers, it's a fabric that takes the sweat off your body into the layers of the shirt to keep you warm. The best of them is by the company Lifa â„¢ . Kind of like Kleenex refers to all sorts of tissue, Lifa seems to be the same for these clothes, at least where my experience lies. I didn't want to use the company name with the â„¢ all the time throughout the story, so I devised a way to say what I meant without the actual term. So I gave birth to “Leefa”, which is what the word sounds like spoken. I was quite enthused to find someone actual tell me they went looking to find out what a leefa was and found out it was a brand. I was quite blown away that someone had actually taken the time. I researched this story for longer than you know.

 

I was told by a reviewer that Wilderness was at a YEAR OLD a little while ago. I laughed. It's a lot older than that. I had started writing Wilderness under my last author's name Die Spitze in April 2004. I'd began writing it almost a year before that too. But it is now finished, and I'm gonna miss getting E-mail reviews from people. *Tear*. I guess I'll just have to get my ass in gear on my newest fic, GW-X or maybe do another little one-shot to keep me going. Who knows, My muse isn't too reliable for really good ideas, and when it does have one I never seem to find the time to type it out. I'm a horrendously slow typer after all.

 

Please leave a review. Even if you never reviewed before and have nothing really to say, just an `I was here' makes me feel loved. It really is my reviewers that keep me posting. I write for me, but I don't usually share without a lot of cajoling. And my main source of cajoling has moved to British Columbia. (Thanks Abby, really. Thanks. Leave me here alone. I don't care if you finish `Here, Queer, Used to it' anyway. Hmp.)

 

I hoped you enjoyed wilderness and I hope you respect that it never went to a lemon. What kind of `finding respect yourself' story could I do if Quat was rolling on the hey with forest ranger Trowa within days of meeting him? Really now? I've nothing against smut, but this story didn't call for it.

 

Love you all!

 

Dentelle_noir