Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Yes Master, My Master ❯ Part 7 ( Chapter 7 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Spider_Queen 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.0K | Visits: 641 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.0K | Visits: 641 | Status: Completed
Quatre lay on his back on the soft feather bed, his brilliant eyes wide open, staring up into the dark. Beside him, Gabriel slept on his stomach, with one bare arm slung over Quatre's chest in a meaningless gesture. The two were covered by a thin, stain sheet that provided little in the way of warmth, though that was no problem. Quatre could still feel the streaks his tears had made as they had coursed down his face, but his crying had long since stopped.
He felt very empty, very alone, like a shadow. He was a shadow-a shadow of his former self. He was truly broken now-he had been the moment the whip HE held connected with the flesh of Teren, the child Gabriel had "offered" Quatre. He had slipped the rest of the way when Teren's breath had stilled, and his body slumped forward lifelessly.
Immediately afterwards, Quatre had dropped the weapon and made his way to the child's body, releasing him and cradling the bloody form in his lap as tears ran uncontrollably down his face. He had never hurt someone, not like that....never on a personal level in such a way. He had never harmed the defenseless, he always gave his enemies a chance to surrender first.......
After a while, Gabriel had come and pulled the blond to his feet. Quatre was still crying as the older man led him from the room, a gentle and almost compassionate hand on his shoulder to guide the shorter boy. Gabriel had spoken, but Quatre could not remember what had been said.
The Arabian had tried to regain himself somewhat that night, he had tried to stand proud and resist when Gabriel pressed himself against the smaller boy. But a word, a name from Gabriel was all it took to crack that shell: "Trowa."
No, Quatre couldn't bear the thought of his silent lover in that position, being beaten; broken; raped or killed. So Quatre had lowered his head and let Gabriel's slender hands run over his body, almost gently. He had turned when Gabriel bid him; and-much to his hidden dismay-had instinctivly whispered "Yes, Master" at the command.
That had been hours ago. Hours since Gabriel had become exhausted and fell asleep. Hours in which Quatre had lay there, silent and unmoving as he stared upward, probing the emptiness inside him and thinking the earlier events through.
Could he bring his old self back? Could he ignore the pain he'd caused, the pain he'd felt. Could he become himself once again, fill this shell? There was still the possibility of rescue, Trowa wouldn't have given up....... Quatre knew he couldn't survive as empty as he was, that he'd die-perhaps not in body, but in spirit. He didn't want to become someone else........He didn't want to lose that which made him unique, which made Trowa love him....
Trowa. Quatre couldn't hurt Trowa, though. He'd rather become Gabriel than watch his loved one suffer because of him........
Slowly, the young pilot's eyes slid shut. He tried to call the picture of Trowa to his mind...his hair, his scent, the small smile that he showed Quatre alone.......Trowa could fill the emptiness within him....Trowa could keep him alive within his dead shell....it was Quatre's last hope.
The picture in his mind was blurred, no longer clear. His memories were fading...the haze and darkness that was filling him was eating at his memories, and it hurt more than the whip.
Tears once again pricking at his eyes, Quatre willed the image to sharpen, become the Trowa he knew and recognized, but little changed. It was still off, still distorted....like Quatre himself had become.
Quatre opened his eyes again, willing his mind's image of Trowa to disappear. He didn't want to think about the boy, he didn't need to be reminded that his lover was no longer in his life. Yes, Trowa wasn't in his life any longer. How could he be? A month had past since Quatre's abduction and he still hadn't been found. It was foolish to hope for rescue. Trowa may not give up the search for him, not yet, but Quatre couldn't pretend that he'd find them. Life was not a fairy tale, and perhaps the ending was only so happy in the sense that he would continue living, as someone-something-else. Truly happy endings didn't exist.
The thought depressed Quatre further....he wanted to cry, he wanted to drown in a salty ocean of tears, but he had no more tears to shed.
The blond turned his head slightly; his eyes focusing on the dim form that slept silently beside him. He felt unaccustomed hatred rise in him as he searched the pale face, so relaxed and peaceful looking in sleep. This man was responsible for his pain, for the pain of others.....This man was the one who was slowly hollowing Quatre's soul out.....But at the same time, Quatre felt a deep sense of pity. He had been treated much the same way; he had said-and seeing the scars that crisscrossed Gabriel's skin, Quatre could believe it. How could Gabriel do what he did, when he knew the pain he was causing? How could he derive pleasure from it? How could he bring himself to steal someone else away, after he had been taken from his own life?
Had the older man's memories faded away as well? Had his entire universe begun revolving around the torture? Perhaps that was all he knew, and so it was all he could promise?
Would the same thing happen to Quatre, was Gabriel right in that respect? Perhaps, it would have happened had Quatre not fought in the war....had he stayed with his father and sisters, a dutiful, naive heir rather than running away, maybe this situation would prove too much for him. But he couldn't let it prove too much for him. He would not let his memories fade away completely; he would not allow his personality to die. He couldn't.....he might submit, he might be openly broken, but Quatre refused to let himself be lost forever. He couldn't become Gabriel....he couldn't....
He felt very empty, very alone, like a shadow. He was a shadow-a shadow of his former self. He was truly broken now-he had been the moment the whip HE held connected with the flesh of Teren, the child Gabriel had "offered" Quatre. He had slipped the rest of the way when Teren's breath had stilled, and his body slumped forward lifelessly.
Immediately afterwards, Quatre had dropped the weapon and made his way to the child's body, releasing him and cradling the bloody form in his lap as tears ran uncontrollably down his face. He had never hurt someone, not like that....never on a personal level in such a way. He had never harmed the defenseless, he always gave his enemies a chance to surrender first.......
After a while, Gabriel had come and pulled the blond to his feet. Quatre was still crying as the older man led him from the room, a gentle and almost compassionate hand on his shoulder to guide the shorter boy. Gabriel had spoken, but Quatre could not remember what had been said.
The Arabian had tried to regain himself somewhat that night, he had tried to stand proud and resist when Gabriel pressed himself against the smaller boy. But a word, a name from Gabriel was all it took to crack that shell: "Trowa."
No, Quatre couldn't bear the thought of his silent lover in that position, being beaten; broken; raped or killed. So Quatre had lowered his head and let Gabriel's slender hands run over his body, almost gently. He had turned when Gabriel bid him; and-much to his hidden dismay-had instinctivly whispered "Yes, Master" at the command.
That had been hours ago. Hours since Gabriel had become exhausted and fell asleep. Hours in which Quatre had lay there, silent and unmoving as he stared upward, probing the emptiness inside him and thinking the earlier events through.
Could he bring his old self back? Could he ignore the pain he'd caused, the pain he'd felt. Could he become himself once again, fill this shell? There was still the possibility of rescue, Trowa wouldn't have given up....... Quatre knew he couldn't survive as empty as he was, that he'd die-perhaps not in body, but in spirit. He didn't want to become someone else........He didn't want to lose that which made him unique, which made Trowa love him....
Trowa. Quatre couldn't hurt Trowa, though. He'd rather become Gabriel than watch his loved one suffer because of him........
Slowly, the young pilot's eyes slid shut. He tried to call the picture of Trowa to his mind...his hair, his scent, the small smile that he showed Quatre alone.......Trowa could fill the emptiness within him....Trowa could keep him alive within his dead shell....it was Quatre's last hope.
The picture in his mind was blurred, no longer clear. His memories were fading...the haze and darkness that was filling him was eating at his memories, and it hurt more than the whip.
Tears once again pricking at his eyes, Quatre willed the image to sharpen, become the Trowa he knew and recognized, but little changed. It was still off, still distorted....like Quatre himself had become.
Quatre opened his eyes again, willing his mind's image of Trowa to disappear. He didn't want to think about the boy, he didn't need to be reminded that his lover was no longer in his life. Yes, Trowa wasn't in his life any longer. How could he be? A month had past since Quatre's abduction and he still hadn't been found. It was foolish to hope for rescue. Trowa may not give up the search for him, not yet, but Quatre couldn't pretend that he'd find them. Life was not a fairy tale, and perhaps the ending was only so happy in the sense that he would continue living, as someone-something-else. Truly happy endings didn't exist.
The thought depressed Quatre further....he wanted to cry, he wanted to drown in a salty ocean of tears, but he had no more tears to shed.
The blond turned his head slightly; his eyes focusing on the dim form that slept silently beside him. He felt unaccustomed hatred rise in him as he searched the pale face, so relaxed and peaceful looking in sleep. This man was responsible for his pain, for the pain of others.....This man was the one who was slowly hollowing Quatre's soul out.....But at the same time, Quatre felt a deep sense of pity. He had been treated much the same way; he had said-and seeing the scars that crisscrossed Gabriel's skin, Quatre could believe it. How could Gabriel do what he did, when he knew the pain he was causing? How could he derive pleasure from it? How could he bring himself to steal someone else away, after he had been taken from his own life?
Had the older man's memories faded away as well? Had his entire universe begun revolving around the torture? Perhaps that was all he knew, and so it was all he could promise?
Would the same thing happen to Quatre, was Gabriel right in that respect? Perhaps, it would have happened had Quatre not fought in the war....had he stayed with his father and sisters, a dutiful, naive heir rather than running away, maybe this situation would prove too much for him. But he couldn't let it prove too much for him. He would not let his memories fade away completely; he would not allow his personality to die. He couldn't.....he might submit, he might be openly broken, but Quatre refused to let himself be lost forever. He couldn't become Gabriel....he couldn't....