*...* denotes thought
------ lines between these symbols connotate a flashback
******* identifies a break in scenes
[1,2,3,4,...] signifies author notes at the bottom of fic
Notes: okay, this chapter IS NOT as dark as the previous one, but it does discuss the events of the previous chapter in some minor details... but there is a little, tiny new and disturbing event later on in the chapter... um, alot of angst, I guess... characters are probably OOC, but... *shrugs shoulders* I was getting tired of playing around with it and just wanted to get this part posted so I could move on... urk, just go read... no flames, onegai, but feedback is greatly and avidly collected and appreciated!! ^_^
Gundam Forest Book 1 Part 5
Sorrow...
That one word conjures forth thoughts and images of loss and anguish...
Despair...
It was all he could feel; the only thing that seeped through the cold walls of ice he had placed around himself... to protect himself.
Pain...
It had been such an integral part of his life for so long that it was the actual absence of the torment that brought his mind back from the brink, back from the numbness which was so welcoming.
Over the past year, he had been aware, even though it hadn't seemed so, of all the pain and torment that Teishu had inflicted upon him. The drug that he had been given, time and time again, had done its job of destroying his resistance, his capabilities of fighting back. However, the drug had not destroyed his awareness, his capability of understanding what was happening to him.
What was being done to him.
And he had suffered quietly, hoping for the day when revenge might be his to take. When the day would come that he could exact his vengeance for the atrocities he had suffered at the hands of that deranged psychopath and his red haired witch.
He still could not believe how easily they had captured him.
OZ and the Romefeller foundation had tried so many methods, so many intricate designs to try and capture him and the other gundam pilots. Delicate traps, obscure ruses, tempting baits, intriguing lures, deadly snares... all had failed. They had eluded capture time and time again.
But he, the 'perfect soldier', had been brought down by the oldest trick in the book.
It still boggled his mind that he could have been so derelict in his attentiveness, so lax in his analysis of the situation that he allowed the evil couple the upper hand.
And the past year in captivity had been his penance.
But no more.
He had known what Teishu had planned for him. How could he not? Especially with the man and his evil dominatrix gloating over the amount of cash he'd rake in for them. He had discerned that they were going to sell his body, his flesh. That they were going to make him an unwilling prostitute, soiled profession hidden underneath the tantalizing title of 'night companion'. And he had been aware that they would drug him.
And there was nothing that he could do about it.
So he had been prepared to accept his fate. To simply block it out of his mind, write it off as simply another sacrifice to the war.
Except there was no war... not anymore... and there hadn't been for over a year.
Without the war to rationalize his surrendering, he was left with no other option but consenting to his fate, hoping for a chance of retribution in the future. And so he had given in, with the most stoic of wills. He had prepared for the events of the evening, for the familiar sensations of helplessness induced by the damnable drug they fed him.
What he had not expected, was the outcome that had occurred.
When Teishu had first brought in the man who had won the auction, Heero couldn't believe his eyes. The resemblance was too uncanny to be anything but the real thing.
The shock to his drugged brain had proven too much and the rest of the evening had passed in a dull haze. He had been aware of rioting sensations shooting through his system, of sensual caresses running up and down his body once more.
The absence of physical affection had left his mind and heart numb, the return had begun the thaw. The stimulation had proven too much for his already taxed emotional circuitry, and he had been left with no other recourse but to let his emotions out in the only method left to him.
He had begun to cry.
In the entire year he had been a prisoner of Teishu, he had never once given in to his sorrow, the grief in his heart. He had quietly closed off that part of himself, vowing never to let those particular emotions free again, erecting walls to block all such feelings from surfacing.
And less than twenty minutes of familiar affection had broken down those walls again.
He had been conscious of the night's subsequent events. The escape from the brothel which had been his home for the past year, the following flight into the night, and the final ending of his journey. It was only when he had once again been surrounded by immobile walls that he had allowed himself to sink into the darkness that beckoned him, to surrender to the familiar tug of nothingness that followed the heels of the drug.
Only this time it was different.
He was no longer in a world where his choices were taken away from him, decided by someone else. He was back in a place where he had once been considered a friend, an ally, a companion, and a beloved. No longer among strangers, dark faces hidden in the shadows of obscurity and felony.
No, he was back among those he had once considered his partners... his family... Once more back in a place that held no terror of retaliation for bold acts, no promised punishments for willfulness or disobedience. A place where he no longer needed to feel fear.
And yet... he was more terrified of this place than he had ever been of Teishu or the Girou.
*********************
The girl focused her piercing gaze on the computer screen in front of her, the incandescent glow casting her features into a motley mixture of green and blue hues, interwoven with concealing shadows. Her eyes were wide with the features of youth, but contained a wealth of experience and knowledge that didn't belong in one so deceptively young.
The girl lazily twirled a strand of her dark hair in her fingers, allowing the silk like tendrils to sift through her relaxed grip. Although the girl's posture was laid back and subdued, her eyes were narrowed into twin spears of ice, aimed at the unfortunate peon whose image appeared on her computer screen.
Her tone deceptively soft, she queried, "So, General Valenta failed?"
The subordinate on the screen had the decency and common sense to look nervous and apprehensive, sweat having begun to bead on his rather sloping forehead. He began to stutter, praying that his response would not anger the girl too much. "Uh... w-we're not su-sure that he did f-fail, ma'am. It's o-only th-that he hasn't c-come b-back yet."
The girl nodded her head in understanding, her lips pursing together in a thoughtful expression. "I see," she murmured.
She continued to twirl her hair around her lithe fingers, her head now cocked to one side. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she sighed and said, "In any event it doesn't matter. As of now, consider General Valenta and his two subordinates AWOL. Contact me immediately if they return or are seen."
The soldier on the screen jerked his body to attention, giving off a sharp salute. Stark relief was apparent in his eyes even as he signed off. "Yes ma'am."
The screen went blank for a moment, before the girl deftly moved the mouse of the computer to open up an adjoining message window. As the screen opened and revealed the aging man on the other side of the link, the girl sank deeply into her chair, steepling her small fingers together.
The man turned his prosthetic eyes on the young girl, his white hair lanky around his sagging jowls. Metal fingers, replacements for long since forgotten flesh and bone digits, clacked together with sharp, metal pings. The man waited patiently for the girl to speak first, having learned long ago of her sporadic temper fluxuations.
The girl turned her unwavering gaze on the man and asked in a simple tone, "You heard?"
The man nodded quickly, his head bobbing up and down. His voice, harsh and scratchy answered, "Every word. Am I correct in assuming that they shall now be left to me?"
The girl nodded her assent, her voice reverted to childish delight. "Of course. You may play with them as you like, J. I don't need them anymore."
"And what shall you do about your missing objective? Undoubtedly he is back with the others by now."
The girl shrugged her slim shoulders, unconcerned about the recent turn of events. "It doesn't much matter. Eventually he will be left alone. The other will age and die, as mortal things are wont to do. I can be patient and bide my time. I have before."
The girl continued to sat back in the chair, pulling forth a strand of her hair and once more twirling it around her fingers. Her eyes lazily followed the movements of her hands, the conversation temporarily forgotten. Suddenly her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her, motivating her into sitting up straight in her chair and leaning towards the computer screen.
Her voice remained soft, yet a new undercurrent of steel laced the words. "What concerns me now is the pilot that came to you before. Are you certain that you gave him the flesh and he ate it?"
Dr. J nodded once, his movement curt and sharp, his agitation and disgruntlement at being questioned apparent. "Of course I'm sure. I'm not an idiot."
The girl ignored his comment of idiocy, her eyes flashing, barely keeping a leash on her temper. One corner of her lips turned upwards in a slight sneer, her angelic countenance marred. "Then why isn't he dead?" she bit out.
Dr. J shrugged his bent shoulders, uncaring of the wrath seeping from the girl's aura. "I have yet to discern all the secrets concerning the flesh, child. The boy ate it, I'm sure of that. He hasn't yet shown any adverse effects. It could very well mean that -"
The girl cut the doctor off, her impatience getting the best of her. "I know what eating the flesh entails. I have over 800 years of experience with it, J. If he has gained eternal youth, I will deal with it myself. YOU will have your hands full with Valenta and his cronies."
Dr. J stiffened for a moment before he relaxed and allowed a smile to cross his face. "I understand, ma'am. However, my supply is dwindling. I will need reinforcements."
The reply was curt. "You'll get it."
The girl nodded once and severed the electronic link, shifting the computer onto its idle mode. She sank back into her seat again, her fingers idly tapping the arm rests of her chair. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to become lost in thought.
She didn't move or start when a door to her right suddenly opened, the silent [whoosh] heralding the entrance of another. She blithely ignored the newcomer, her posture still relaxed.
A question cracked the surface of the silence in the room, the inquiry snaking its way between the two people. "There are now two?"
The girl answered the other, not bothering to shift her position. "Hai. Not that it changes anything. If the other gets in the way, we'll simply eliminate him. Although, he may come in handy."
"Agreed," came the quiet accordance.
Silence returned to the small room, though companionable in association. The girl in the chair finally bestirred herself to face her visitor, giving the other a swift once over with her eyes. "You know," she chatted lightly, her tone staying light and non committal. "You might want to think about finding another face. The scar's beginning to come through again. It wouldn't do to scare him off just as we're finally reaching our objectives, now would it?" [1]
The girl's companion reached up with her hand to touch the right side of her face, right under the eye. Graceful fingers lightly grazed over skin that was slightly raised above the rest.
With a small shudder, the woman dropped her hand back to her side, her head tilting down with her hair falling to shield her face from view. She answered back quietly, her voice lower and strained. "How much time do I have?"
The girl in the chair gently arched her back, extending her arms above her head. Done with her impromptu stretch, she turned her gaze back to the other woman and gave her an answer. "A matter of days... perhaps even weeks. There's no need in rushing these things. We've come too far to make a stupid mistake now."
The girl's eyes narrowed once more into frigid slits of ice as she said, "And I, for one, am not willing to wait ANOTHER hundred or so years to find an eligible candidate."
The woman raised her face to glance at the girl, her eyes focused on the smaller, physically younger female. Prussian blue eyes narrowed into blue flints, the voice turning into a steel rod of determination. "No, you can't wait. And neither will I. I want my son back and you... I'm still not entirely sure what you want... but I will agree to your terms as long as no permanent harm comes to him."
The girl in the chair smirked at her companion, her youthful visage innocuous. Her lips curled into a smile that unnerved and agitated her partner. In a surreptitious voice that oozed with false reassurance, the girl answered, "Do not worry. Soon, we shall both have all that we desire."
*********************
The Winner estate was grand, the lawn lush and fertile, the level of maintenance obviously high. Sprawling hills were covered with strategically planted forests of trees and other aesthetically pleasing landscape marks. The mansion itself rose majestically against the sky, a towering culmination of money and astounding architecture. However, the beauty of the residence was lost on the man that was gazing upon it, as was the beauty of the sunrise.
Wufei Chang overlooked the vast mass of land that belonged to the Winner family. One of countless dozens of estates, the sprawling mansion had once been his home. Pride, grief, and sorrow had stripped all that away from him.
Wufei proceeded to walk along the panorama, stopping every now and then to appreciate an exquisite piece of foliage. Nothing but the best for the Winner family.
It was amazing what money could and could not buy you.
Wufei headed towards a small gazebo that graced the rear lawn, its white walls gleaming in the natural light of the dawning sun. He quickly ascended the wooden steps, his light feet quiet with the discipline resulted from years of training to be stealthy.
Wufei continued to gaze about the grounds, his gaze irrevocably settling once more on the main house. It had been a year since he had last stepped foot into the place he once called home, yet the events that had led to his self inflicted seclusion were as clear to him as if they had happened yesterday.
Wufei sat down on one of the pristine seats as his gaze clouded over with memories long since buried. It had all begun when the ex pilots had returned from the failed mission at the OZ Base 97248...
------
[one year ago]
The five pilots entered Quatre's family estate, silent and reserved despite their victorious escape from the now destroyed base. Each pilot sported their own fair share of bruises and badges of their treatment at the hands of the soldiers, but none complained.
Or at least, they didn't complain too loudly.
Quatre hissed as Trowa helped him over to the soft sofa, his ribs being jarred even by the gentle movements of the taller boy. His green eyes distressed, Trowa settled the smaller pilot on the sofa before briefly disappearing to fetch a med kit to bind the boy's ribs. Broken or not, the bones needed to be bound, before irreparable damage was done.
Tense silence reigned through the large living room, each warrior lost in his own thoughts.
Wufei hovered around the back of the sofa, keeping one hand gently on Quatre's shoulder for support, careful not to exert too much pressure on the battered boy's frame. His black gaze was downcast, his mood indistinguishable.
Trowa was silently kneeling before his blond lover, quietly bandaging the boy's ribs. He was intent on his task, allowing nothing else to interfere with his concentration, including his own aches and pain and his swelling eye.
Duo was sitting on a vacant chair, his hair limply hanging around his face and down his back. The braided pilot ignored his split lip and the dried blood that was a result from it. His eyes were large and haunted, the amethyst depths filled with unanswered questions and unnamed doubt and terror. For once, the normally boisterous American was quiet, his bottomless depths of light humor and good will depleted for the first time.
Heero, heedless of his torn and blood stained clothing, of the dried blood that streaked down his face and matted his brown hair, was staring out the window into the endless depths of the night. He had placed his gun on the coffee table upon entering the room, having discerned that the others might be more comfortable around him if he was unarmed. His gaze was turned away from the other pilots, yet he could still vaguely see them in the pale reflections of the window.
Having finished patching up the blond, Trowa quietly put away the med supplies, keeping one syringe out. The small contained held a yellowish liquid, a small dose of morphine. Knowing that his blond lover was practically immobile with pain, he prepared to inject the painkiller into Quatre's arm. However a slender, yet shaking, hand stopped him, stilled his movements before he could deliver the medication.
Trowa swiftly looked up, his green gaze meeting light blue. Two gazes locked as a blond head shook in negation, refusing the easy lure of unconsciousness. Trowa's eyes narrowed in a rare display of his stubborn streak, yet quickly widened in understanding as the blue eyes quickly flicked over to the window and then back again. Trowa broke the gaze first, surreptitiously occupying his hands with putting the syringe back into the med kit. He took out two white pills instead and proffered them to the blond who accepted them gratefully.
Wufei watched the exchange silently, not deigning to comment on the silent communication. With one last gentle squeeze of his hand, he let it drop from Quatre's shoulder, letting it fall back to his side. He lifted his gaze to observe the unusually quiet American, silently choosing among various options before deciding on a course of action. The boy was in shock, and they needed to jolt him out of it.
He swiftly moved around the sofa and headed over to the braided boy's side. He gruffly said, "Maxwell. You're next."
A pair of violet eyes flicked once at the Chinese man before they swiftly returned to gazing at the hardwood floor. Normally the brush off would have sparked the Asian's temper, but this time it just alarmed him.
Obviously it alarmed someone else too.
Heero turned from the window and started to walk towards his lover. With a quiet tread on the floor, his sneakers making hardly a sound, Heero walked to the violet eyed pilot, his hand outstretched in a silent plea.
"C'mon Duo. Let's get you cleaned up."
The resulting action was quick.
Duo swiftly bolted up from the chair to turn and face his bloody lover. "Don't touch me!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.
Heero's shock was apparent on his face for a brief moment before his usual mask of indifference fell back into place. In a low tone he said, "Don't be silly, Duo. We need to get you cleaned up."
Duo backed up one step even as he sneered in a warning. "No. I mean it. Don't you fucking touch me!"
"Duo, stop this! You're acting strangely!" came Heero's reply.
"Am I? And what about you, Mr. Perfect Soldier? How are you acting lately? What was that all about back there?"
"What are you talking about?"
The other three pilots watched silently as the two lovers quarreled back and forth. Each pilot was wary and distrustful, none of them having an explanation for the strange phenomenon that had occurred. By their own accounts and senses of logic, Heero should be dead. But he wasn't. Instead he was standing in the middle of Quatre's living room, his clothing and body marred with blood and gore, arguing with a battered Duo.
Duo and Heero hadn't noticed them, indeed they were acting as if they didn't have an audience, the others' presences having been momentarily forgotten.
"You know very well what I'm talking about, Heero! You may be the "Perfect Soldier", able to jump from tall buildings with almost nary a bruise, fix your own broken bones, bend steel with your bare hands, but no one, NO ONE, can simply walk away after being shot with dozens of bullets. I don't care HOW good you are, you simply can't come back from the dead! It's not natural!"
Heero stood there, his face strained and white, his eyes growing wider with each word. After a tense pause, he allowed his outstretched hand to fall limply to his side, his face turning and tilting down. His shaggy bangs fell stiffly forward, abruptly hiding his eyes from his observers.
Quatre silently looked back and forth between the two pilots, ignoring his own stings of pain. In a voice as even as he could possibly make it, he said quietly, "Maybe you'd better explain to all of us what's going on, Heero."
Wufei swiftly looked at his blond lover and whipped out with, "Maybe?? He'd damn well better explain what's going on."
Heero took quick glances at the other pilots before turning back to the window. He stared out over the lawn of the Winner estate for several minutes before he quietly said, "I guess you all do deserve an explanation. You see, all of my so-called special abilities are really just the end results of an experiment."
"An experiment?" queried Quatre, his interest pricked. "Whose experiment?"
Heero turned a brief glance at Quatre before returning to look out the window. He answered shortly, "Dr. J's."
Trowa, having quietly taken a seat next to Sandrock's pilot, being mindful to not jar his ribs, entered the conversation with a quiet question. "What did he do, Heero?"
"He fed me flesh. Flesh that gave me seemingly endless possibilities while at the same time gave me a curse of immortality."
Quatre raised one eyebrow even as he asked, "And what flesh was that? I've never heard of such a thing."
The atmosphere of the room was pregnant with a heavy silence, the other four pilots awaiting Heero's answer. They were not prepared for it.
Heero closed his eyes even as he answered with, "Dr. J gave me mermaid's flesh."
Stunned muteness echoed through the room, before four individual reactions burst forth from their creators.
"What kind of joke is this?!"
"Kisama! What kinds of fools do you take us for?!!"
"Now who's being ridiculous, Heero?!"
"There are no such creatures as mermaids." [2]
Heero's shoulders tensed for a moment before he turned around to face the others. His normally passive face was intense with his glare, his prussian blue eyes narrowed with barely leashed anger.
"Stop it! Just stop it, all of you!"
The four pilots were stunned into silence at Heero's uncharacteristic outburst. Heero didn't notice as he continued to lash out at them.
"Don't make assumptions about things you have no knowledge about! Mermaids do exist, or at least they did, and Dr. J somehow managed to get his claws on some. More than two years ago, before any of you had ever begun to train to pilot your Gundams, I had been Dr. J's guinea pig in his little experiments to test the capabilities of mermaid flesh!"
Heero turned back around, his shoulders shaking with his attempts to regain his control. The other pilots barely heard him as he said softly, "I was just one of many he tried it on. And I was the only one who survived."
The others were stunned into silence, both at Heero's revelations and at his uncharacteristic eruption. Duo and Wufei both looked away, their gazes turned from the Japanese. Trowa had turned inwards, his gaze focused on the coffee table. Quatre broke the silence, his curiosity overpowering his reticence. "What was the result of eating the mermaid flesh?"
Heero answered in a low monotone, his rigid control back in place. "There is an old Japanese legend regarding the flesh of a mermaid. It is supposed to grant eternal youth and beauty to those who eat it. And yes, it does grant immortality to some who eat it, but only a lucky few. Most die from the consumption of the flesh, others are horribly mutated."
"And why is that?" Quatre asked, with more calmness in his voice than he currently felt.
Heero paused for a moment before he continued. "You see, the flesh of the mermaid is actually a fearsome poison and most people cannot tolerate the transformation. They say that only one in every 500 or so people can gain immortality. Dr. J knew all this. He is where I got this information. Of course, he didn't bother to tell me this until after he had fed us the flesh."
Trowa broke in with a quiet statement, not a question. "And yet he still fed the flesh to you, even with his knowledge."
"Not just to me. He fed it to ten other boys. I was the only one to completely survive."
"So, you've been fighting all this time, knowing that you can't die?"
Heero turned around to face Wufei, the source of the question. The Chinese pilot was staring at the Japanese, his stance slightly challenging. Heero glared at the other boy, refusing to back down. He answered with a simple, "Hai."
Quatre interjected with another question of his own. "Why didn't you tell us about this in the first place, Heero?"
Heero was silent for a moment, before he answered with a simple declaration. "You didn't need to know about it beforehand. It wasn't important to any of our missions."
"Shimatta."
Quatre and Trowa's heads turned as their dark lover's quiet declaration echoed through the room. Their stunned gazes switched back and forth between the two pilots, carefully watching their exchange.
"So you've been fighting in the war knowing that nothing can destroy you. Where is the honor in that? Wars are fought with the knowledge that the next battle could be your last. You dishonor all those you have fought against. Your advantage is unjust."
Heero said nothing in retaliation to Wufei's speech. His expression remained firmly fixed in its glare, his only reaction to Wufei's speech being the further narrowing of his eyes.
Hushed stillness came over the room, the five pilots at a standstill. Heero looked at each of the pilots in turn, his eyes taking in the quiet distrust that emanated from each. He felt an unusual pang of hurt that this little previously unknown characteristic of his was causing such a rift to open between him and the four others he had considered his friends. However, that pang was nothing compared to the ripping pain that tore through his heart at Duo's rejection. Of all of the pilots, he would have thought that his lover would have reacted differently, or at least with more understanding.
They needed to talk, that much was certain. And they needed to do it alone, without the others present. The words that needed to be said were private, no audience required.
Heero turned from the others and move resolutely towards his braided lover. "Duo, we need to talk."
Wufei wasn't sure about what happened next, the events were hazy in his mind. All he knew was that for some reason Heero had started forward, and that Duo was shying away from him with uncharacteristic fear.
Something in the Asian snapped, and the next thing he knew, he had Heero's discarded gun in his hand, the one Heero had placed on the coffee table, and a shot rang out.
Heero stood stunned for a moment as bright red blood welled up on his chest to mix with the dried, brown blood already staining his skin and clothing. His gaze fell inexorably on the Asian for a brief second before his form crumpled and fell to the floor.
Crimson liquid seeped from his body, staining the hardwood floor, congealing around his form in a small pool. The shot had been true, piercing right through his heart, killing him almost instantly. His eyes were wide and sightless, death clouding the dark blue depths. A small trickle of blood had seeped from his mouth before his heart had stopped, staining his already soiled face.
The others looked stunned at Heero's body and then turned to gaze at Wufei. Trowa and Duo just gaped, their voices temporarily lost to them. Quatre, even though he was suffering through the pain of his ribs, burst out at the Chinese.
"Wufei! Why did you do that?!"
Wufei held the gun in his hands limply, his own face shocked and stunned by his actions. He stammered out with, "I - I - I don't know! I just reacted!"
Duo looked quietly down at the body of his lover, his face emotionless for once. His gaze flicked over to Quatre who was still sitting on the sofa, even as he was yelling at Wufei, his wounded body making any sudden movements impossible.
His quiet voice cut through the others' argument, his words stunning them into silence. "I don't know why you're all making such a big fuss about this. It's not like he's going to stay dead. He'll come back to life, remember?"
Quatre and Trowa stared at Duo with horror and shock on their faces, disturbed at the braided man's lack of emotions. Wufei was lost in his own little world, still trying to understand why he had shot his fellow pilot. [3]
------
Wufei closed his eyes tightly as the memories came flooding back, as he relived that horrible day. Duo had been right. Heero had come back to life in less than half a day and he had been spitting mad.
As he had every right to be.
The rest of the day had been spent with the five pilots pretty much avoiding each other, distrust making it hard to recapture the closeness that had been a part of their lives before the doomed mission. However, the broken distrust between pilot 01 and pilots 03, 04, and 05 had been nothing next to the animosity emanating from pilot 02.
The two lovers had quarreled over Heero's immortality, ending in the abrupt halt of their relationship. Duo needed time to come to grips with his wavering faith and Heero's seeming unnaturalness. Perhaps that was why he had donned his cross, temporarily replacing the ring he had previously worn.
Yet, time was one thing that Heero had not given him.
Unfortunately, Heero had taken their brief words spoken in anger to heart, and had given them their hastily asked for requests. He had left them all, removing himself from their reality, disappearing for a year. Fleeing into the night quietly, but not before leaving them evidence of his own hurt, his own betrayal, and his own self disgust.
Only his flight had apparently ended in his death... at least that's what his deserted companions had been left to think, especially after the visit to the clinic and the so called remains that they had been presented with. Remains that had now been proven to be false.
His death had been the catalyst between the remaining pilots, resulting in their year long split from each other. The division could not have come at a worse time. The war had just been declared over and the soldiers previously essential for battles were now considered obsolete. Whatever comfort and companionship the Gundam pilots might have taken with each other was now out of reach; the possibilities gone due to pride, anger, hurt, and misunderstandings.
*Hn. Heero has been both the catalyst for our separation and for our reunion.* With that thought, Wufei let his mind wander along the previous events that had just occurred the night before.
------
[the night before]
Wufei and Quatre sat silently in the limo, the black metal melding into the night nicely. Rashid sat in the front seat, behind the wheel, ready to peel away in a fast retreat. Trowa was outside the vehicle, keeping an avid eye out for Duo. The braided man had insisted upon retrieving Heero alone.
Wufei stared covertly at the blond man sitting on a seat across from him in the spacious interior of the limo. The past year had been kind to his former lover, granting the previously shorter boy a slight advantage in height over him. However, Trowa still towered over the both of them, the European's lanky limbs having grown even longer in the past year despite the obvious lack of maintenance on the acrobat's part.
However, even if time had granted the blond even more physical advantages, his demeanor and attitude had drastically changed. While still friendly, to a point, the blond also spoke and acted with a thread of cynicism and hardness that hadn't been there a year ago. Inwardly wincing, Wufei wondered how much of that change was due to his leaving.
The quiet silence started to grate on the Asian's nerves. Even though he had been in self imposed solitude for the past year, the quiet had only been due to the lack of companions. He was not used to the blond being so quiet. Wufei missed the happy chatter that had been part of the boy he had once loved. Regret for what they had each lost blossomed anew in the Solitary Dragon's heart.
Determined to end the quiet, Wufei softly asked, "Did you know that Heero was in that... establishment?"
Quatre's head whipped around as his blue eyes widened. He shook his head in negation even as he spoke. "No, of course I didn't! If I had, I would have definitely gotten him out of there sooner! How can you even think I would -"
Wufei interrupted, his voice still quiet. "I didn't think you would. I just needed to hear it from your own lips."
Quatre's eyes lightened in understanding, his expression turning introspective. He glanced down at his hands which were clasped tightly together, the knuckles almost white. He bit his lip, stopping just before he drew blood, before raising his gaze to the man across from him.
Wufei became startled as Quatre's eyes recaptured his own, hidden hope and yearning emerging from azure depths, a silent entreaty. Wufei could feel his own expression softening, even as hope started to grow. Hope for the new chance that had been placed in front of them all.
However, before they could explore this further, the rear right door of the limo opened and Trowa slid into the limo. With a quiet, "Duo's back," he moved onto the farthest seat in, making room for their braided companion and his precious package.
The chestnut haired man slid into the limo, still cradling his burden close to his heart. Once seated, he reached with one arm to close the door, even as Quatre alerted Rashid to move out.
Once the limo started to swiftly move away from the brothel, the ex pilots finally relaxed, turning their attention to the cloaked figure in Duo's arms. The other three men turned expectant gazes on Duo, eager for the results of their impromptu rescue.
With a grin that faintly echoed the Duo of days gone by, the chestnut haired man nodded his head even as his hands tightened their grip on the person contained within his embrace. After a brief pause, he reached up with one hand and swept the cloak's hood away from the prone figure's face.
The other three men let their breath out as the familiar visage of the Japanese pilot's face came into view. They briefly noted the fact that the boy's face had not changed one iota in the entire year since they had last seen him.
The continually unruly mop of dark brown hair flopped attractively around Heero's slightly flushed face, framing his beautiful eyes. Prussian blue orbs gazed listlessly at the three men before once more returning to settle on the man holding him.
Wufei glanced sharply at Duo, hissing one word. "Drugged?"
Duo nodded his head even as he answered verbally. "Hai."
"How long will it last?" Quatre queried.
Duo shook his head as he said, "I don't know. The man who was selling him said that the drug would last until midnight and then he'll probably fall asleep."
The others nodded in understanding and then lapsed back into silence. Wufei paused for one moment before asking Duo, "Do you want to put him down on the seat? I'll move over next to Quatre if you do."
Duo shook his head vehemently. "I'm not letting him go until we get to the house. And even then I'm not sure I will. Besides, the drug seems to affect his body's reactions. Heero seems to be content enough in my arms. And that's where he's going to stay."
Duo's amethyst eyes pierced the other three men, as if daring them to argue. However, none of them did, each understanding Duo's determination in their own way.
Heero's head leaned against Duo's chest, his gaze staying somewhat fixated on the necklace that had worked its way free from Duo's shirt. His listless gaze focused in on the dual rings that hung from the silver chain, a slight gurgle making its way from his throat.
Duo glanced down in surprise, following Heero's clouded line of vision. Relief spread through his heart, even as his soul began to soar with hope. He briefly bent his head, placing a light kiss on Heero's forehead.
He whispered, quietly enough for the words to only reach Heero's ears. "Hai, koibito. I kept them. Of course I kept them."
Pressing another kiss to Heero's forehead, Duo leaned back in the seat, fervently wishing for this ride back to Quatre's estate to end. For the first time, he noted the level of tension that seemed to pervade the atmosphere of the rest of the car.
Comfortable now that the missing part of his universe was back in his life, Duo reverted once more to the sense of humor that he had relied upon so much in the past.
"You know, Quatre, it's a good thing that I did use your account for tonight."
Quatre raised one eyebrow in question, his interest pricked. "And why would that be, Duo?"
"Since no other aristocrat that I know of would have as much money in their accounts as I used tonight."
Wufei smirked and asked the inevitable question. "And just how much money did you spend tonight, Maxwell?"
"Oh, a piddling amount. A mere 5 million, 136 thousand, 453 dollars and 21 cents." [4]
Quatre and Wufei choked for a brief moment, their jaws dropping for a brief moment. Duo looked at them with a disgruntled expression.
"Nani? You didn't think it would go that high?"
His response came from a startling source. Trowa lightly chuckled under his breath, drawing the other's attention to him. Trowa shook his head a few times before he said, "That would be our Heero. Nothing less would do."
------
Wufei opened his eyes as he felt the rays of the sun on his skin. As the sun continued to climb into the sky, the hours of the morning passing quickly, Wufei mused on what had happened.
The ride back to Quatre's had been uneventful, their hasty mission a complete success. Upon arrival, Duo had left for his old bedroom that he had shared with Heero, leaving no doubt to the fact that he wanted to be alone with the Japanese ex pilot. He wanted to be the first and only person with Heero once the other awakened from his drug induced stupor.
As selfish as it was, it was understandable. There would be plenty of time later for questions to be answered, for the events of the past year to be revealed. For now, Duo needed some privacy with his lover to talk over the problems of the past and to hopefully reforge the binds between them. Only then could the healing be completed and reunite the two souls that belonged together.
And hopefully, next would progress the healing between the other ex pilots.
Wufei turned to the mansion, his eyes irrevocably settling upon the window of Duo and Heero's old room. *Good luck, Maxwell. When Heero awakes, I hope that the two of you can reconcile your differences.*
A sudden footfall alerted Wufei to the fact that he was no longer alone. He turned to the entrance of the gazebo, to see Quatre standing there. The blond was nervous, almost as if he wasn't sure that he should intrude. Wufei nodded once and then turned back to gaze at the sunrise.
A bit relieved, Quatre entered the white gazebo, coming to a halt at Wufei's side. The slightly taller Arabian joined the Asian in his quiet introspection of nature, the two sharing a companionable silence.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Wufei nodded his head once, grunting his agreement.
"It's the dawn of a new day. And with it, comes new hope."
Wufei turned to gaze at the other man, his expression curious and open.
Quatre turned to Wufei and looked into the darker eyes. "We need to talk."
"Hai. We do."
TBC...
[1] think this is an odd statement about finding another face?? hint: reference Takahashi's Mermaid's Mask ^_~ I'm just 'borrowing' another idea from the manga... ^_~
[2] a gundam no prize to anyone who can tell which line belongs to which pilot. ^_^ I think I made them obvious enough to guess at... at least I think I did...
[3] remember Wufei's letter in Chapter 2 when Heero wrote, "And if we meet in the future, try not to shoot me again."?? Well, this was why he wrote this, if anyone was curious about that line in the letter... ^_^;;
[4] hee hee, get it? 136 (13x6) - 453 (4x5x3) - 21 (2x1) ^_~ oh, blame it on the time I wrote this part... 5:34 am in the morning... @_@
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