Author: Karen, The Huntress
Rating: R
Warning: AU, angst, violence, language, villainous Zechs
Pairing: 1+2+3+4+5, 3x4, eventual 1x2
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Archive: DHML Archive
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters.
Reclamation Part 1
As colonies goes Lagrange 2 was the bastard stepchild. The poorest of the five artificial environments suspended in space, it was considered my most people to float on the edge of nowhere. The residents had long ago been forgotten by their sister settlements and the Earth gave little or no thought as to their impoverished condition.
L2's atmosphere was shot to hell. Water, food, all the basic necessaries were in short supply. The cities were falling apart and the outer regions known as the Outlands were worse. Because of this poverty and the hopelessness it spawned the populace was ripe for revolution.
Unfortunately most of the rebel groups that formed to fight for their homeland were unorganized and ill equipped. They quickly splintered into street gangs each interested in protecting their own city section. With this lack of cooperation and territorial separation, the quest for freedom and a better way of life deteriorated into catastrophic devastation leaving the average citizen worse off than before.
Finally the upheaval and violence came to the attention of the Colony Alliance. The ruling branch of the United Colonial Government had, in much the same way, been fractured by its own infighting on how to handle the volatile situation on L2.
After many debates the Senators decided the best way to put the troublesome satellite state back in its proper place was to send in the Tactical Forces Unit known as OZ.
These elite soldiers, specially trained to restore order by any means necessary, descended on the defenseless colony with well-armed troops and mock human fighting machines called Mobile Suits.
Squads of soldiers patrolled the streets keeping the citizenry in line by forceful intimidation. Marshal Law was declared, a curfew imposed and everyone put on notice that any unlawful behavior would be dealt with swiftly and without mercy.
Even under the threat of imprisonment or death there were still a few of the originally established freedom fighters groups that had maintained their focus and determination. These were committed to a united goal that one day L2 would become an independent colony free from Earth's tyrannical oppression and the Alliance's greed and thirst for power.
One such band of about thirty individuals had escaped the city as the first wave of OZ took over. They retreated to the Outlands setting up a series of small camps called Clusters scattered throughout the remote border fringes. From their concealment among the countryside's tattered ruins they conducted hit and raids on OZ as well as the local authorities whom they viewed as treasonous sympathizers.
The leaders of the largest Cluster were two half-brothers, Chang Wufei, age eighteen and Heero Yuy, age sixteen. The brothers shared the same mother but different Asian fathers, but neither man had bothered to stick around very long after the boy's birth.
Their mother had done the best she could under her abandoned circumstances. Earning a meager wage, she worked for a local businessman who treated her a little better than a slave.
Wufei and Heero suspected that sexual favors were part of their mother's job description but she denied it each time they had questioned her. Still there was a noticeable emptiness in her eyes that told her sons something was not right.
The boys tried to help supplement the low wages but jobs were scarce. They did what they could, even stealing when they had to, anything to put food on the table and keep a roof, as poor as it was, over their heads.
Despite the brothers' efforts the stressful conditions soon took their toll. Their mother turned to drinking and drugs to ease her physical and mental pain falling deeper into a substance-induced despair until she became a mere shell of herself.
Then last year after a downward spiraling illness she died leaving behind a pair of orphaned bastard street rats, so when a close friend invited Heero and Wufei to the main Cluster's secret meeting they wasted no time becoming involved.
They both displayed natural leadership abilities and soon rose through the ranks to head up one of the most active groups. Their reputation for tactical knowledge, street fighting and lethal raids put them at the top of the Alliance's terrorist list. But the brothers, even at their young ages, were hardened soldiers in their own right and a deadly match for any troops, OZ or otherwise.
*********
Dark clouds banked to the west. The approaching storm rolled in on whipping winds that rattled the vacant warehouse's tin roof. The building, divided into a suite of rooms, was now home to Chang Wufei, Heero Yuy and a dozen of their most trusted comrades. Also sharing their humble abode were two boyhood friends, Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton.
Trowa and Quatre had come to love each other and decided to become a couple, however, their relationship was not well received by their families. Quatre was from a wealthy influential family, which had been among the original settlers on L2. Winner had every advantage from private education to social status.
Trowa Barton was from a modest, working-class household. Although his father earned an honest living, his salary was well below the Winner's fortune that had been rumored to have been amassed by questionable business practices.
When Quatre's father learned of his son's interest in that second-class Barton boy he strictly forbade him to see Trowa. Quatre ignored his demands and continued to sneak out to be with his lover until his father began to issue threats and promising he would see to it that Trowa's family was ruined.
Being of age, as Quatre and Trowa were eighteen, they put their love for each other before their families and ran away together.
They lived on the streets doing what they could to survive. Trowa felt guilty that he'd taken his sheltered partner from his comfortable surroundings, even going so far as to beg him to return home. But Quatre staunchly refused stating that his place was now with Trowa and that he had nothing to return to.
When they began to hear rumors about Wufei and Heero's position as the main Cluster leaders, Trowa and Quatre contacted their friends asking if they could join up with the rebel fighters.
At first Wufei hesitated, knowing the danger his friends would be in if they became part of the terrorist band. Trowa countered with the logic that it was far more dangerous on the streets.
"At least we'll be with friends we trust and have the protection of the Cluster." Trowa declared wanting to give Quatre a stable situation even if it was with an outlaw faction.
After serious consideration Wufei and Heero agreed to take in the homeless wanders. Although it wouldn't be exactly like their earlier years it would be good having everyone together again, after all nothing stays the same.
Quatre had quickly proven to be a great help using his higher education to plan out precise strategic operations. Trowa employed his natural agility and daring attitude to breach the security of anything OZ put in his way. There was not a barrier that he could not climb over or get through and his skill on a motorcycle was second to none.
*********
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Wind blew with greater force causing a gnarled oak's overhead branches to shiver under the stormy assault. Wufei leaned his lanky frame against the trunk staring into the angry clouds with a boldness borne from a hellish childhood and reinforced by his hardened approach towards life.
Using his hand to shield the match flame, he lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply he relaxed letting a steady stream of bluish smoke drift from his nostrils.
Narrowing his ebony eyes Wufei studied the fitful disturbance, "Damn." he swore watching the horizon grow darker by the minute.
The wrathful weather was going to put a bombing raid planned for later that night on hold. A thin-lipped smile flickered across Wufei's lips, "Those OZ sons of bitches will get a pardon, at least for tonight." he stated taking another long draw.
"It's going to get rough." a voice declared, raising in pitch to out-shout the howling wind. Heero stepped beside his brother for his own survey of the thunderstorm.
Wufei nodded, "It's just as well." he replied flicking tiny embers into the squalling gale, "After the injuries we sustained during the last foray we'd be short-handed anyway. No, better to wait until we're whole again then we can do more damage." he grinned at the prospect of another fruitful sabotage.
Heero reach around his brother's shoulder and snatched the cigarette dangling from Wufei's lips. There was only enough length left for one good drag.
He wrinkled his nose as the bitter smoke burned in his throat. "How can you smoke these horrid things?" he wondered crushing the spent butt under his boot.
Wufei shrugged in a noncommittal manner. "You do the best you can with what you have."
"You don't need these damn things anyway." Heero began, once again mounting his "get Wufei to stop smoking" campaign.
"I'll be sure to put your protest on my things to consider list." Wufei promised as he watched zigzag fingers of lightning claw across the heavens. "How's Quatre?"
"He finally quieted down."
"I'm still not sure we made the right decision." Wufei said pushing off the trunk, "Winner is not a soldier."
Heero sighed, "I know but where else did he and Trowa have to go? You know Cat wouldn't have lasted long on the streets. Besides he won't leave Trowa and as long as they are together he can't go home."
The weeping sky flared again followed by a clamorous crack of thunder. "He does know his stuff when it comes to figuring the best line of attack," Heero praised, "but between him fretting every time Trowa goes on a mission and those horrid nightmares that won't let him sleep through the night I fear for his health. Still we can't afford to leave Trowa behind he's too valuable as an infiltrator."
"We ought to know by now that nothing in this conflict makes sense. All we can do it keep hacking away at OZ and hope if we cut off enough parts that eventually the whole body will die." Wufei reasoned as cold raindrops pelted the tree limbs. "Come on let's get inside."
*********
Trowa stretched out on one of six lumpy mattresses lying haphazardly about the floor. With long arms wrapped in a protective embrace he cradled his koi's back against his chest.
Some twenty minutes earlier another night terror had gripped Quatre waking him with a start. Hyperventilation and cold sweat had become a routine part of his restless slumber and the unsettling incidents were occurring more frequently.
The dark dreaming, it seemed, could only be kept at bay by Trowa's touch so each night he would hold his precious partner until he fell asleep. If he was lucky Quatre would sleep three or four hours before being jarred awake by elusive memories and the attending fear that plagued each night's rest.
This disjointed pattern of sleep left many marks on Quatre's features. Dark purple circles shadowed under azure eyes that had lost most of their sparkle. He was paler and Trowa could feel every rib under his hand flattened around his lover's slim waist.
Much like Wufei, Trowa had become concerned for Cat's well being. Again a keen case of guilt lay heavily on his mind and heart. That remorse was why Trowa kept fighting, kept chiseling away at the enemy hoping that one day he would undermine the foundation and the entire structure would crumble and fall.
A boom of thunder quivered through the building's cold concrete. The resounding echoes rattled loose windowpanes allowing the storm's chilly currents free reign.
Quatre flinched under the thunderous assault. "No." he whimpered drawing his knees to his chest.
Trowa pushed back blond hair tangled in long eyelashes. "Shhhh." he whispered, "I'm here. Nothing will harm you." he assured tucking a thin blanket over Quatre's thin frame.
On the room's opposite side, Wufei flopped down on a dingy mattress. Tugging the tie from his shoulder length ponytail, he raked through the black mane being careful not to tangle his fingers in the two gold hoops that adorned his left earlobe. As every night, he placed his pistol beside the humble bed. His sword, the only thing his father had left him, lay within arm's reach.
Heero sat on his own rude bed and draped a worn blanket around his shoulders. A single kerosene lamp illuminated the space but the dim flame provided enough light to clearly see Quatre's ashen features.
Trowa doesn't look much better. Heero thought observing the entwined pair adrift in that twilight between phantom dreamscapes and reality.
With a sigh Heero pulled off his scuffed high-top combat boots, slid his pistol under the mattress and switched off the light. Laying down he tugged the flimsy covering tight against the invading chill.
As the storm drifted into the distance there were no other sounds except the ghosts of whining wind and rumbling thunder. Intermittent lightning flashed momentarily brightening the grimy window glass then disappeared as swiftly as it came.
The rebel brothers settled in for the night knowing that other Cluster members were on patrol outside. However an easy rest would elude everyone that called the Outlands home.
The banished rebels knew they would remain in exile until the last remnant of oppression was dissolved but, in the same way a rainstorm washes away the city's filth, the dedicated Cluster would not rest until their home colony was cleansed by the renewing tide of freedom.
TBC...
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