Hidden Part 3
It was hard to tune out Quatre's conversation, but Trowa had known from the moment Quatre had uttered the word 'darling', that it wasn't one he should let himself hear. He firmly squashed the faint feeling of jealousy and reminded himself of his duty.
So he focused on the view out the window, trying to estimate how long it would be before they got out of the city and safely to Quatre's home.
Why hadn't the man just stayed home where it was safe?
Wait a moment... that car behind them... it had been there for a bit- hadn't it?
And on the side... a weird glint- as if someone or something was hanging out the window... just a bit...
He leaned over and murmured to Rashid. "Car behind us- what do you think?"
Rashid looked in the rear view mirror- and then over his shoulder. "Possible."
"I'll call you later," he heard Quatre say. Good. Off the phone at last. He looked over his shoulder. "Get down," he said quietly.
"The windows are bulletproof." Quatre retorted.
"They might not have bullets," Rashid pointed out. "That thing on the side might be some sort of launcher."
"We'd better be ready." Trowa reached under his jacket and removed the gun he'd put in the pocket there. Rashid's low whistle made him crack a small smile. "I'm not too fond of the standard issue," he said softly and Rashid chuckled.
He looked in the backseat again. Quatre had not gotten down. He was checking over his own weapon- had that been under the seat? Or in his briefcase?
"Get down," Trowa said again and Quatre rolled his eyes.
"They aren't going to start anything here- they'll wait until we're off the freeway. It's a bad road up to the house- I would bet they are going to try to force us off the road there."
"I'm calling ahead," Rashid said, touching the headset in his ear. "I'll get some of us on that road- and have them alert the Preventers."
Trowa nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt. In a quick motion, he pushed himself up and over the seat, landing neatly beside Quatre. "Get down," he said again, in his pleasantest tone. "Or I will sit on you."
"I think you've forgotten that I'm a pilot- just like you." Quatre returned in a similar tone.
"No," Trowa said. "You are Quatre Winner, head of WEI, multi-millionaire, heavily involved in the politics of the Earth Sphere- and a former gundam pilot." He reached out and neatly pushed Quatre down below the level of the windows. "I, on the other hand, am a part-time Preventer, circus clown and a former pilot. Not just like you. I'm expendable- you aren't. Which is why Une sent me to keep you safe. So please- stay down and try not to attempt to give them a good place to aim whatever it is they have?"
Quatre frowned at him, but didn't sit back up. "Once we aren't in this sort of situation, you and I are going to have a talk."
"Getting off the freeway," Rashid interrupted quietly. The light outside the car changed and Rashid sped up a little.
"Keeping pace," Trowa noted. He saw the movement on the right side and braced himself.
"Launcher," Rashid spun the wheel as Quatre reached up and yanked Trowa down on top of him.
"Even expendable body guards shouldn't leave themselves in the firing line," Quatre hissed.
Something impacted the left side of the car, shattering the back window and nearly sending them into a spin. Rashid hunched down and slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
"Damn it." Trowa swore softly and shook the glass off of himself. "Status?" He asked Quatre.
"Better than you," Quatre brushed his fingers over Trowa's cheek. "You're bleeding."
"Minor." Trowa sat up and took aim out the back window. He heard Quatre curse beneath him, but he had other things to worry about. If he could get one of the tires...
It took a few shots, but the car behind them finally seemed to spin a little out of control, and just as Rashid made the turn onto Quatre's road, it slid off the road and right into a stand of trees.
But even as it did- the launcher hanging out the side window spat at them again. Trowa reached backward and pushed Rashid down, even as the projectile spun right at him.
"Trowa!" Quatre reached up to pull him down again, but he didn't quite manage to make it out of the way. Something hit his shoulder, spinning him backwards and flinging him into the back of the front seats. His head hit something hard and his vision exploded into stars.
He must've lost a minute or two, because suddenly the car was stopped- and he could hear lots of voices.
"Ow," he managed and tried to blink things back into focus.
"Trowa?" Quatre was leaning over him, his face pale. "Trowa? Can you hear me?"
"Safe- you're not safe- they're-"
"I'm fine. The Magunacs are here- they surrounded the car. Police and Preventers are on their way."
"Good," his vision refused to steady itself, in fact it was getting even darker on the edges. "That's good." He could still see Quatre, who was looking very worried.
"The medics are on their way too- stay with me." He could feel the pressure on his shoulder- Quatre must be responsible for that- he tried to turn his head to see, but that just hurt. Quatre noticed and snapped out: "Focus on me, Barton."
That would be an easy thing to do- if only his vision would cooperate. It must be bad- he couldn't feel a damn thing- and they always said it was the ones you didn't feel that were the fatal ones.
Still- it wasn't too bad. Dying with Quatre beside him? Heaven really... if Trowa could believe in such a place. Maybe it was here, in these last moments...
No need to hide anything now...
Quatre's eyes widened and his hands tightened on Trowa's shoulder. Trowa watched as his lips moved and wondered what Quatre was saying. He wished he could hear it.
Darkness spiraled over his vision and blocked Quatre from his sight at last.
No, he thought again as his consciousness faded. Not a bad way to die at all...
TBC...
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