26-Apr-2000
This could be the last chapter (you'll probably understand when you read the chapter), or the saga could continue. I'm not sure if I should wrap here. What do you all think?
"Oooh! Beer!" Duo pointed towards the old, though well maintained tavern.
"Keep your mind on the task at hand, Duo," Wufei admonished, grumpily. Why on earth had they decided to split into pairs to search the town, and why the hell did he get paired up with the braided maniac?!
"Wufei. We've spoken to almost everybody in the town and no one has -seen- a boy about so high who only has one green eye."
"We still have a few more houses to cover, and the town clinic."
"And the tavern," Duo pointed out hopefully, then glanced up as two familiar figures exited the general merchandise store and approached them. "Nothing?"
"Nothing," Quatre confirmed tersely.
"Shall we cool down with a ice-cold mug of beer before continuing our inquiry?" Duo asked with the cheerfulness of an eternal optimist.
Heero gave him The Look, but nodded in agreement, much to Duo's surprise. Duo, however, wasn't the sort to question and nitpick small mercies, so he took charge of the situation by leading the way into the tavern.
Then the American pilot stopped, blinking in surprise as he caught sight of the little girl behind the bar. "Aren't you a bit too short to be doing this kind of thing?" Indeed, the top of her head barely showed over the counter.
She dimpled a smile at him. "I'm just watching the place. I'll go get papa now. Papa!" she ran off through a door that probably led to some kind of back room. "Papa! Lots of people here."
"Alright Katya. Watch him for a bit while I see what they want," the bartender's weary voice carried just slightly. The greying man emerged from the backroom, wiping his hands on a towel. "What can I get for you?" he smiled warmly despite his obvious exhaustion. "Beer for everyone?"
"Yup!"
"Water." That was Heero.
"Water." That was Wufei.
"Water." And that was Quatre.
Duo looked at them askance. "Four beers. I'll drink their share," he flashed his crooked grin at the bartender, winning a tired though whole-hearted response as the man started to fill four ice-cold mugs to the brim with frothing beer.
"Papa!" Katya shrieked from the room. "Papa! He's going crazy again! Papa!"
The man did not even waste the time muttering an apology. He dropped the mug, and Duo barely managed to lean over the counter in time to catch it before it hit the ground. "Um, thanks," the braided pilot chuckled softly.
Wufei looked just slightly curious at the commotion. Heero and Quatre scarcely seemed to register it. They glared at Duo, wishing he would hurry.
Then they heard the voice they knew so well... Hoarse, raw with despair and panic. "No! Let me go! No... oh God... NO!!!!"
Quatre shot out of his seat, leapt over the counter and was at the door of the backroom in a fraction of a heartbeat. His wide blue eyes froze that single instant of recognition forever in his mind.
Trowa.
His skin so very pale, the brilliant green eyes standing out more starkly than ever before. Bright with fever, glazed with pain, unfocused... seeing, not understanding...
Then the gun was in his hand... how did it get there... perhaps it did not matter... Quatre aimed the weapon directly at Trowa's heart... It would be a clean shot, a quick and easy death... a traitor shouldn't have it so easy...
His finger tightened on the trigger...
A slender hand closed over his, yanking the gun sharply away. Quatre spun around on instinct, driving his fist into the body of the one who had dared interfere.
Duo gasped, doubling over as Quatre's fist connected with his stomach, yet resolutely held the confiscated weapon away from the Arabian. Then Heero was there, standing protectively beside Duo as the American struggled to recover his breath. "Nuh uh. Not gonna let you do it, Quatre," Duo huffed, managing to look cutely annoyed. "I did not spend five freaking hours out in the burning sun looking for him just so you could blow a hole through his chest."
The bartender, who had been trying to hold down a frantically tossing Trowa, quickly pulled his daughter close to him, trying to protect her. "What's going on?!"
"This is our missing friend," Wufei explained simply. "We've been looking for him for a very long time."
"Friend?!" the man echoed incredulously. "I haven't spent hours looking after him, hoping he'd pull through his fever, only to have you put a bullet in his heart."
"See, Quatre? I'm not the only one who feels that way," Duo chirped, but subsided meekly when he received a dark glare from Heero.
"Can you tell us what happened; how he arrived here?" Wufei asked, once again the calm voice of reason.
The man started to explain, but Quatre was no longer listening... The man's soothing baritone dropped to a low hum as the young Arabian pilot approached the bed, walking as though in a dream, as though he expected to wake at any time. Dimly, he was aware of Heero walking alongside him, ready to restrain him if he did anything wrong...
But what could be wrong about killing the one who had betrayed them all... ?
Like a dream... each step bringing him closer...
The green eyes locked on him as he drew closer... brilliant emerald green, heated eyes, burning into him without the faintest glimmer of recognition...
Trowa never moved... like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Frozen, captivated and entranced by something only he seemed to see.
Then finally the pale lips moved, breathing soundless words, and a trembling hand reached out tentatively towards Quatre's face. A gentle caress upon his cheek. So hesitant, as if Trowa had almost expected the vision to be a mirage.
"You've forgiven me... " the desperately sick boy breathed the words again quietly. "Come for me... " Then a smile, so weak, yet so radiant. "I knew you would... always knew... I waited for you."
And something about that sweetly welcoming smile began to thaw the shard of ice lodged in Quatre's heart.
"Take me home... "
The facade of ice melted, warmth returning the Quatre's heart and mind. He reached out, just as slowly to take his lover back into his arms. So thin, he thought to himself as he gently stroked Trowa's back. Trowa had lost so much weight over the past few weeks - terrible for someone who was already too slender to begin with. His body so very weak and frail...
"I didn't know... always thought... "
Trowa's voice trailed off weakly.
"Always thought what, Trowa?" Quatre asked softly, all comfort now. Whatever Trowa did, it no longer really mattered. It could be explained. It would be forgiven.
Forgiveness was the heart of friendship, the soul of love...
"Always thought..." the voice faltered briefly... "Always thought angels wore white... "
His angel had come for him to take him home...
The slender body fell back limply in Quatre's arms, consciousness and life beginning to tear away from Trowa's exhausted, broken mortal shell...
End Part 6
(:./danyale/true6)
