04-Aug-2000
Legal stuff: None of these characters are mine. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency, among others--Xenogears belongs to Squaresoft. For time-wasting purposes only and not for profit, so don't sue, 'kay?
Warnings: slight AU, X-over, shonen-ai, language, violence. All the good stuff! *grin*
(4 days later, L4 Colony)
{{Quiet. It's so quiet... no screams, no laughter... just occasional whispers. In the midst of the quiet... I can hear their murmurs. They whisper pain, loneliness, anger, anguish... occasionally comfort, a wisp of love. I whisper back, sometimes. I know them, they have dreamed with me forever... long, nameless dreams and memories.
Dreams without names, without number... that stain our hearts, and bind them together... }}
It hurt.
That single fact seemed to encompass everything, and occupy every sense that reawakened. Everything seemed to be composed of blurry shifting shades of pain--and it preoccupied him to the point that he wondered if *he* was even still there, somewhere in the midst of that pain. There was no sense of time, or self, allowed in this place--only his screaming nerve endings resided there.
Gradually, however, that place receded--pushed away in part by a blessed, cottony numbness that spread through him. And as the pain faded, overcome by wakefulness, Quatre came to a new realization even as he opened his eyes.
The pain wasn't just his.
He blinked muzzily at the ceiling, trying to think. His chest throbbed, a medicated and distant ache; but the other pain came from somewhere less physical... from his uchuu no kokoro. He licked dry lips with an equally dry tongue, frowning. A small cup of water appeared, cradled in a familiar pair of long-fingered hands; those same hands lifted his head slightly so he could drink. A lean, beloved face came into his field of vision, bangs hanging long over one eye and the lean body clothed in a nurse's scrubs. His voice was raspy and harsh from disuse--it took two tries to get the name out.
"Tr--Trowa?"
A quiet nod. Trowa's mellow tenor was calm and comforting. "How are you feeling?"
Quatre held still for a moment, assessing himself. "Groggy. Hurt." His brows came together in confusion as he stared at the other boy. "Why're you... a nurse?"
Trowa shrugged one shoulder minimally. "It was the only way I could stay with you." He seemed completely at home in the unfamiliar medical garb. "Do you need something for the pain?"
Quatre shook his head slightly, limp gold hair tangled across the pillow. "No... " He raised his hand and lightly touched his upper chest, above the bandages, knowing Trowa would understand. He tried to stem his growing panic. "This... hurts. Who... ?"
His lover sighed quietly, and settled back down into the chair beside the bed. He made no effort to avoid the teal-blue gaze that demanded answers. " ...Duo. He and Heero were attacked as well."
Quatre drew in a raspy breath. Trowa was telling the truth--as he grew more alert, he could feel the resonances of Duo's pain. "How? Will he--they be all right?" His shoulders slumped in relief as Trowa nodded slightly.
"The doctors think so--though it was a very close thing. Almost as bad as yours. He and Heero were attacked by a mob on their way back to Preventer headquarters. Duo ended up taking a knife in the throat trying to protect Heero. Removing it was tricky--it had lodged near his spine. As it was, it damaged his trachea and esophagus fairly extensively. He won't be talking any time soon."
Quatre smiled as the knot in his gut began to unravel in relief. He gave Trowa a pale smile. "Poor Duo."
"Aa." Trowa agreed quietly. "He's in the next room. They had to medevac him from Earth when radicals tried to firebomb the hospital room he was in. We thought it best if both of you recovered at your family's hospital on L4. Better security that way." Not to mention minimizing the collateral damage--Heero had ruthlessly neutralized the earlier attackers. Two were crippled for life. He wisely kept that knowledge to himself.
Quatre's lids drooped consideringly. "Oh... so that's why... " He opened his eyes again with an effort of will. "The one... who shot me?" Trowa adjusted the blanket, tucking Quatre's cold fingers underneath carefully.
"He's dead." Trowa met Quatre's blue gaze with equanimity. "He'd punctured your lung, and the bullet went through one of the lower ventricles of your heart--if you weren't as resilient as the rest of us, you probably would have died." Quatre's gaze softened at the words Trowa had left unsaid.
"I'm sorry I made you worry."
"Don't be--it isn't your fault." Trowa settled back, the rigid hospital chair squeaking slightly in protest. "Anyway, you're safe here."
"For now," Quatre agreed. Even aching and muzzy from the anesthetic, he couldn't help analyzing the situation. It didn't look good. "But even L4 won't be safe if this continues... " He plucked worriedly at the sheets. In contrast, Trowa was unperturbed.
"Perhaps. But it will be safe long enough for both you and Duo to regain your strength. Then we can figure out what needs to be done." His normally expressionless face hardened slightly--then relaxed. "Don't worry about it now, Quatre--the best thing you can do anyway is rest and heal. Let the three of us handle things for a few days."
Quatre sighed gently, feeling his lung catch painfully as he did so. He desperately wanted to argue--but Trowa's statement was irrefutable. "It doesn't look like I have a choice."
Trowa nodded in agreement, serenely implacable. "No. You don't."
{{... .my mind is divided--broken cleanly in two like a lightning-struck pine. Part of me ticks away, counting the endless, relentless cycles, monitoring frozen reflexes... it computes calculations for food and fuel and life even as it realizes the pointlessness of its activity... It follows the rutted path of analysis with the dogged persistence of habit...
... the other 'me' dreams, bound and quiet. Dreaming of blood, of fire, of peace, of endless endless cold. I dream of a quiet despair, a murmuring of my name in the darkness...
And of a memory--a half-remembered tale of a crippled goat, burdened by sin and driven into the emptiness to die... }}
Heero's voice was emotionless, yet accusatory.
"So you're saying we have no choice about this."
Lady Une, Commander in Chief of the Preventers, looked wearily at the small group before her. Seated around the table at one of L4's many Winner residences, the five young men watched her with a wariness born of experience.
They looked so *young*, and in some cases, so fragile--Quatre was still heartbreakingly pale, and coughed occasionally when he spoke. The others were more resolute, the darkness of their eyes proving that her words were not unexpected. Only the bandages that peeked from underneath Duo's shirt and his enforced silence belied his show of strength; less obvious clues betrayed the others' feelings. It showed in a quiet stiffening of the shoulders, and a tenseness in their muscles--even stoic Heero and quiet Trowa were feeling the pain of this final, cruelly harsh rejection.
She sighed--rubbing her forehead and wishing desperately that she had more time to give them; to adjust, to heal. But their time was rapidly running out. "I'm afraid so, Heero." She looked up and met their eyes levelly; it was the least she could do. "The United Earth Alliance Council is almost unanimous in its condemnation of your activities during the war. Your only defenders are Relena and a few other supporters--the Noventas, among others. Unfortunately, their voices are almost lost in the shouts raised against you; with the election year coming to a head, every politician from Earth to L3 is scrambling to be heard on the issue... and most of them are siding with the opinions of the majority."
Wufei grimaced. "Opinions that will end up with us locked away like lab rats."
Lady Une nodded ruefully. "I'm afraid so. That damned journalist--ever since he hacked his way into the colonies' old war databanks and broadcast the information over the media, there has been very little rational response from anyone. The public is hysterical with fear--and I'm afraid there's very little I or anyone else can do to alleviate it at this point. I've already had demands from my superiors to have Duo, Heero, and Wufei 'resign' from the Preventers, to prevent public embarrassment if--when this goes to trial."
"Is this how you intend to 'deal' with us, then?" Heero asked, eyes narrowed--only to be smacked on the back of the head by Duo. The braided pilot met his cold glare with a silently reprimanding stare of his own, refusing to back down.
"No. I don't throw my people to the wolves." Lady Une's voice was frosty--Trowa was uneasily reminded of old memories involving *Colonel* Une of the OZ Specials. She gave Duo a tiny smile, though, and softened her tone as she tucked her long brown hair behind one ear. "They *have* been pressuring me... but they cannot force me to get rid of three exemplary officers who have no existing criminal records." She held up an admonishing finger. "Yet."
She looked back down at the scattered plans before her. Plans that had consumed every spare moment and bit of energy for four long months. The blue schematics and calculations were unchanging, unsparing in their truth--she had looked at them for so long that they must be etched upon her retinas by now. "But the hysteria and the pressure will only get worse unless we can get all of you out of the public eye, and swiftly--at least for a time. That's why I'm proposing this expedition out to the new L6 colony. It's further out than any colony to date, and only three-fourths completed. I've commandeered the shuttle that was being readied for for the first colonists; it's being refitted for the five of you instead."
Quatre protested quietly, " ...but--five years?" His gaze involuntarily flicked over the Winner Enterprises boardroom, with its walnut panels and elegant family photos.
"I know it's a long time, Quatre--but there is no other way. It'll take at least a year just to reach the colony; you'll all have to be put into cryosleep, to save on fuel and food supplies. Once you reach there, the next supply shuttle won't be for another few years. However, since the colony is so isolated, there is no way for the staff already there to know who you are. As far as they or anyone else will know, you five are simply new engineers and technicians to aid in the construction. Meanwhile, the official story will be that you are under 'protective custody'. The public will think you've been imprisoned; the media will gripe, but ultimately have to be satisfied with a few stolen photos of some body-doubles behind bars. That will give us time to settle things down here in the Alliance." Une's gaze hardened and turned inward. "Or, failing that, to arrange for your supposed 'deaths' and create new identities to live under. This won't be forever--I promise. It'll be for just long enough to keep you safe without any further bloodshed. And after a few years, all of you can come back without the fear of a lynch mob greeting you at the gate."
Heero nodded quietly, but Quatre still looked disturbed.
"But--I have responsibilities here," he argued. "I can't just abandon Winner Enterprises and my family."
"You're not abandoning them," Lady Une pointed out. "I'm sure that you have competent executives who can take care of business for the time while you're gone--or even some of your sisters. Right now, the best thing you could do for them is lie low for a while."
"She's right," Trowa agreed quietly. He squeezed Quatre's hand reassuringly under the table as Quatre turned to stare at him, hurt. "Think, Quatre. Won't it relieve the pressure the Winner Enterprises has been under if you aren't as visible any more?"
Quatre opened his mouth to protest--then closed his eyes. It hurt, that recognition that the naysayers were right. But the truth of the statement could not be denied; it was for the best.
" ...yes. I guess you're right." He looked up at Lady Une with a painfully resolute gaze. "I suppose I should start making arrangements?"
She nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Quatre." Her carefully neutral gaze swept over the rest of the ex-pilots. "Do the rest of you agree as well?"
Trowa gave a minimal shrug. "If Quatre goes, so do I." Quatre's heart warmed at the rarely-voiced show of support from his lover. He gave Trowa a tiny smile as the quiet, purely emotional ache of rejection and fear eased slightly.
Wufei scowled. "This whole situation has occurred for all the wrong reasons--" he leveled a stare at Une. "--except for yours. You are genuinely trying to protect us, and as much as I dislike the situation, the matter stands. I certainly haven't been able to come up with a better solution, so--yes. I will go." Lady Une inclined her head in acknowledgement, humbled by his trust.
Heero merely gave a short nod. "Hai." Duo grinned, elbowing him in the ribs, and mouthed something silently. Lady Une watched the pair with curiosity, unable to lip-read.
"What did he say?"
Heero looked over, even as Duo gave her a cheeky thumbs up.
"He said, 'So when do we leave?'"
End Part Three
(:./hope/dream3)
