Disclaimer: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing and all its respective characters do not belong to me and were used without permission. I do not own Angel Sanctuary, Evaporated (Ben Folds Five), or anything else I used here, and I used them without permission. Some dialogue has been badly paraphrased from original Japanese translations, and DO NOT BELONG TO ME. Please don't sue, k?
Warnings: Angst, language, supernatural, het and yaoi (shounen ai mainly); overall ODD plotline. Semi-songfic. (Not really, though; I just threw some Ben Folds Five in at the beginning and end of chapters)
Notes: Uh, co-author for this fic is my awesome friend Sybil Burn.
~hugs~ go out to Kim, Kelso an' Sara. It's fun having multiple beta-readers. Not ONLY do I get lots of help, but if there are any mistakes, you can all blame them! Kim and Sara especially. Kelso only really commented... So she's innocent. Rats. *snaps fingers*
Extra notes: ( ) = thoughts
italics = flashback/memory
// // = song lyrics
Extra extra notes: This fic actually takes place during the GW series timeline and jumps around all over the place. It skips some places and really elaborates on others. Super annoying, I know, but true all the same. Sorry. Hope it's tolerable.
Extra extra extra notes: (Wow, there's more?) Yeah yeah. When I started this, I seriously had NO idea what Midii Une looked like. Gimme a break, Episode Zero's in black and white and I couldn't tell. I thought she'd look pretty with brown hair and eyes. ...err, or maybe I'm just biased by Lady Une. Who knows. So I wrote her with brown hair and brown eyes. But anyway, maybe 1/3 of the way through I found out what she REALLY looks like, so I combed through the entire thing and changed it in the appropriate places. If you see a part anywhere where I describe her as having brown hair and/or eyes, let me know. @_@ I need to FIX it...oi.
Feedback: Please? Pretty please? Leave a review or send a comment to mobertus@aol.com OR thyme_w@hotmail.com
( I like you. )
"You have nothing that can be taken away from you. No name, no past, right now not even companions."
( I love you. )
"I have a not only a name, but a sick father and three little brothers. Because of that I had to become a spy and cause the deaths of lots of people. I can't even tell the person I love that I love him! Do you understand why?"
( I wanted... )
"Because I'm not empty like you! I have too much! Family! A home! And the knowledge of what bad things I've done!"
( ...to be... )
"That's why I HATE empty people like you!"
( ...beside you! )
"...Is that all you've got to say?"
"Wh-what?!"
"You're better off than me. You've got somewhere to go home to."
"..."
"Goodbye."
( Goodbye, No-Name. )
...!
"Wait... Wait, No-Name!"
"That's not me. I have a name. I am..."
...
"...A traveler who's looking for a home to return to. In space, they're waiting for me."
Space was cold.
He hadn't expected it to be like this. When he'd walked away from his life all those years ago, he'd said it himself. In space, they were waiting for him.
So far he'd found space, but that was all; there was nothing else here for him -- nothing but the cold that surrounded him now on all sides. And once he arrived, it had taken him nearly a year to find anything relatively warm or alive...
...he eventually found it in a pair of aqua eyes and an unexpected friend. But even that was out of reach.
"Do you really have to go? I won't ask you to stay, but at least tell me your name...."
Such a kind smile. Those aqua eyes had a hold on him; he hadn't trusted anyone like that since....
Bitter memories eventually rose up, and apple-green eyes closed. His mind drifted.
The cots in these circus trailers were incredibly uncomfortable, and the blanket was too thin. He shivered underneath his clothing, curling his arms around his thin body. He was tired. It had been a long day, and now he wanted to sleep.
It was somewhere in mid-Autumn, but the weather generator never functioned quite properly. The breeze blowing in through the trailer window was too strong and cold, but Trowa didn't feel like closing it just yet. He instead settled for watching out the dirty window; studied the pinprick diamond stars and admired the little sliver of a crescent moon that parted the black pseudo-sky like Moses.
Eventually, cold and tired, he drug himself to the window and shut it. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance. Collapsing again on his bed, Trowa raked a hand through his tangled brown hair, warmer now. He drew the blanket tightly around himself and was soon asleep.
...and isn't that where problems always start?
( No-Name... )
The voice was quiet. Whispery tones of old memories washed through his mind like familiar warm honey.
( No-Name. Can you feel me? )
It brushed like velvet against his temples, soothing away everything. It was soft and gentle. He remembered that voice.
( All that pain, No-Name. )
He had trusted that voice.
( I want you to feel it. )
Something passed over his wrist. Pain swelled where it touched, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it away.
( I want you to feel my pain so clearly...you can TASTE it.... )
A pause. The throbbing in his wrist increased, and he was faintly aware of something wet and sticky sliding down his skin. It dripped onto the cold floor, breaking the silence.
( Can you taste it yet, No-Name? )
He shook his head and tried to open his eyes, find the voice, but he couldn't. The pain crawled down into his fingertips and up past his elbow. He shivered.
( You deserve it, for what you did to me... )
It hurt. The raw pain slithered up his arm and over, infecting his heart. He could feel a cold imprint in his skin over his chest, creeping steadily down his body.
( Do you know what you did to me, No-Name? Do you even care? You killed me. You KILLED me. )
Then all the pain evaporated, and there was a fuzzy static sound as the voice dropped to a depressed whisper.
( You walked away from me, No-Name...I told you to wait. )
Then it was angry....
( WHY didn't you WAIT, No-Name!? )
The static overpowered the voice, and Trowa was alone for a few seconds before morning light crept over his eyelids, and he woke up.
There was someone knocking at his door. Cathy's soft, feminine tones floated to him through the door.
"Trowa, are you awake?"
He wiped his face with his hands, rolling off the bed and to his feet. Noticing his state of undress, he tugged a dirty shirt over his head and a pair of pants up over his boxers. He opened the door, watching the way Cathy's blue eyes smiled at him more than her mouth ever could. She was always so happy. He admired her.
"Trowa! Good morning," she said. She gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek, the sun shining in her smile when she pulled back. "It's already seven o'clock, so we only have an hour to feed the animals before practice. Finish dressing and meet me by the cages, will you?"
He nodded. She winked at him and handed him his outfit for the performance, the clown half-mask set neatly on top of the pile of clothing.
"Don't be late, Trowa -- you KNOW how Manager hates it when you are."
Then she laughed and made her way to the main grounds. He watched her with a fond expression until she was out of his line of sight, then turned and made his way back inside. He almost smirked. Cathy was nice, but she could be a little too protective sometimes. Still, it was nice to have someone he could call family...
He felt a familiar ache in his chest as he went about pulling on the rest of his clothing. Betrayal. The last time he'd found someone to call family, she'd turned around and taken everything away. And then she'd had the nerve to pretend like she cared. She'd claimed she was sorry -- claimed guilt and a heavy weight on her frail shoulders, but he couldn't bring himself to believe her. Not then. Not now.
He scowled, running his hand through his hair once more to return it to its original styling. Not even bothering to pause for a look in the mirror, Trowa was soon out the door of his trailer and heading the way Cathy had gone moments before. He did, however, stop to rub at his suspiciously sore wrist before he went about his daily routine....
Manager was furious. He stalked across the grounds away from the trailers towards the bright red-and-white striped tents, clutching his fists at his sides. He spotted Catherine standing not far away.
"Trowa is gone again! I can't find him!"
Cathy attempted a reassuring smile, trying to hide her own nervousness. Trowa was missing again? Hm. Mysterious kid.
"Yes. He said he'd be back soon."
Manager didn't look convinced. "Dammit! What the hell is he thinking? Do you know I have every reason to fire him?"
She tilted her head to the side, reddish curls falling over her face as she smirked. "But he's too good to lose, right?"
"Shit! We have a lot to talk about when he gets back." He stalked back off, looking supremely peeved. Cathy frowned, casting her blue-gray eyes to the sky above in wonder.
"Trowa," she whispered, "what are you trying to do?"
Somewhere across from the restless bay by San Francisco, a short boy with pale corn-silk hair twisted the cord of a telephone booth around his fingers nervously.
"Is this the San Francisco Star Regent Hotel?"
A pause.
"I would like to book a room. Only, I am a minor and alone..."
By chance, the blue-green eyes of the youth happened to stray momentarily over the surrounding area, falling on the lean form of a boy with a waterfall of soft brown hair cascading over his face. Quatre's breath caught in his throat, aqua eyes widening in recognition.
"That's...."
He left his words hanging, speechless. It was that boy again. Trowa. He smiled to himself, turning back to the phone.
"I'm sorry, what was I saying? Oh, yes, of course. I'm a minor and alone. Will that be all right?"
He continued his business with the Hotel although his thoughts never strayed far from the boy standing in the distance behind him. Once he was finished, he went over to talk.
"Hi," he offered, smiling in an attempt to perhaps soften the other boy's impervious exterior. He was met with a cool green stare, and Quatre flinched inwardly.
( He has such dead eyes... I wonder what makes them that way? )
Undaunted, he continued. "I guess we're on the same mission after all." The emerald stare betrayed nothing, cold and impassive, much like the stone it imitated.
"I can do it alone."
Confident, the boy insisted, the calm smile never straying from his ashy white face. "So can I, but it will be more successful if we cooperate."
The bottle-green eyes flickered, then looked away. "I wonder about that..." Graceful steps lead the slender brunette away from him, and Quatre watched him go in silence for a moment, then,
"I have a room booked in the Star Regent Hotel. It's not far from here..." He paused for a moment, considering, then drew up his courage and lifted his chin into the air slightly. "If you don't have a place to stay already, you could come with me."
The retreating figure stopped momentarily, turning the situation over in his head. He could use the place to stay, so it would be stupid to decline his offer. He looked back over his shoulder at the shorter boy who stood, biting his lip as if in worry. Trowa shrugged an elegant shoulder, flicking his eyes downward almost shyly.
"I suppose," he conceded, quietly. He looked back up long enough to see a warm smile spread across the blonde's face. Inwardly, he did the same, but nothing showed on his face. Not that anything ever did. Satisfied with his decision, Trowa turned and walked away.
( ...I want to trust you. )
Trowa watched the other boy from across the room as he sat on the couch quietly. Quatre kicked his duffel bag into a corner of the room, looking at the clock. Roughly one o'clock AM.
"It's late. We should sleep soon."
Trowa nodded, rising from the couch and walking to the bed. Wordlessly, he stripped a pillow and a blanket from it and started to arrange them on the couch when a small hand caught his, stopping him. He looked up, startled, into Quatre's face.
"I will take the couch," he said softly, turning Trowa away. He looked him in the eye, smiling a little. "YOU will have the bed. I invited you as my guest. It would be rude to do otherwise."
Trowa shrugged, dropping down to a sitting position on the end of the bed.
"Fine."
Quatre smiled, looking pleased, and started to put together a makeshift bed with the pillow and blanket. The brunette, lowering himself beneath the covers reluctantly, watched Quatre go about doing this; admired the pretty white skin and soft blonde hair.
(...I think I can trust you.)
Then the smaller boy turned to him, still smiling.
(He always smiles. What does he have to be so happy about in this godforsaken war...?)
"I'm going to clean up a bit first," Quatre said, and began heading towards the bathroom door. Trowa didn't protest, so he shut the door firmly behind him and promptly sagged against it. What had he been thinking, inviting him along? It was obvious the guy didn't like him, and it was just making things more difficult. He held a hand to his chest, rubbing slowly over his heart. He hated this.
(Dammit; again?)
That boy in there was so lonely. He could feel it. But every time he came close to making contact with someone, he hung back, held away by something.
He sighed and shut his eyes. All this thinking was getting him nowhere. He needed to finish up here and then get some sleep. His mind made up, Quatre pushed off from the door and stumbled to the sink. Splashing cool water on his face, he fought back a sigh.
Someday, maybe that boy wouldn't be so lonely.
hell
cold
tired
lost
l o n e l y
The echoes lurking left and right, extracting their messages through the winds and gusts to his ears; he was alone again, save for the one voice he couldn't ever forget.
(Why won't you talk to me?)
Trowa cried softly to deaf ears; no one would help him. Her voice pinned him down, held him still in one place. He stared, trapped, into her big pretty eyes and wondered why this was happening again.
( You never talk to me... )
Her soft hair brushed again his skin as she leaned in closer, cold hands grasping his. She squeezed them tight, watched lifelessly as his blood slid down between her fingers.
( Say something, No-Name. Please? )
She watched him steadily, her knuckles turning white in her death grip. The blood slicked down between them and along his wrists. He said nothing.
( Tell me you miss me... tell me you're sorry. )
She looked and him meaningfully, her pretty eyes narrowing.
( Say you'll never leave me again? )
He shut his eyes tight and looked away, wanting to scream. "...No." He said it without thinking, and regretted it almost immediately as he felt the anger flare up around her.
( Then I'm going to kill you, ) she said softly, and he wanted to cry when she reached her hand through his chest and wrapped dead fingers around his heart. ( But I will always love you, No-Name... Goodbye. )
She started to pull, her voice bleeding into static again, and suddenly he opened his eyes, breathing raggedly, and was startled to see Quatre leaning over him, shaking him awake.
"Are you all right?" Quatre asked.
Looking away quickly, Trowa nodded. He gritted his teeth and tried to forget the nightmare.
( Only a dream. Only a dream. It was only a dream. )
"Fine," he said.
Pale blue eyes studied him, taking in the cold sweat on his forehead and lack of breath; the fear flickering underneath the surface of dark eyes.
"...I don't believe that's true." And a small, warm body slid down next to him in the bed. He stiffened, moving away.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Quatre pulled the covers up over him, shifting around until he was comfortable. "Sleeping next to you."
Nervous. Scared. Uncertain. "Why?"
"It'll keep the nightmares away."
Trowa swallowed, not sure what to make of this. "Oh." He rolled over, facing away from Quatre, and stared at the wall. Something stung at his chest, and he ran his fingers over it, feeling faint scratch marks; his breath caught in surprise. Quatre noticed.
"What is it?"
"...nothing." He stared at the wall with wide eyes. ( It couldn't be...)
"Are you sure?"
"Leave me alone."
Quatre didn't say anything else the rest of the night. Trowa eventually found sleep, clutching the material of the sheets in his fist tightly.
( Just a dream. )
The nightmare didn't come back that night.
"Shit! They just keep coming!"
Clever eyes flicked downwards, alerted by an alarm to a red mobile suit appearing on screen....
"Missiles? Aimed at us!?"
Inside of the approaching red suit, green eyes hardened in concentration. Trowa fired.
"...I'm out of missiles." He cursed softly; moved on. The battle continued.
Quatre, inside Sandrock, gritted his teeth and braced himself while he spoke, "Sorry. I have no time to persuade you to surrender today. But things are so urgent..."
Twin blades cut sharply through Federation Mobile Suits. His heart clenched with each life taken; he pressed his hands to his chest occasionally, wishing for relief.
( I hate this. )
A thin Japanese boy studied his enemies closely. "Are those OZ's new mobile suits?" he wondered.
A dark braid was rumpled as Duo shook his head in response. "But they're attacking the Federation Mobile Suits," he answered Heero.
Quatre felt a tug at the back of his mind. "Trowa," he said, "they look just like us." He licked dry lips; dared to hope. Were they the other pilots? "Maybe they're also..."
"Whatever they are," Trowa ended Quatre's thoughts, "I'll destroy them if they get in my way."
An alarm went off inside Wing and Heero caught glance of a shuttle taking off. "That's it!" The heavy machine boosted off the ground towards it. His weapons soon sliced the shuttle neatly in half, and it exploded...
He smiled smugly to himself. "Mission: completed."
Duo snarled, urging Deathscythe forward to attack Heavyarms. "Thanks for the great missiles... here's something in return!"
And the two machines clashed.
"Please, wait!" Quatre begged. ( Please no, not yet, not so soon, no... )
Then an arrogant voice interrupted everything.
"MORONS!"
A new suit touched down, intervening in the fight between Duo and Trowa. "Haven't you had enough of meaningless fighting already?"
Wing landed nearby. "What the hell?"
The new boy scowled, "Don't you get it? You've fallen into OZ's scheme!"
"What?" Quatre couldn't believe it.
"Tune into the Federation's information channel. You've terminated all the peaceful doves in the Federation!"
Heero's heart stopped beating in his chest. ( Oh, God, no... ) He looked at his screen where the channel was playing across it. ( What have I done? ) It was true...
"It can't be," he whispered. He'd been used.
They'd all been used.
Back at the circus, Catherine approached Trowa, carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of soup. "What took you guys so long? Trowa? It's been two hours!"
"What do you want?" he asked, detached. Wu Fei sat across from him, quiet. Both of them were tired from the mission; Wu Fei especially. It seemed as though he was also mentally exhausted.
"That's mean!" She ignored the remark, however, setting down the tray between them. "You must be hungry. I brought you something to eat." She smiled at them both. Wu Fei hadn't said a word so far. "Eat it before it gets cold; I mean it! You need to eat something... and, please, take care of the dishes. Boys need to learn to help 'Mummy,' you know? See ya!" Laughing lightly, she winked at them and walked away.
"Hm... I guess quiet boys make friends with other quiet boys," she mused to herself.
Trowa, secretly appreciative of Catherine's attempts to care for him, handed Wu Fei a cup of coffee. "I'm not sure if it's good or not," he said, honestly.
Wu Fei studied the coffee for a moment. "...I don't think I'm up to this job."
"I see."
He still held the coffee to him. Wu Fei looked up at him briefly before taking it. "Xie xie," he said softly.
Trowa just nodded.
No more words were spoken between the two that night, and by an unspoken agreement they both retired to their separate places a few hours later. His stomach full of warm soup, he silently thanked Catherine and slid into his bed. He was just beginning to drift off to sleep, when...
"Trowa! Trowa, helloooo? Are you paying attention to me?"
A voice snapped him away from the warm escapes of sleep. He blinked, turning in his desk to look at... Quatre?
"...What's going on?"
"Geez, Trowa, what a way to show gratitude to your friend!" Quatre sighed, rolling his eyes. "I skipped the Student Council meeting to help tutor you in Math, and you sleep right through it! What's your problem anyway?"
"...Quatre?" he asked, suddenly set at unease. What was he doing here? Why was he here? Looking around at the plain blackboard and desks, he gathered he was in a school room, but that only puzzled him further. What the hell was going on?
"Well, who else would it be?"
Just then, the door slammed open and a pretty, familiar girl stood in the door frame, smiling. "Trowa! There you are!"
"Midii!" Quatre smiled to her. "It's a good thing you're here," he chuckled. "Maybe YOU can snap some sense into him."
"Who, Trowa?" She frowned a little, setting her schoolwork down on a desk, and looked at Trowa sternly. "Are you being lazy again, Trowa? I swear, someday you're REALLY gonna get what's coming to you! I can't believe you!"
"Actually, he was sleeping," Quatre corrected her. Midii's stern look suddenly became amused.
"Well, isn't that cute. I guess you're done, then." Picking her things back up, she flashed them both a smile. "Come on, Trowa, you're walking me home."
During all the conversation around him, Trowa sat frozen in his chair. ( No. This... this is... real? No wars, no Gundams... and... SHE's here. )
"Midii?" he gasped out. "No, you can't be her... that kid must have died years ago..."
He broke off from his thoughts as Midii grasped his hand, pulling him from his seat face-to-face with her. "What's this? 'Kid?' Trowa, you've got some nerve calling me that -- we've been seeing each other for six months, and that's what you call me? Hmph... oh, well. You'll just have to make it up to me, then." Waving to Quatre, she pulled Trowa out of the classroom and into the hallway. "Come on, "she said, grinning. "You're walking me home."
"And I really don't like the physics teacher," Midii said, hands in the pockets of her skirt as she walked down a cozy street alongside Trowa. "He's so stuffy and rude -- I asked him a question today about something, and he looked at me like I was some kind of idiot and just ignored me! Can you believe it? Someone ought to fire him. Don't you think Trowa?"
The slender brunette, however, wasn't listening. He was lost in his own musings.
( This place is... real. I don't have to worry about anything here. Everything is perfect. ) He cast a very brief sidelong glance at Midii. ( So why do I feel so... empty?)
"Trowa!"
He blinked, shaking his head to clear it. He looked into concerned brown eyes, pulled from his thoughts. "What is it?"
A small, soft hand slid into his. Midii stared at him, frowning. "What's wrong? You seem so distant today." He looked down at her hand, amazed, then returned his gaze to her face. She seemed worried.
"Nothing. It's just, this world doesn't seem re--"
He was hushed by a finger against his lips, brown eyes pleading desperately. "Please don't say it, Trowa. If you don't say it, you can stay here forever... with me."
And then he knew the truth. Any thoughts of being happy in this quietly, beautifully perfect world were ground into the concrete like grape gum. "I... would like to stay, but now I know that I can't."
"Why the hell NOT?" Tears welled up in those pretty eyes, and she clung to him. "You can stay here, Trowa, stay here always... nothing will ever change here. You can be happy. Really HAPPY."
"...but this world's not real."
Her head shot up, and crystal tears scattered down her cheeks as she screamed. "NOOO!"
And the perfect world rippled around him and disappeared, although Midii still clung to his shirt. She dug her nails into his skin, and he was suddenly very uneasy when she looked up at him. Her eyes weren't brown anymore. They were milky white, lacking pupils and pigment. Her hair was streaked with gray and white...her eyes sagged in their sockets, and her skin shriveled. He pushed her away, frowning and swallowing a cry of surprise.
"Someone tell me what the hell's going on here!"
The girl in front of him rapidly decomposed before his eyes until she was nothing but a few whispers of bones, her hair littering the floor, and it eventually collapsed. Something spoke gently into his ear, and he moved instinctively away from it.
"No-Name... why did you do that?" A wavering image of Midii appeared before him, looking slightly crestfallen. "I tried to make you happy. No-Name. Don't you want to be happy?"
He swallowed, slightly unnerved by the skeleton on the floor. "I... how are you doing this? You're dead."
A little smile broke out on her face. "I'm... what you humans would call... a spirit. A ghost, if you will." She sighed a little sadly, reaching out long fingers to brush against his cheek. Her skin was very cold, and he tried to pull away, but her eyes held him entranced.
"Midii Une," he whispered. She seemed to grin, tilting her head to the side.
"Yes?" she crooned. "What is it, No-Name? Please, let me make you happy..."
"No." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "It's... it can't be you..." He looked at her again. She was short, with fine hair and big eyes, and she still wore that game around her neck -- no... it wasn't a game. It was a transmitter. He gritted his teeth, trying to force away the memories.
She was the reason he was alone.
"No-Name..." Midii sighed, looking very sad. "It was so hard for me to do what... I did to you," she said, reading his thoughts. "I thought maybe you'd listen to me and... forgive me, maybe even love me, but..." She looked pained, holding his shirt tightly in a white-knuckled grip. "But then... you... walked away from me." Her eyelids closed tightly. "You... you... you walked AWAY, No-Name!" She screamed and suddenly pushed him away. It caught Trowa off guard, and he stumbled backwards to trip over something and landed hard on his behind. He looked, shakily, at the skeleton and stood up quickly.
"I won't ever love you," he said, and looked at her steadily; watched the pain flicker openly in her pretty eyes. "And I can never forgive you." The girl flinched and looked away.
"...Then I will have no choice." Midii frowned, staring at the floor. "I'll be back tomorrow, No-Name. Please, for your own sake, think about what I've offered you." A small tear slipped down her face when she looked back up at him. "I only want to be happy... with you." She choked on her words. "Please, No-Name, you're killing me. Just come with me."
Trowa avoided meeting her eyes, and with a sigh, Midii released him from the dream. Suddenly it was morning and he was in his bed, blinking awake. He ran his hand over his face, stopping abruptly when he felt something wet. Pulling his hand away, he stared at his mysteriously bloody hand with wide eyes. He could find no wound, and yet...
( "Please, No-Name, you're killing me...." )
"Fuck."
The way back was a long one.
Cathy took it extremely well when Trowa showed up, carrying the half-dead form of Heero Yuy. She didn't ask why, only accepted that it was and he had done so for a reason and helped him bandage and care for Heero as best she could. Trowa found himself almost smiling inside, satisfied with his decision. He'd known Cathy would help. She was a great sister to him.
He felt a pang. ( I wish she really was... )
"Trowa?" Catherine's voice was soft and her gray-blue eyes were warm with understanding. "It's been a long day," she said quietly. "You rest while I watch him, all right? We can take turns."
He froze for a moment. Rest? Sleep? No. He felt like he would never sleep again. He didn't want to see that girl... He couldn't tell Cathy, though. It was best not to worry her unnecessarily. He nodded to her after what appeared to be a moment of thought, turning and disappearing out of the room into the main area and stretched out on the couch. He wouldn't sleep. He'd just rest, like Cathy'd said. No sense worrying about stupid dreams and nightmares when he was just resting. He wouldn't sleep. Trowa kept his eyes open.
Time was slow to pass and his eyelids felt heavy. He could hear Catherine knitting in the next room, listening to the soft clacking of the needles that echoed faintly in his ears. He wondered briefly what she was making but found it hard to concentrate. He was so tired, but still he kept his eyes open, trying to imagine just how he was going to pull this off. He wouldn't sleep, no, and he wouldn't worry Cathy about him. There was no point. Was there?
His eyes closed anyway. He was so tired, and it felt good to have his eyes finally shut.
The End
(:./thyme/evaporated)
