Jul 3, 2000
Revised: March 31, 2001
Howdy! ^_~ Ready for part 3 of this monstrosity? <:) Brace yourselves, folks it's a... *ominous music* non-yaoi lemon! That's right, this bit features a sexually explicit, male/female scene. Who'd o' thunk it? <:) It's also blatantly dark(ish) and has plenty of angst, so if that kind of stuff troubles you this is probably not the fic for you. ^_~ Feel free to point out any OOC behavior you see, as I'm still learning and hope to make my next GW fic better. <:) Any kind of constructive comment, whether positive or negative, public or private, will be gratefully received. ^_^
My thanks to RavynFyre, Zan, Von, BJ, Meph, Barb, and Arashi-kun, for taking the time to comment on the previous parts, and to sea for continuing to ask about the fic. I hope you'll all enjoy part 3. ^_^ Also, special thanks for the medical advice from Akeru and HawkeCrystal, whose brilliant "vitamin pill" idea appears in this part, and thanks to Zaz for being willing to be my guinea pig - oops, I mean, beta-reader. ^_~
Just for the sake of pretending like I have a legal leg to stand on, I figured I should mention here that I did not create Gundam Wing, that I have no rights to the series and that I mean no disrespect whatsoever to the creators, nor is this story meant to be taken as a claim to either the characters or the situations which were not created by me. Also, I not only have no money, I'm in debt past my eyeballs, and suing me would be pretty durn pointless since there wouldn't be anything to gain by it.
Gee, I hope that does it. ^_~
In spite of the frantic pace of the preparations, the wedding of the Winner heir was a magnificent affair. Pale and somber in his black wedding suit, Quatre solemnly took his vows, promising to take Shammara to wife, and to cherish her as First Wife should she produce a male child for his heir. His bride answered in a low, melodic voice, humbly vowing to be an obedient wife, to strive for a male heir and to love and cherish Quatre till death parted them. Her long wedding gown lit up the room in its scarlet glory - the traditional color of joy. Her face was hidden completely in the folds of the crimson veil that covered all but the curling ends of her long, black hair.
After the ceremony, Quatre lifted the veil and beheld his new wife's face for the first time as he gave her a chaste kiss. She was strikingly beautiful. Her wide dark eyes were framed by long sooty curling lashes, her mouth full-lipped and lush, her skin the dusky color of the desert women, her body ripe and perfect... but she was nothing like Trowa. She sat at one end of the long table at dinner time, and he at the other. Neither of them ate at all while the family feasted in their honor. Quatre fidgeted, all too aware of the eyes on him, his heightened perceptions even taking in the jealous rivalry between Adrienne and her sisters... he wondered if there wasn't some sort of power play involved in arranging his first match. He sighed, and pushed the food around on his plate a little more. It seemed that every pair of eyes that met his held some kind of secret, some kind of ulterior motive...
In all too short a time, the newlyweds were led to Shammara's new suite at the Winner estate. Servants bustled around, setting everything just so and turning down the bed. At length they left, and Shammara pulled the veil from the thick gleaming mass of her hair and stood holding the cloth in her hands, waiting on some cue from Quatre.
"Are you nervous, my wife?" Quatre whispered at last.
"Yes, husband," Shammara answered, lowering her eyes as a blush darkened her dusky cheeks. "But... I am eager as well, my lord."
"Please just call me Quatre," he asked, and taking a step closer he hesitated once more.
"Please... Quatre... allow me to please you," Shammara whispered, and then stepped in and kissed him, gently at first but then with more insistence. Quatre's heart ached for Trowa, for the sweet, drugging kisses they had shared... but that was over now, and blinking back tears he concentrated on kissing his new wife, carefully unfastening the tiny clips that held her gown in place. With a shiver, he broke free from the kiss.
"No, allow me," he said, and Shammara smiled. The gown fell away, and in the dim light he could barely see Shammara's dark fingers opening his dress shirt, pushing the silky fabric off his shoulders. Quatre allowed coat, tie, vest, shirt and cufflinks to fall on the floor in a heap by the scarlet puddle of Shammara's gown.
He guided her over to the vast, satin-covered bed, pressing her down onto the cool softness. As he kissed her again, his hands slowly explored the contours of her body, trailing down her neck, along the sweetly plump arms, the delicate curve of her waist...
Shammara sighed as Quatre's hands stroked her breasts softly, her skin tingling with the sensation. She helped him when it seemed that the hooks on her undergarments had baffled him, but to a large degree he wouldn't let her do anything.
"Please, Quatre... husband..." she whispered, rising up to meet his lips with another kiss, her hair tumbling in a thick silky fall to the bed beneath her. "Please let me please you..."
Quatre silenced her by kissing her again, trapping her wrists his hands as she reached out to him. With a series of delicate nips and kisses, he worked his way down the side of her neck to her breasts, flickering his tongue across the sensitive flesh before suckling gently. He released her wrists, and Shammara buried her hands in the thick pale silk of his hair, moaning. She felt his fingers trailing lightly along the insides of her thighs, and heard his soft intake of breath as her legs parted for him easily. He paused for a long moment, as if working up his courage, and then she felt his fingers gently stroking the petals of her sex, delving into the slick passage carefully. Shammara froze, her eyes squeezing tightly shut as her new husband caressed her with a delicate touch, and she marveled that he knew just how to do it, the gentle teasing enough to drive her mad with unexpected desire. It seemed an eternity had passed, in which her focus had narrowed to nothing but those talented fingers touching her so intimately. Quatre waited until Shammara had given up all semblance of grace, had begun thrusting up eagerly against his hand and moaning with need, and it was then that he entered her, using his body to drive her to the fulfillment that she had been so close to reaching. She cried out loudly as she bucked under him in release, and never noticed that Quatre had been silent throughout.
Shammara stretched luxuriously, sighing as she slowly opened her eyes. Bright morning light spilled through the windows, illuminating the bridal chamber. She was alone in the room.
She pouted for a moment, but gradually a smirk stole across her lovely face as she rose from the stained sheets and crossed the room. The plan had worked. She was the bride of the Winner heir, and she was determined to be his honored First Wife as well. And, to make life even sweeter, he had proved to be a gentle and considerate lover. She had expected a brief, clumsy encounter - in fact, she had anticipated reluctance on her husband's part - but he had given her such a wonderful surprise instead.
And best of all, he was all hers! She chuckled as she glided over to the oversized tub to bathe. As soon as she had conceived his son, her place within the Winner household would be assured. And Adrienne... that simpering twit would undoubtedly expect Shammara to remember who had helped her gain the position of First Wife. That idiot blonde didn't even realize she'd been merely the means to an end! Shammara laughed, and began washing her glossy black hair.
Quatre scrubbed again, desperate to remove every trace of Shammara's scent from his skin. Something about her... the way she looked at him... even the way she clung to him and sobbed his name... He grimaced and scrubbed harder.
When he finally emerged from the bath of his private suite, his skin was pink and tender from the harsh scrubbing, and his hair was dripping. He swiped at his hair half-heartedly with a towel, then eased himself into his own bed, exhausted.
"Trowa..." the whispered word was almost a moan, an agonized entreaty in the otherwise silent room. By the time Quatre fell asleep, his pillow was damp with mingled tears and bathwater.
Quatre dressed in somber brown for brunch. His new wife was there, giggling with two of his sisters as he entered the room, but when she saw him she rushed to his side, hugging his arm against her ample bosom.
"Well, Quatre-chan," Adrienne said with a little smirk. "We hear you passed the night well."
"Oh?" Quatre could feel his face heating in a blush. He repressed the urge to shrug Shammara's hands off.
"The merrymaking for the wedding continues," Carine agreed. "There was much cheering when the sheets were exhibited this morning." Quatre was appalled. To have so many people witness to such a private, painful thing... He crossed to the buffet table, subtly freeing himself from Shammara's grasp as he selected several pieces of melon for his plate.
"Well, there will be cause for more rejoicing shortly," Quatre said quietly. "I plan to marry again tonight."
"Husband!" Shammara cried. "You mean to replace me?"
"I mean to fulfill my obligation," Quatre replied in a voice that was both quiet and sincere. "I will marry every day for 30 days, and hope to beget a son. She who bears the heir will be honored as First Wife." He seated himself at his place of honor, pretending to be oblivious to the waves of frustration and fury pouring from both Adrienne and Shammara. "Carine, do you have a bride in mind for me?"
"Why... yes..." Carine said. Her face seemed to be frozen in a wide-eyed, shocked expression. "Do you wish to meet her-"
"No. Let the wedding be tonight," Quatre interrupted. "If I cannot be free to live as I choose, then I prefer to begin as soon as possible. I will meet her tonight when we exchange vows."
"Yes, of course," Carine said. "If you'll excuse me, I have arrangements to make." Quatre nodded, and Carine hurried from the room. Shammara and Adrienne were carrying on a heated, whispered conversation, and he forced himself to eat a few bites of melon. He barely even noticed when Josephine approached him, but frowned when she dropped two tablets beside his plate. He recognized them, of course - they were the same pale-orange chewable vitamins that had been pushed on him all his life. For some reason, even after he had left his home, Rashid and the other Maguanacs had insisted that he take them every day... He had stopped taking the blasted things months ago, except on those occasions that Rashid watched to see him eat them.
"Take them," Josephine ordered, and he awarded her a look that fell just short of a glare, but only because he didn't want to be accused of being "emotional" again.
"No, thank you," Quatre answered smoothly, and dismissed her with a smile before taking another small bite of melon.
"They're your medicine, for your condition," Josephine said, smirking slightly when Quatre choked on the melon. It might be tradition that the males of the Winner family were the ones who held the power, but that didn't make it right, in her view, and while she couldn't act directly against her little brother, it pleased her to see him ill at ease.
Quatre swallowed hard and then looked at her, his expression so stunned and appalled that she almost - almost - regretted telling him in that manner. He looked down at the little tablets as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, and then looked back up at her again, the color receding from his face.
"Rashid knew..."
"Of course he knew," Josephine answered just a little too sharply. "All of your little friends knew; Father told them. Didn't you wonder why they were so protective of you?"
Quatre shook his head slowly. He had always assumed they were his friends...
"Father paid them well to keep an eye on you, and since you insisted on playing your silly war games, they played bodyguard," Josephine explained slowly, as though she were speaking to an idiot. "And they made sure you got plenty of rest, and healthy food and drink..."
"I get the point," Quatre said wearily. So the Maguanacs had been glorified babysitters. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, then, that nobody had bothered to tell him of his condition - they all still saw him as a child. His whole life... everything he had made and accomplished... it was all a sham, a mere nursery game. "Thank you, Josephine," he said, and took the tablets under her watchful eye. Josephine gave him a barely-civil smile before she swept out of the room with a grand air.
Quatre brooded for a while on what he had discovered, his mood darkening as it occurred to him that he had never been out from under his father's thumb, never stood on his own. It had all been a mirage...
Then the thought occurred to him that he had never been anything more than a male prostitute for his family's wishes, and he had to force himself to swallow. The melon might as well be ashes in his throat. The cage he lived in might be gilded and garnished with the finest of gold, the softest of silks and the most beautiful women... but that didn't change the fact that it was a cage.
His appetite lost, he rose and returned to his chamber to seek out whatever peace of mind he could manage.
Lake Taal base lay between the lake itself and the Tagatay Range, the shadow of the nearest mountain casting a pall over the base's activities. In the early morning light, the base was all but invisible to the naked eye, but luckily Heavyarms was equipped with accurate sensors. Piercing the gloom was no problem for the Gundam pilot or his companions.
Trowa's green eyes narrowed as he came within range, and the Maguanacs spread out around him, waiting his signal to begin. The base had to be destroyed; of that there was no doubt. They had begun experimenting with something very like the Zero system.
Trowa shuddered, and then gave the signal. As one, the Mobile Suits leaped forward, weapons firing. In a matter of a few minutes, the base would be nothing but rubble...
A new Mobile Suit stepped out of one of the warehouses, and Trowa heard chilling laughter over his comlink as the new suit flew in to challenge him.
"I knew it was just a matter of time!" a deep voice cried, as a series of blasts from the new Mobile Suit's rifle sent Heavyarms reeling. "Prepare to die, Gundam!"
Trowa braced himself, Heavyarms planting itself firmly on the ground and launching a barrage of its own. The new Mobile Suit dropped its rifle, brought up a tool very like a cross between a Beam Saber and Duo's Thermal Scythe... and swatted the explosives out of the air like so many annoying flies.
Trowa's eyes widened, and he flung Heavyarms out of the way as his enemy rushed forward, apparently intent on impaling the Gundam with the pointed end of the weapon. Heavyarms executed a flawless triple twist, and Trowa gasped as his Gundam descended toward the Earth and the enemy Mobile Suit appeared beneath him, weapon raised.
Rashid's Mobile Suit slammed into the side of the new suit, throwing its aim off so that the thermal blade skittered across Heavyarms's chestplate, hissing as it ripped partly through the Gundamium armor. Heavyarms clutched the enemy Suit's wrist with one metal fist, straining to keep the thermal blade from sinking further into its circuitry. Trowa ignored the sparks flying in the cockpit and the blaring of the warning siren.
"Mr. Barton!" Rashid cried over the intercom.
"It's all over, Gundam," the enemy hissed, pressing forward with the thermal blade.
Trowa slammed another barrage of missiles into the enemy Mobile Suit at point-blank range, but they had dismayingly little effect. The enemy's laughter echoed over the comlink, sending a chill down Trowa's spine.
"Nice try," the deep voice hissed, "but not good enough. Rest in peace, Gundam."
"No, there's a way we can both rest in peace," Trowa said quietly.
"Not your self-destruct," the enemy answered. "I deactivated it." Sure enough, the blow from the thermal blade had sliced into the thick hull of Heavyarms's Gundamium surface, pierced through to the self-destruct mechanism and destroyed it... as efficiently and easily as filleting a fish.
"I thought of everything," the enemy pilot crowed. "Omega system is more than a match for anything you can come up with!" The com panel lit up as the man allowed his image to appear for the first time - a young man with bright red hair, and amber eyes that burned with hatred. "Look at me," he growled. "I want you to see the face of the man who defeated you!"
The Mobile Suit ripped free of Heavyarms's grip and drew back to deliver a death blow. Trowa's eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath, fully expecting it to be his last...
and gasped in astonishment as Rashid's mech threw itself between them, the thermal blade slicing cleanly through the lesser suit.
"Rashid!" Trowa gasped.
"Mr. Barton, we must retreat!" one of the Maguanacs cried, and Heavyarms jolted as a mech grabbed it up and flew away.
"What about Rashid?" Trowa asked quietly, unperturbed by the sight of the ground flying by beneath him.
"I'm fine, Mr. Barton," the Maguanac said, his image staticky but discernible on the com panel. Trowa almost smiled. "Are you unhurt?"
"Fine," Trowa answered. "But I wouldn't be, if you hadn't helped."
"My Mobile Suit is replaceable," Rashid said gravely. "I'm only glad that Apu was able to fling it onto the enemy in time."
"He won't fall for that trick a second time," Trowa mused aloud.
"We could contact Quatre-sama..."
"Please do not mention his name to me," Trowa said.
"Even now? When we could use his help?"
"Even now."
Quatre finished scrubbing and crawled into his bed, wearily sighing against the pillows. Twenty-seven days. For twenty-seven days he had done nothing but eat, sleep, and fuck on demand, and his empathic ability was strained to the limit from trying to guess what each of his wives wanted from him. Every last one of them was different from the others in appearance, but so much like Shammara in ulterior motive... He was too weary to even wet the pillow with his tears, and when he finally slept, his dreams were painted with despair.
"Your Gundam is nearly repaired, Mr. Barton," Rashid said, offering Trowa a cup of strong Turkish coffee. The green-eyed pilot took a big swallow of the vile brew and nodded his thanks.
"I wish you would let me tell you," Rashid said.
"I wish you would stop trying."
Rashid nodded, and the two drank their coffee in silence. Trowa mused darkly on the red-haired man and his "Omega system." It was time to call in reinforcements.
"And this is where you last saw it?" Duo asked. "I don't see anything." The area was poor, the land devoid of much life and incapable of supporting even a few people. The lake itself was still poisoned from centuries before, when its beautiful surface had concealed decaying barrels of toxic waste. It would be more trouble and expense than it could possibly be worth, to import enough food, water and materials to keep a base running... then again, if Trowa had been worried enough to call the three of them in, it must be pretty big. Heero and Wufei were silent, but Duo took comfort in their presence as the eeriness of the whole situation started to get to him. Trowa might not have been able to do much alone, but the four of them together would wipe the desert floor with Omega and still get home in time for lunch.
"This is where Omega appeared," Trowa replied, as Heavyarms pointed toward the shadowy outline of Lake Taal base.
"Wonder if they know we're here," Wufei muttered, and at that moment Omega arrowed toward them, visible only by a faint glimmer of silver in the shadowing mist and the poisonous glow of its spiked lance. Everything seemed to happen in an instant; Omega moved so quickly it was almost impossible to follow it with the eyes as it raced through their midst in a deadly dance. It struck Shenlong first, neatly slicing the Dragon Fang off, and as it spun in the follow-through it swung its weapon low, cutting the legs from under Heavyarms. As Trowa's mech toppled over, taking Shenlong with it, Deathscythe fell back, cloaking itself and looking for an opportunity to strike.
Omega's pilot smiled, a bitter twist of the lips, and turned to face Wing Zero.
//Pathetic, these Gundams; they're no match for me. I can see right through that flimsy Gundanium armor; I can see the outline of the pilot's body. Wing rushes at me, and I dodge, cutting diagonally through the Gundam's chest with neat precision; my lance tearing into the cockpit and pinning the pilot's left arm and leg; he doesn't dare move.
Pathetic.
He's frozen, and I can imagine the look on his face; he must be shocked that Omega has outguessed his precious Zero System. His heartbeat has speeded up, and even though he hasn't uttered a sound, I know he's in pain. The lance must be burning him, even though it's not directly touching him. I move it just a fraction of an inch, and he shifts in his pilot's seat, trying to keep away from the blade.
"Don't move, unless you want to lose a limb or two," I say, and I can't help but smile at the power, the sheer grandness of this machine. Truly, I am Omega, the End.//
Heero gritted his teeth against the pain as the spitting sparks from the end of the lance scorched his skin; he couldn't move his left arm or leg without losing them; as it was, the acrid scent of the lance mingled with the smell of burning flesh. There was no other way; Omega had to be destroyed before it could go any further. With his right hand, he found his self-destruct button and pushed it.
"It won't work, stupid Gundam boy," Omega's pilot told him over the comunit. "I cut right through the self-destruct trigger. Is that the best you Gundam pilots can do? Get up close and hit the self-destruct? Pathetic. I'll tell you what, though, scream for me and I won't cut you apart."
Heero remained silent, gritting his teeth again as the lance pressed fractionally closer. His eyes widened as the Omega pilot's face appeared on his vidscreen; though he did have some of the facial features Trowa had described, his red hair was shaded with gray around the temples. This couldn't be the "young man" Trowa and the Maguanacs had faced before; he wondered how many pilots Omega had, or whether there were more mechs outfitted with the Omega system.
"Please, Jesus, just one good shot," Duo whispered, and snuck in behind the mech, raising up his scythe and preparing to strike. The Omega pulled its lance free from Wing Zero, which began to fall, and as quick as thought, it reversed it weapon and impaled Deathscythe. Duo cried out in shock, and Deathscythe staggered backwards, spitting sparks. Through the crackling of his vidscreen, he saw the laughing face of Omega's pilot.
"Pathetic," the man said. "I'll let you live for today, little Gundam boys. Bring me the other one." Laughing, he sped back to the base; he had disappeared into the mist by the time Wing Zero hit the ground. The entire battle had taken little more than five minutes.
His twenty-eighth wife had eyes as blue as a summer sky and hair as fiery-red as a desert sunset, and he had been pleased with her apparent guilelessness... but his twenty-ninth wife, the wife chosen for him by his sister Caroline, wounded him with her very appearance. Cleome was her name, and she had straight auburn hair that hung nearly to her waist, and eyes a deep emerald green almost as compelling as... Her smile was shy and hesitant, and her fair skin flushed a delicate pink when Quatre took her hand; she didn't notice that her touch made his skin crawl, and he tried not to hate her for resembling Trowa.
Duo scrambled out of Deathscythe, slapping at his trousers where a few stray sparks had started them smoldering. He was still shaken that Omega had done so much damage in such a short time, with no apparent effort - the whole scenario had taken on a surreal, Twilight-Zone feeling. Wufei and Trowa were already climbing out of their own mechs, and as he turned to where Wing Zero lay, Duo saw Heero crawling out of the ruined cockpit.
"What do you think you're doing?" Duo called, jogging over as he realized that Heero was trying to repair the damage. The Japanese pilot had already torn his green tank top to form makeshift bandages, but the scraps of cloth didn't completely cover the blackened skin, and as Heero moved it was obvious that his left arm and leg were all but useless.
"Have to go after him," Heero said, scowling. "Can't let him kick back and rest; have to hunt him down."
"Your Gundam is trashed," Duo pointed out. "Where the Hell do you think you're gonna get parts for it?" Heero turned to look at him pointedly, and it occurred to Duo that Shinigami had been hit in a different place, and that the parts of Wing that had been destroyed could indeed be replaced. "Oh, no. Not a snowball's chance, man. No fuckin' way."
"We can't let him go to ground," Heero insisted, scowling further as Wufei and Trowa approached them. His mouth was tight with repressed pain, and he didn't have time to waste trying to convince them he was right.
"Look, Heero," Duo said, "You've got balls the size of cantaloupes, and we're all terribly impressed. But you can NOT go after that thing by yourself, with a Gundam that's being held together by faith and bubble gum! Are you listening to me?"
"No," Heero replied. "Either help me, or get out of my way." Duo was opening his mouth to reply, but a wave from Wufei forestalled him. Before anyone could say or do anything more, Wufei walked up behind Heero and struck him, one sharp, precise blow to the back of the head. Heero crumpled without a sound.
"Better call the Maguanacs," the Chinese pilot said, his calm voice belying the furious gleam in ebony eyes as he glanced at the damage to his Nataku.
"And Quatre," Duo added. "That guy said he wanted 'the other one;' I think we'd better get him in on this, too."
"No," Trowa said.
"We need their help," Wufei said. "We require medical and mechanical assistance."
"No, I mean I'll call the Maguanacs," Trowa clarified. "But we're not calling Quatre."
"But-!" Duo began.
"But nothing. My mind is made up." Trowa turned and stalked away, intent on finding a usable comunit and contacting Rashid. Over Heero's limp body, Duo and Wufei's eyes met, and they nodded in silent understanding. Enough was enough. It was past time to notify Quatre of the situation.
End Part Three
Yoiko ^_^
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