March 31, 2001
On the thirtieth morning, Quatre was moved to a new room. He followed where he was led, wondering at the move, for he had been true to his word and lain with each of his thirty wives. He knew that he would be expected to begin again with them, since so far none had conceived, but he hoped - prayed - that he would not have to begin again this night. It had been thirty days and thirty nights of hell, knowing that freedom was still completely out of his reach, knowing that Trowa was lost to him.
His new room was as luxurious as the rest; a huge bed dominated the decor, and the airy draperies that hung from the bed frame matched those on the windows - light, filmy fabric, designed to let air circulate while providing at least a semblance of privacy. There was also a balcony, set with a small table and a few chairs, where one could sit and enjoy the fresh breeze and the view of the cultivated gardens below. Quatre opened the glass door leading out to the balcony, and his heart sank as the reason for the move suddenly became clear.
Thirty women, each beautiful in her own right, turned to face him as he looked down onto the sheltered garden where the members of his harem were often allowed outside to enjoy the flowers and sunshine.
Duo crept out of his bedroom with the stealth that had kept him alive all these years, and silently made his way to the computer room. There was no point in waking the others; if his hunch paid off, he'd tell them about it in the morning. He sighed softly as he closed the door behind him, and the silence was filled by the steady low hum of Rashid's computer. The soft tapping of the keys as he began his work reminded him of Heero and that ridiculously outdated laptop he insisted on staying married to - but that only made him think of Heero as he'd last seen him, being treated for his burns at the Maguanac's makeshift clinic. Heero had somehow managed to look both terrifyingly frail and terrifyingly deadly; it was undoubtedly an uncomfortable task, trying to nurse the Perfect Soldier back to health, and Duo was glad not to have much part in it.
There was a soft beep as he entered the last encrypted password, and then a familiar, homely face filled the computer screen.
"Duo, my boy! Didn't expect to hear from you anytime soon."
"Dr G," Duo said with a nod, and then without further preamble he cut right to the chase. "What do you know about the Omega System?"
"Omega?" Dr. G asked, appearing genuinely surprised. "H and I worked on a system years ago, which we called 'Omega,' because we thought it would be the end to all wars. We scrapped the project, but some of our findings were instrumental in creating the ZERO System. Why are you asking about Omega?"
"Wait. The Omega System came *before* ZERO?"
"That's right; Omega was unstable. It was the end, but not in the way we had anticipated. Now. Before I answer any more questions, tell me."
Duo took a deep breath, and then began to explain the situation. As he talked, the expression on Dr G's face grew more and more grave, and he felt his stomach sinking.
This was not going to be good.
Fifty-three days. It had been fifty-three days of the unique torture his family chose to inflict on him; fifty-three days of exile from everything that mattered to him. He snuck out of his room, easily slipping from the arms of Alyssa, the wife he'd chosen for this evening specifically because she was a sound sleeper. He padded down the grand staircase, and made his way through the dark to the office where his father had often worked, which was now used by Caroline.
He wasn't breaking his word, exactly... he'd promised to come home, and to sire an heir. He hadn't agreed not to have any communication with his friends at all... but still, he found that his heart was racing with dread and anticipation as he started this course of action, for once begun, it would be irrevocable. There was no way to contact his friends without leaving a record of late-night activity on the computer logs.
No matter. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and as he was beginning the sequence of entries that would connect him with his friends, his eyes caught on a file name - "Quatre update" - from Caroline's earlier use of the computer. Curious, he started rummaging through the file while a message to him started to download.
He was rewarded with two pieces of shocking information at once, and for a moment he just numbly gaped at the computer. His fingers were typing in a message to Rashid while his mind still stumbled over what Caroline's file revealed, and he was just hitting the send button when the door behind him opened, and the room's lights were flipped on.
"Quatre, I trust there's a reasonable explanation for this," Caroline said severely, and Quatre waited to be sure his message had sent before turning to face the family eldest, and the sisters crowding into the doorway behind her.
"I think I need make no explanations," Quatre said, straightening himself to his full height. "I will be leaving shortly to return to my friends."
"You do not have permission-" Josephine began.
"I do not *need* permission!" Quatre snapped, cutting her off sharply. "I gave my word to come here and sire an heir for the Winner clan, and according to what I see here, I have fulfilled my part of the agreement. Two of my wives are pregnant, and one of the babies is already known to be a male. Therefore, I have fulfilled my obligation-"
"And if the baby miscarries?" Caroline asked. "I didn't tell you this news, because there was no point in getting your hopes up until after an heir is born."
"The agreement we made was that I would sire an heir, not that I would be present for the birth. I have sired an heir; I have done my part. It is *your* responsibility to protect the heir and ensure that he is born healthy. I have sent for a friend, who will be arriving in the morning. Unless you plan to break your word and have me placed under house arrest, I would like to be excused. I have much to prepare before I can leave."
"You would leave your wives, pregnant?" one of the sisters asked; it might have been Angelique.
"As my father left my mother, while he carried on his business. I have fulfilled the duties of hearth and home, and now I must return to my other work. I will leave, regardless... but I would like your blessing, Caroline."
"My blessing? To *fight?* I think you ask too much, Quatre."
"Then will you at least *try* to understand? What I'm doing is for the greater good, even if you disagree with my methods... My friends are trying to do the right thing, and I am needed."
"You will leave regardless of how we feel; very well. Do not expect us to make your leaving any easier for you."
Quatre sighed. "I promise you, I will return as soon as I may; to be here when the heir is born, if possible."
"Very well, Quatre," Caroline said. "I will abide by my word, and allow you to leave now that an heir has been sired. But you'll forgive me if I don't hold my breath awaiting your return."
Quatre smiled a little wryly, thinking that he had never given any of them reason to doubt his word, and as he shut down the computer his sisters slowly started to return to their rooms. By the time he was done, Caroline was the only one remaining.
"You know," he said, feeling a hollow ache in his heart for the love that had never existed between his family and himself, "if there were a way to transfer the inheritance over to a woman..."
"There isn't."
"No. There isn't."
Rashid arrived at the Winner mansion the next morning, expecting a fight, and was pleasantly surprised that Master Quatre walked out on his own, with no more protest than a few glowers from some of the women of the house.
"Master Quatre, it's so good to see you," Rashid said, trying not to loom over Quatre. It was always a mild surprise whenever they stood close enough together for him to see how short Quatre was. It seemed completely incongruous, that such a massive spirit should reside in so small and slight a frame.
"Rashid, thank you for coming so quickly," Quatre replied, smiling up at him. It was the first time he'd smiled freely in fifty-four days. "If you don't mind filling me in..."
"I'll be happy to provide all the details while we travel," Rashid said, and he couldn't help but feel his step lightening as he and Quatre made their way to his shuttle. Master Quatre was returning to Earth; all would be well.
"QUATRE!"
Quatre looked up just in time to see a huge grin and wild braid before he was swept up into a surprisingly strong bear hug, but he would have known that warm greeting anywhere in the Universe. Rashid and the Maguanacs generally kept a respectful distance, and the other Gundam pilots were much more... reserved, especially when it came to demonstrations of affection - not that Quatre's own family was any more affectionate. Only Duo had the audacity - or generosity - to offer a hug without being asked for one. He might wish for such audacity in others... like Trowa... Still, it had been good, so good, to set foot on Earth, to smell the sweet breezes and to be greeted with smiles as Rashid escorted him onto the grounds of the Maguanacs' latest base, and Duo's infectious enthusiasm was the perfect balm for his weary spirit.
"Duo! I'm glad to see you!" the blond said, hugging back and then beaming at his friend as they each stepped back from the embrace.
"Man, I'm glad to see you, too!" Duo cried. "And on your feet and everything! You look a damn sight better than the last time I saw you, I'll tell you that! Got a little color in your cheeks now, too."
Duo was cheerfully oblivious to the real reason for the distinctly pink shade Quatre was turning; behind the chattering pilot, Trowa had stepped out into the hallway, and he and Quatre made eye contact. Quatre was just drawing breath to speak when Trowa turned abruptly and walked away.
"Quatre? You Ok?" Duo asked, concerned. He turned around in time to see Trowa disappearing around a corner, and winced as the reason for Quatre's crestfallen expression became clear. The blond paused for a long moment, and struggled to hide the way Trowa's rejection had wounded him. He looked up at last, his eyes a little too bright as they met Duo's.
"Well. Shall we go look in on Heero? I hear he had quite an experience with our mysterious pilot." Duo laid a hand on Quatre's shoulder, his eyes expressing sympathy and a desire to comfort, and he didn't press for more as he led the way to Heero's room.
"Yanno, you sure picked up your family's speech patterns," Duo commented.
"I have, haven't I?"
Quatre tugged at his harness straps as Sandrock stepped onto the spot where Wing Zero had fallen. A hastily-repaired Deathscythe stood just slightly behind, and what few functioning Maguanac suits remained surrounded Sandrock in a loose semicircle; Wufei and Trowa were among them. Quatre gripped the controls tightly, struggling to shake the oddly uneasy familiarity of being in the cockpit once again, and his nerves sang with sudden warning.
Omega was coming.
"Well," the Omega pilot's voice rang over his comlink. "Quatre Raberba Winner, what an unexpected surprise."
"I was given to understand that you invited me," Quatre replied.
"Silly me," Omega said. "An expected surprise, then. I hope you're ready to die, Winner."
"Not quite," Quatre said, and before the last syllable was spoken, the suits were joined. Omega moved with blinding speed, but its weapon was not yet activated; when it struck, it caused minimal damage, and it danced out of the way before Quatre could return even a single blow.
"Your system is unstable," Quatre said, concentrating on blocking the blows from the deadened lance. "You shouldn't be fighting."
"Stop playing," Omega snapped, "Fight me! Don't you dare try to deny me this!"
"Omega!" Duo cried, his voice projecting through Deathscythe's speakers. "You have to stop fighting now; that system is dangerous!"
The man in the Omega laughed, and the suit darted in to pepper Sandrock with light blows.
"You don't understand!" Duo cried. "I talked to the man who made it! The Omega system kills its pilots!"
Omega stopped, and turned to face Deathscythe, and in the blink of an eye it attacked, its lance activating with an arcane hum as it pierced through the black Gundanium armor. The end of the weapon thrust into the cockpit, and stopped just short of Duo's legs.
"Don't push me, little Gundam boy," Omega snarled. "Keep your mouth shut."
Sandrock had recovered by the time Omega pulled away from Deathscythe, and this time as Omega approached, Quatre had his scimitars ready. He brought the weapons up in a deadly attack as he maneuvered himself between Omega and Deathscythe.
"You disappoint me, Winner," Omega sneered, batting the scimitars away as though they were mere toys.
"Why are you doing this?" Quatre asked.
"Why? WHY???"
"Yes, WHY?" Quatre roared. "You attacked my... comrades, and insisted that I come here, and you're flying a machine that will kill you! I want to know why! What do you want? Why are you doing this?"
"You want to know WHY?" Omega howled. "YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? September 9, 195 AC. You destroyed resource satellite 07, and then you murdered all the people in Colony 06 at Point E! And you want to know WHY?"
"You..." Quatre gasped, and fell back in shock; if Omega had pressed its advantage, the fight would have been over then.
"You murdered them, and then you walked away scot-free, and you never gave them a second thought!"
"I thought of them every day," Quatre said, but his own voice sounded weak in his ears.
"I carry their screams in my heart!" Omega cried, and the sound of his voice was like a death-knoll. "I am all that remains of that colony! I am the end! I am OMEGA! And I will not be satisfied until you suffer as I have suffered, and DIE as my people died!"
Omega rushed toward him, and Quatre lowered his weapons. Trowa, who had up until then watched silently, saw the gesture and knew that it meant surrender; Quatre was preparing to die for his guilt.
"Quatre, NO!" he cried, and flung himself forward, knowing that his borrowed mech would never reach them in time, knowing that the effort was futile, and knowing that he could do nothing else but try. Somehow, he managed to get there before the deadly arc of Omega's lance had even begun, and he skidded to a halt between Quatre and his enemy, thinking that it would be better to die trying to defend him than to merely watch him be executed.
"Trowa!" He heard a soft voice, full of self-recrimination and barely audible over his comlink. "Trowa, it's not worth it..."
"Omega, it wasn't his fault!" Trowa cried, and to his amazement the enemy stopped in its tracks, apparently listening. "You have to understand..."
"Trowa, he's..." Quatre said quietly, and Omega fell, landing on its back in a cloud of dust.
"It's a trick," Trowa said, but Duo and Quatre were already scrambling out of their Gundams and racing toward the fallen Omega. They managed to get the cockpit open, and then they both froze at whatever they saw there. Trowa warily joined them, and he, too, was stunned by the sight of the pilot. It was the same man he'd seen before, but then he had been young, with fire in his eyes and blazing red hair... now, nothing remained of that young man but a nearly lifeless husk, bent and frail and aged beyond comprehension.
"I will never forgive you..." the man whispered, and Quatre bowed his head, and the sight of Quatre so humbled made Trowa burn with fury.
"Please... at least tell me your name," Quatre whispered back.
"Omega..."
//I look up at the sky, knowing that I have done all I could to avenge my people, and the knowledge is sweet... truly, I am Omega..
the End...//
Quatre glanced up at Trowa, cautiously. After all this time, they were finally alone... yet he found that he couldn't say any of the things that he had so wanted to say; all of the sweet sentiments and gentle longings were shadowed by the death of Omega's pilot, by the dying glitter in his eyes and his last words.
"Quatre," Trowa said, and opened his arms, and Quatre ran to him and buried himself in Trowa's embrace, knowing that nothing would banish those memories. "You came back," Trowa was saying, and Quatre nodded.
"But I have to return," he said, and he felt a tight lump in his throat, tears pricking the corners of his eyes at the thought of leaving again, returning to the cold comfort of his home.
"When?"
"Soon."
"Tonight?"
"No..." Quatre hugged Trowa a little tighter, desperate loneliness welling up at the thought of returning to his home. "We have tonight..."
Trowa's fingers tilted his chin up slightly, and Quatre looked up at him at last, and his eyes closed as Trowa leaned in to kiss him...
//I will never forgive you... I carry their screams in my heart... I am OMEGA...//
"Quatre?"
//Suffer as I have suffered... die as my people died...//
"Quatre?" Quatre jumped, startled, and Trowa pulled him gently onto the bed, and held him tightly, pulling the covers over them both. "It's no good, is it, Quatre?"
"Oh, Trowa... I'm so sorry..."
"Shh..." Quatre felt the tears welling up again, and there was no holding them back. Trowa stroked his golden hair, and held him until the tears had run dry.
When Quatre woke in the morning, Trowa was gone. There was a folded note on the pillow beside his head, written in Trowa's painstakingly neat hand.
//Quatre,
My feelings for you have not changed in all this time; I can not bear to see you leave again. The first time nearly destroyed me, and this is no easier. If there is ever a third time, it will undoubtedly be the end of me. Please do not do this to me, Quatre; if you care for me or respect me at all, I ask that you respect my wishes in this. Do not follow me, or seek to find me.
It is said that parting is a sweet sorrow, but those who say it are fools. There is nothing sweet in parting - nothing but bitterness. I hope never to see you again, because it is easier to have nothing of you at all than to have only one night.
Please be well,
Yours,
Trowa//
Trowa was gone. Trowa was gone, and they had never gotten to even begin before it ended, and there was nothing left. He would grieve every day of his life what he and Trowa had lost, just as he would grieve for Omega and the lost colony. Realizing that at last he was becoming what his father had wanted all along, Quatre began making plans to return home, to his wives and his family, to his stifling world of respectability and passionless, cold comfort.
Trowa's note dipped and swam in his vision, but this time no tears fell - not for Trowa, or the nameless Omega pilot, or the unborn Winner heir, or even for himself. Tears were for those with no future; it could not be helped that he had a future when he wanted none, but the amber-eyed man had made his choice, as had Trowa. Quatre must choose as well, and the choice was not one that could be made once and done with, but one that he would have to make every day of his life.
~Owari~
My thanks to everyone who commented on this fic during the ridiculously long time it took me to write it. Special thanks to RavynFyre, Zan, Von, BJ, Meph, Barb, and Arashi-kun, for your comments and support, and extra-special thanks for the medical advice from Akeru and HawkeCrystal, whose brilliant "vitamin pill" idea appears in this story.
This story is humbly dedicated to Zaz, my lovely prereader, to Sea, whose unfailing support made it possible, and to the women and chibi of WIWP.
Yoiko ^_^
Please send comments to: Yoiko