The two boys entered the safehouse solemnly. It had taken all of Heero's strength just to get Trowa back here. He had finally caught up with HeavyArms as he reached the location of their mission. They had both been a little shocked to find the entire area deserted. There had been no mobile suit factory, in fact there had been nothing. Just a flat, desolate plain. He doubled checked the coordinates, but they were at the right spot.
And that bothered him. Why would someone send them here? But he didn't have time to worry about that. Trowa was refusing to exit HeavyArms, and he wouldn't switch on his com link either. Finally Heero had had to leave Wing Zero, and climb up to the cockpit himself. What he found there surprised him. Trowa was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was swollen. And he was shaking. Heero tried to comfort him, but Trowa just tuned him out.
Now matter how Heero threatened or cajoled, Trowa refused to move. He said he'd just sit there and die. Quatre didn't want him, so what was the use? He'd rather rot away in some barren field. After all other methods failed, Heero posed the question that had been on his mind. Who the hell sent us out here? And why? And it was as if a light came on in Trowa. He looked up, with fear evident in his eyes. As they looked at each other, the realization dawned on them. Someone had wanted them gone.
Why they had wanted the two of the out here was a mystery, since they seemed to be in no danger. So it must have something to do with one of the other pilots. They mutually agreed that they should check on the others. Heero went back to Wing Zero and the two took off. Trowa debated with himself the whole time. //I'll just go, and check on Quatre. I'll just see that he's all right. And then I'll leave.// Quatre didn't want to see him, and Trowa would honor that, although it would be the hardest thing he had ever done. He followed Heero back, as dread knotted his stomach.
When they finally arrived back at the house, Trowa refused to go into the bedroom to see Quatre. He asked Heero to inform the blonde that he was here, and if Quatre was all right with it Trowa would check on him, and leave. Heero glared at him, clearly thinking that Trowa was acting childish, but the taller boy wasn't backing down. The Japanese boy sighed, and hobbled to the bedroom. He swung the door open, and his eyes widened at the scene that unfolded before them.
It was that night again. Instead of seeing the ratty, old bed he saw the gleaming four poster one, and instead of the warped, wood floors, he saw the highly polished ones, and instead of the little blonde, he saw his lover. He was transported back to his and Duo's room, the night Duo had died. It was the same, it was all the same. The blood, so much blood.
"No.."
He fell to his knees, his legs unable to support him. He saw the body on the floor. It was Duo, sprawled out, coated in blood. He couldn't deal with this. Not again. He whimpered, and curled up into a ball. He began to sway back and forth. "Make it go away," he whispered, "make it go away." He kept chanting to himself, his eyes never leaving the macabre sight before him, and at the same time, never seeing it.
Trowa had been leaning against the wall, trying not to get his hopes up. He shut his eyes, willing them not to tear up again. How was it that one person could affect him like this? Why did he feel like Quatre had ripped his heart out? He was just a soldier, a nameless fighter, who wasn't meant to live to see the final battle, let alone form any sort of romantic relationship. He would do good to remember that. //Quatre was right. It wasn't meant to be. I was stupid to think that I could ever have that kind of love.//
His control faltered, and a shiny, crystalline tear rolled down his cheek. //But I did think it, didn't I? I thought that Quatre was my soulmate. That I had finally found the one person in the entire world that could make me whole.// Another tear followed the first, and then another, until they were steadily running down his face. //Oh, Quatre. I love you so much.// He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It wouldn't be right for him to see Quatre in this state. He tried to compose himself.
That's when he realized how long it had been. Heero had been in there for a while. Trowa decided to creep down the hallway, to see if he could ascertain what was going on. He saw the bedroom door open, and Heero shaking in it. Instantly his chest tightened. He didn't want to see what was on the other side of that door. But as if of their own accord, his feet carried him forward. And when he entered the room his blood ran cold. //This is just another nightmare. This isn't real, this isn't real.//
He saw his little Quatre lying nude, and motionless in the center of the room. //This isn't real. No, this can't be real.// His breath caught in his throat. He ran to Quatre, and knelt by his side. Tentatively he reached out and touched a bruised, crimson shoulder. And he knew that this was not dream. This was real, this was true, this was..
"Quatre!" came the anguished cry.
With trembling hands he delicately rolled Quatre onto his back. He gasped as the full extent of the Arabian's injuries came into view. His pale hair was matted down with blood, which was still dripping from the gash on his temple. His creamy skin was completely covered with bruises, and welts. Some appeared to be older than others. And they covered his entire frame. From neck to legs he was black, and blue. And his face was swollen. There were long, thin cuts across the expanse of his stomach. And his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw.
Trowa reached out, and smoothed some of the tangled hair out of Quatre's eyes. He looked so peaceful. Like he had already traveled to the heavens. Trowa latched on to a limp hand, entwining their fingers. "Please Quatre. Wake up. Don't leave me here. Wake up." But Quatre didn't stir. Trowa ran his fingers over Quatre's cheeks, grazing the rising wounds. He released Quatre's hands, and lightly shook the blonde's shoulders.
"Please wake up. I'm sorry that I left you. I'm so sorry. Just wake up." Tears rolled down from those suffering green eyes. They dropped onto the abused skin, and intermingled with the blood. Trowa knew Quatre wasn't going to awaken. This wasn't some sick joke, or even some gruesome nightmare. This was reality. And in reality his Quatre was gone. Trowa had fled, and left Quatre at the mercy of whatever beast had done this to him. //This is all my fault.// He gathered the blonde into his arms, and began to rock them. Oh, God his angel was dead. //You're gone, and it's all my fault. I couldn't save you.//
He hugged Quatre's frail body closer. As if trying to transfer life into it. He pleaded to every deity he knew of to spare his love. Trowa offered up his own life as a replacement. But they shunned him. //This is all my fault. I deserve this punishment, but not Quatre. He never deserved this.// He cradled his precious bundle closer, vowing to never let go. He looked at the ethereal face, now defiled by bruises, but beautiful nonetheless. And he decided that if Quatre was dead, then he would join him. "I'll never let you go, my love. I want to die here in your arms. Wait for me, I'll be with you soon."
Delicately, as if he would break he pulled Quatre's slack frame to him, and placed a tender kiss on those cracked, bloodied lips. It was only then did he comprehend that the Arabian was breathing. It was so shallow, it wasn't even noticeable, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was breathing. He was alive, but barely. Trowa's heart stopped. He thought he had imagined it. But as he watched, the blonde's chest unsteadily rose, and fell. He began to shake so badly, he had to lower Quatre back to the floor.
He started to breathe heavily, so afraid that if he moved he would break the spell, and Quatre would be lifeless again. But as the blonde continued with his labored breaths, Trowa knew he had been given a second chance. And he wasn't going to waste it. He jumped up, and ran to Heero. In his torment over Quatre, he had completely forgotten about the Japanese boy.
Heero was still balled up in the doorway wobbling, and whispering to himself. "Make it go away," he pleaded.
Trowa knelt in front of him, and shook him roughly. "Heero."
But Heero didn't respond, didn't seem to see him. He had gone into a catatonic state. And no matter what Trowa said, Heero paid no attention. At seeing Quatre his mind had relived Duo's death, and it wasn't something he could deal with. So he reverted in a trance like state, willing the horrors in front of him to disappear. He saw Trowa, but his brain didn't register it.
Trowa looked back at Quatre. Heard his breathing become grating, and knew they had very little time. He slapped Heero's face, but Heero just continued his riveted gaze at Quatre's prone form. Trowa gave up. He went back to Quatre and squeezed his hand.
"Please don't leave me Quatre. I'll save you. Just hold on. For me."
Then he took off running. He went out the front door, and ran straight to the truck parked in front of the house. He offered silent thanks to whomever allowed them this one little break. He unlocked it, and started it up. Then he ran back into the house, and grabbed the blanket off the couch. He returned to the bedroom, and wrapped Quatre in it. That was first time Trowa noted the condition of the room. There were little pools of blood drying on the floor. And bloody hand prints scattered across the wall. The bed was bloodstained, and ripped up. And there were severed pieces of rope at the base of the desk chair.
Whomever had done this to his Quatre, had been methodical, and they had taken their time. And when Trowa found them, he would pay them back tenfold.
Then Trowa picked up his broken love, and carried him to the waiting car. He placed Quatre on the seat, trying not to jar his already damaged body. He fastened the seat belt around him, praying it didn't injure him further. Then he went back inside, and squatted by Heero.
The dark haired boy was still whispering to himself. Trowa drew in a deep breath, and hauled the boy over his shoulder. He carried him to the car, and placed him next to Quatre, buckling him in as well. Then he climbed in, positioning the blonde between them. He took off, and they sped to the nearest town. They were about twenty miles from the city, and Trowa knew they didn't have a minute to spare. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and raced along the road. They reached the edge of the city in ten minutes. He spotted a blue hospital sign, and followed it until he saw the large complex coming up on his right.
The tires shrieked as he spun the wheel, and drove the truck into the ambulance unloading area. Some of the drivers yelled at him, that he was in the wrong spot, but one look from Trowa and they shut their mouths. He put the car into park, and jumped out, screaming that his friends needed help. One of the drivers ran inside, and returned with a gurney, and a horde of doctors and nurses. Trowa undid Quatre's seat belt, and pulled him out cautiously. He laid Quatre on the bed, and watched as the group rolled his love off, and the mob was swallowed by the building.
With a dull ache in his heart and terror in his mind, he rushed to Heero's side, and pulled him out too. He placed him on the other waiting bed, and followed the group inside. He saw the doctors pushing Quatre's gurney into one of the operating rooms. He ran to the doors, as they swung shut. A crowd of nurses were gathered in front, blocking his view. "Quatre! Quatre!" He tried to push past the nurses at the door, but they held him back. "Goddamn you! Let me in! That's my.. He's my..."
Trowa kept struggling, desperate to learn what was happening to Quatre. But as his helplessness hit him, he slumped down. He sagged to his knees, shoulders quaking with repressed sobs. "Please tell me he'll be all right," he choked.
One of the nurses knelt beside him, and put her arm around his shoulders. She was dismayed to see that the boy's clothes were covered in blood. She helped him to his feet. "Why don't you go, and fill out his paperwork. There's nothing you can do."
Trowa nodded brokenly as he wandered to the nurse's stand to get the required papers. He filled each one out diligently, as if the menial task could help him forget what was happening. He filled out Heero's too. He finished them, and returned them to the nurse on duty. Trowa went back to his seat, and hung his head in shame. //I said I'd die for you Quatre. And yet, when you needed me, I wasn't there for you. If you die, then I'll never forgive myself. But I won't have to worry, love, because if you leave then I'm following you. Please don't leave without me.// Then he succumbed fully to his breaking heart, and cried.
He sat there for what felt like days, his grief consuming him. He saw numerous doctors and nurses coming and going from Quatre's room. He could hear the beeping of the machines they had him hooked to. Each time one of them sounded, his heart constricted. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. His head snapped up, and he looked into the eyes of a sympathetic doctor.
"Are you with the boy they brought in earlier?" he asked.
Trowa nodded frightened. "Is.. is.. Quatre going to be all right?"
Trowa held his breath, fearing the worst. The doctor looked at the chart in his hand. "Quatre? No, I was talking about Heero Yuy. Are you with him?"
Trowa let his breath out dejectedly, and nodded. His eyes strayed back to Quatre's noisy room.
The doctor noticed this, and placed a hand comfortingly on his arm. "They're doing the best they can."
Trowa nodded again, knowing if he spoke the tears would start. //Their best isn't good enough. They have to save him. They *have* to.//
The doctor cleared his throat, and continued. "As to Mr. Yuy, he should be fine. He is suffering from tremendous shock right now, I'm assuming from seeing your friend in the condition he was in. We've got him sedated, and he should be better when he wakes up. But the mind is a tricky thing, and we won't know anything for certain until he wakes up. He can't have visitors right now, but he's sleeping so it wouldn't matter."
Trowa nodded. The doctor sighed, and headed up to the nurse's desk. He examined the file on Quatre, hoping to have some news for the stoic boy sitting there. He was surprised at the last name. He walked back to Trowa. "You're friend, Quatre, isn't Quatre Winner from L4, is he?"
Trowa looked up, and nodded.
"His sister, Iria, is in the next city doing some research work for the hospital there. She's a doctor, you know."
Trowa shook his head. He didn't know much about Quatre's sisters, except that he had a lot of them.
"Since she's his next of kin, I'll notify her immediately."
Trowa nodded to show he'd understood, and then dropped his eyes back to the floor, effectively dismissing the doctor. The doctor walked away, shaking his head. That strange boy was really taking this hard; he wondered what Quatre Winner meant to him.
* * *
Trowa *was* taking it hard. The thought that he maybe could have prevented this from happening to his Quatre kept running through his mind. And he would have given anything to take Quatre's place right now. He put all the blame on himself. The constant hum of the machines was like the beating of the tell-tale heart. Each beep cut further into his soul, and made him sink deeper into depression.
It had been five hours since they had brought Quatre in, and he'd heard nothing as to his condition. He felt so useless. Quatre needed him, and he couldn't do anything. It was killing him. Just then, a tall woman with short, honey colored hair rushed up to the nurse's stand. She began frantically talking to the nurse on duty. He saw the nurse pull out a chart, and the woman scanned it. Then she asked a question, and the nurse pointed to him. She turned around, and fixed a piercing gaze on him. Trowa felt that the woman could see right through him.
Then the nurse led her to the room Quatre was in, and she disappeared inside. Trowa looked down at his attire, and finally saw just how bad he looked. His shirt, and pants were stained all over with the Arabian's blood. As were his hands. He wandered to the closest bathroom, and tried to scrub off as much as he could. But it didn't help. The only thing that could truly purify him was Quatre. He sighed and gave up, returning to his seat just outside Quatre's room.
He saw the woman from earlier sitting there. As he approached, she stood. She looked him up, and down, her brow knitted in anger. When he reached her, her hand shot out, and she slapped him hard across the cheek. "You bastard," she hissed.
Trowa's visible eye widened, and his hand went to touch the stinging flesh. He knew this was Quatre's sister. And he knew he deserved her spite. "I'm sorry," he whispered not meeting her eyes.
"So, you admit it then," she said, her voice full of loathing.
Trowa looked at her, wincing at the hate burning from her eyes.
"I should kill you for what you did to my brother."
He looked at her confused, and then it dawned on him. //Oh, my God. She thinks that I did that to Quatre! And why shouldn't she? I mean I'm standing here covered in his blood. And she's right in a way. I didn't hit him, but I didn't protect him either.// The green eyed boy slumped into a chair, and placed his head in his hands. "I.. I.. didn't do that to him. We found him that way. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't save him," he murmured.
She laughed bitterly. "And you expect me to believe that? You're sitting there covered in blood. *His* blood. What happened? Did he say no? And you wouldn't take that as an answer? I see you have a bruise on your face. Did he try to fight back? Is that why you tried to beat him to death? How long has then been going on? It's been a while, hasn't it? Some of those marks are at least a week old."
She grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Tell me, you bastard. Tell me why you did that to Quatre. He wouldn't hurt anyone, so why did you?"
"I.. I didn't. I had no idea..."
"Shut up. You make me sick. And I'll see to it that you'll get exactly what you deserve. I hope someone does to you what you did to my brother."
He looked up at her, his green eyes filled with pain. "If I could take his place I would. Gladly."
He spoke with such honesty, that she looked taken aback for a second. But she quickly regained her composure. She continued to stare at him, as if trying to read his mind.
Trowa felt unnerved under that glare. He looked back down. "I.. I.. would *never* hurt Quatre. He.. I.. he.. means.. everything to me."
The last part was said so quietly, that Iria had to strain to hear it. Her eyes narrowed. "So, you wanted him so much that you forced yourself on him, is that it? You wanted to claim him. And when he said no, you tried to kill him."
Trowa's head shot up. "No!" he yelled arduously, "I would never force Quatre to do anything."
"So, you weren't the one who raped him."
He looked at her, his face stricken. He tried to speak, but no words would come out. //Quatre. Somebody... raped... oh, no! Not Quatre. Why.. but.. not Quatre. He never did anything. He.. oh, Quatre! This is all my fault. How could I let this happen to you?//
Iria watched the boy in front of her, as he struggled to deal with what she had just said. She saw the horror, and disbelief that was written on his face. She wondered if she had made a mistake. And she questioned if this was the person who had attacked her brother. It was the way he was reacting. Nobody could fake shock like that. She reached out, and touched his arm. Trowa looked at her, his eyes grief laden. "I thought you knew. I thought you were the one who.. But you aren't are you?"
Trowa shook his head mutely. Too overcome to speak. //I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to die for you, to shelter you from harm. And I failed. And yet, you still told me you loved me. Even after all that, you loved me. I'm so sorry...// Trowa collapsed, and started to cry again. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly, over and over again.
Iria knew he was being sincere. And she knew that this boy was more than a friend to her brother. She pulled him close, and let him sob on her shoulder. "You love my brother, don't you." She could feel him nodding. "Did you ever tell him?"
He pulled back, and looked at her, his eyes red rimmed, and swollen. "Yes, Just yesterday. And he said.. he said.. he loved me too," he whispered hoarsely.
Iria smiled at him sadly. "I'm sure he does."
Trowa looked at her gratefully. He reached out, and held her hand. "Thank you. By the way, my name is Trowa."
She looked a little astonished. "*You're* Trowa? I've heard a lot about you. I'm Iria."
"You have?"
She smiled again. "Yes, Quatre talks about you all the time. Or he did. I haven't talked to him in months. He used to go on and on about you. I'm glad.. I'm glad that you feel the same way. He really loves you."
Trowa wiped away his tears, and squeezed her hand. He looked at her intensely. "I'm going to find the bastard who did this, and I'm going to kill him. That's a promise."
Iria shivered. He had said that with such deadly calmness, and she knew that he meant it. She could sense that this boy was serious. But instinctively she knew he would never hurt Quatre. Trowa stared off towards Quatre's room. His eyes taking on a fierce gleam. //Yes, my Quatre. I promise you that. Whomever hurt you will pay dearly. For every mark on you, they'll get ten. I'll kill them for this. I'll never let anyone hurt you again.//
* * *
Quatre was fighting the darkness. It was all around him, pushing him from all sides, urging him to give up. And yet he fought it. He waded through it like some thick marsh. And every time it became too much, and he wanted to surrender to it, some invisible force propelled him forward. There was no light, only the pressing blackness. Quatre felt nothing. Neither pain, or comfort, sadness or joy. Just the urgent need to resist the surrounding gloom. He waded through it, searching for the end of it, never knowing if he would reach it.
He could feel himself sinking, being sucked into that eternal dimness. And he struggled, but to no avail. It was too strong. It pulled him down into its pits. But as he yielded to it, he felt lighter. Like he was floating in some misty dream world. And suddenly he was jarred into a new setting. One he was frighteningly familiar with.
Quatre was back at one of his mansions. How he had arrived there was a mystery. But as he walked up the flight of steps, he knew why he was there. He reached the top of the staircase, and headed down the hall. He stopped in front of the partially opened door. He didn't have to go in, he already knew what was going to happen, but that force drove him through the doorway. To the nightmare that was playing out on the other side.
Quatre entered, and yes, it was all the same. The beautiful, polished four poster bed. The waxed hardwood floors. The blood everywhere. The boy in the center of the room, whose life was about to be cut short. The boy was kneeling there, his long chestnut hair unbound, and swirling around him. His black ensemble torn, and spattered with blood. Quatre looked into that tormented face, Duo's face, and tried to run forward, to stop the events which would alter their lives forever.
But his legs wouldn't move. He was rooted to the spot, forced to watch everything happen again. But he knew that he had to. He stared at Duo's face raptly, those violet orbs standing out more against the red smears on his face. The blood in the room seemed to multiply, flowing until it obscured all else. But Quatre still saw the gun being raised. He screamed as the realization of what was going on hit him. Finally noticing the audience, Duo locked eyes with Quatre. Pain filled violet met with horrified blue-green.
And Duo had spoken. "Take care of Heero for me Quatre. I love him you know."
There was a snarl and the gun fired, and Duo slumped over. Quatre, no longer restrained, ran to Duo's side, cradling the boy's body in his arms. Wufei stood over the pair, the gun held firmly in his hand. He reached out, and yanked Quatre back, forcing him to release Duo.
Wufei knelt, and turned Duo over, the boy's life blood coursing out, and soaking everything around it. The Chinese boy wrapped Duo's warm fingers around the gun. Quatre sat there, clothes crimson colored, eyes glassed over. He felt Wufei's warm breath on his neck, heard his voice whispering in his ear. "Well, little Quatre, you know my secret. I guess I'll have to kill you."
Deep in shock, Quatre couldn't speak. Then he felt the wetness of Wufei's tongue, as it slid along his ear. He tried to move away, but Wufei gripped him tightly. "I've always liked you, Quatre. And I've wanted you for the longest time. If you promise to be mine, then I'll let you live. For now."
Quatre struggled against him, feeling dirtied by his touch. "I think I would prefer death."
Wufei released him. "Fine, it is after all, your choice. I would have enjoyed you, but I'm sure I'll find another toy to amuse myself with. Perhaps Yuy, or maybe one of your lovely sisters. You have so many, one won't be missed. Or Barton."
Quatre turned to face him, eyes wide with fear. Wufei noticed this, and continued. "Yes, Barton I think. I would love to make him scream in pain. To break that emotionless mask."
Quatre's heart constricted. He couldn't let that happen to Trowa, or anybody. He knew what saving them would cost him, and he was terrified. But he knew that he had to do it. For Trowa's sake.
Wufei saw the fight leave Quatre's eyes, and knew that the Arabian would surrender to him. "Or, you could submit to me, and I would promise to spare them."
"If I do.. you would promise not to hurt him? And you would honor that?"
"Yes, My word is my honor, I would never go back on it. As long as you are mine."
Quatre merely nodded. //Forgive me, Trowa. I will no longer be innocent for you. I will no longer be worthy of you. But I couldn't bear to think of this happening to you. Not when I can save you.// To save his loved one's Quatre turned himself over to Wufei. They sealed the bargain with the blood of Quatre's virginity.
Quatre felt the rough hands on him, all over him, the pain. He struggled against it. He wanted to change his destiny. He fought Wufei, and broke free, running from the house. He shoved through the mist, and clawed through the darkness. And then, and then he felt. He felt the pain the consumed his entire body. The throbbing of his head, the fire in his chest, and every bruise and scar. And the slight squeezing of his hand. He opened his eyes, squinting at the blinding light.
One beautiful emerald eye came into focus, and that was all he needed to see. Quatre met that eye before passing back out.
* * *
When Quatre opened his eyes to look at him, Trowa had found he couldn't breathe. It was as if, the sun had broken through the clouds, and shed golden light upon the world. It had been for only a few seconds, but that was enough. Quatre had been in surgery for ten hours. Trowa and Iria had sat together, and attempted to seek solace from one another. And finally, one very weary doctor had approached them. He had said that Quatre's prognosis wasn't good. He had lost a lot of blood, and his injuries were extreme. They had repaired all they could, and now all they could do was wait.
Trowa wanted to jump up screaming that all they had been doing was waiting, but Iria held him back. The doctor had said that the next twenty-four hours would be crucial. And that after they had passed, they would have a better idea of Quatre's diagnosis. The doctor had also told them that Quatre was in a coma, and there was the possibility he would never wake up. Iria had gasped, and began to cry. It was the final blow.
Trowa stood there feeling ultimately powerless. //No, Quatre will wake up. He.. he.. has to. And if.. if he.. doesn't? What.. what will I do?// Trowa felt a little piece of his fragile soul shatter. The thought of losing Quatre hurt so badly. The nurse showed them to Quatre's room, where they maintained a constant vigil. She promised to notify him when Heero woke up.
And there he sat, the whole time wondering what he would do if Quatre didn't wake up. And what he could have done to prevent this. And mostly why someone would want to harm Quatre of all people. //Quatre never willing hurt anyone. He always tried to let people surrender. He never wanted to shed blood. And yet, here he is. It should have been me. I should be lying here. What did he ever do to deserve this? It just.. it just doesn't make sense. And what.. what if he doesn't wake up. What will I do?// He gripped Quatre's hand like a lifeline. And to him it was. For without Quatre, he didn't have a life, a heart, a soul.
Iria watched him the entire time. She sensed his inner turmoil, and it matched her own. //Oh, Quatre. You're my little brother. I'm supposed to protect you. How could someone do this?// They sat there in silence, both lost to their demons. The only sounds in the room were from the numerous machines keeping the blonde alive. Each one vowing not to leave, until their angel woke up.
And when he did, it was as if the heavens had shone upon them. Those blue-green orbs, though dulled with pain, were still magnificent enough to leave them breathless. And though they opened only briefly, they carried with them such hope, it was more than enough. Quatre had caught Trowa's eye, and the tall boy wondered if the blonde was truly a celestial being. And he gazed in awe at this divine creature that had once again managed to save his soul.
After Quatre had gone back to sleep, he and Iria had snuck out for a few minutes. She had to leave, she wanted to get her belongings from her hotel in the other city, and move them here. Quatre would be here for a while, and she wanted to be close by. She had hugged Trowa, and told him she would be back in a few hours. He promised to watch over Quatre. He returned to Quatre's room, and resumed his seat by the bed. //Thank you my angel. Thank you for giving me hope. I'll help you mend your wings. And I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again.//
Iria walked out into the parking lot, the strain of the ordeal finally getting to her. She noticed how empty, and bleak the parking lot seemed at this hour. As she reached her car, she shuffled through her bag for the keys. Then she heard a voice behind her.
"Hello, Iria."
That was the last thing she heard, before a sharp pain erupted at the base of her head, and her world turned to black.
~~~~~
tbc. |