* * *

Heero had awoken the day after they brought him in, somewhat groggy and confused. The doctors had summoned Trowa from Quatre's side. He rushed to Heero's room, and immediately found Prussian eyes on him. Eyes full of fear, and panic, and guilt, and longing. Trowa had walked slowly to Heero's side, Heero's eyes never leaving him.


And then Heero had spoken. "How's.. Duo?"


Those two words were spoken with such hope, such fear, such emotion, that Trowa choked back on the tears that threatened to spill. He had to avert his eyes, unable to meet those needy blue ones. It hurt too much. It was too similar to the last time. The time when Trowa had had to come in, and be the one to tell Heero about Duo. The tall boy had broken the Japanese boy's heart once, he didn't know if he had the courage to do it again. Heero grabbed his hand, and squeezed it, forcing Trowa to meet his eyes. Trowa did, and he steeled himself against what he had to do.


This might be Heero's undoing, but Trowa couldn't allow Heero to lose himself in the past. "Heero," he began gently, "that wasn't Duo, in that room. You know that. It was Quatre. You know what happened to Duo." Trowa tried to speak as comfortingly as possible, but it didn't help.


Heero's eyes filled with tears, and he could see the heartbreak shining in their blue depths. "So it's true then?" Heero whispered. "I mean I thought.. I hoped that maybe I had dreamed the whole thing. That maybe Duo was hurt, but we could save him. That maybe I hadn't been too late."


Heero's voice dropped to hardly a whisper. "But I knew that wasn't the truth. I just wanted it to be."


Tears flowed down Heero's cheeks, but the room remained silent. Trowa held his friend's hand, and offered him comfort. The same way he had on the actual day he had broken the news to Heero. It was so similar. Trowa's heart stopped. Yes, it was so similar. All of it.


Duo's death, Quatre's near death. True the rooms, the locations were different, but still.. The bodies were in the same places, the blood.. the blood all over the room was the same. No wonder Heero had mistaken it. The scenes had been nearly identical. But.. but how was that possible? Unless.. unless it was.. the same person who attacked them. But that.. that couldn't be? Could it? Who could have done that? And why? And how? Trowa tried to tell himself he was being paranoid, but he knew he wasn't.


The similarities were too obvious. Was someone hunting them down? He looked down at Heero, and saw that the boy had cried himself to sleep. He pulled the blanket up over him, and crept silently from the room. Trowa headed back to Quatre's room to continue his vigil over the blonde boy.


The green eyed boy entered the room, and found his love still laying there, unmoved. He sighed, and curled himself up in the chair next to the bed. He entwined their fingers, and rested his head on the bed. He drifted into a light slumber, ready to awaken at the fist sign of Quatre's movement.

* * *

Onyx eyes glittered in the darkness. Wufei lowered the binoculars, and smiled to himself. "Soon, my little one. Soon you'll be back with me, where you belong."


He packed up his gear, and started his motorcycle. He came every night, and sat in this spot, watching the room that held Quatre. The blonde was under close supervision by Barton, who almost never left his side. But one day Trowa wouldn't be there. One day Quatre would be alone. And that was the day Wufei was waiting for.

* * *

Trowa woke up, surprised he had slept at all. He looked outside, and saw that it was night time. He stood up, and stretched. As he moved around, he had the unnerving feeling that he was being watched. But there was no one around save for him, and Quatre. Trowa walked to the window to look out, but it was too dark to see anything. He needed to go check on Heero, but alarming fear gripped him at the thought of leaving Quatre's side.


It was then that he asked that Heero be moved to Quatre's room. He wanted them to be close by so that he could keep an eye on them both. He sent a message to Wufei, informing him of the situation, and telling him to be careful. The Chinese boy had replied, and told Trowa that he would take care of any missions that came in. Trowa silently thanked him for carrying the burden. There was no way he could leave Quatre's and Heero's side. And no reason that he wanted to.


He could stay here, and focus all his attention on helping Quatre and Heero. Well, almost all his attention. There was still that lingering worry over Iria. She had left the first night, and had yet to return. Two days after her departure, Quatre had received a large bouquet of bright, white gladiolas from her. The card had said that she was called away on hospital business, and she was sorry that she wouldn't be able to get back anytime soon. That should have quelled his worry, but it didn't.


True, he didn't know her very well. He didn't know her at all. But she didn't seem the type to just send flowers, and a note. Trowa thought that she at least would have called, talked to him, something. He had contacted the hospital where she had been working, but they told him that they couldn't release any information to him. He didn't know why he was still bothered by the whole thing. But he was. He tried to chalk it up to being overly cautious, given the circumstances. But something about the whole thing just wasn't sitting right.

* * *

The days drug by, the only thing changing was Trowa's appearance. He was losing weight, and the skin under his eyes was tinted purple from lack of sleep. Quatre never moved. He just laid there. And at times, Trowa could fool himself into thinking that his beloved was only taking a long nap, and that the blonde would wake up any second, and apologize for sleeping so long. But, as he day passed, he didn't.


Then there were the days that Trowa longed to scream at Quatre, to shake him, beg him, anything to bring him back. To stop the screaming in his head and in his heart. But he didn't. He merely sat by Quatre's side, watching the world pass by, as *his* world lay still in the bed before him.  And that's how the hours, the days, the minutes passed. With Trowa standing by. Waiting for a signal, a sign, an anything from Quatre. Waiting for the blonde to wake up, and save him. And wait he would. Until forever.


One particularly bad day Trowa found himself talking aloud. His inner voices had been screaming at him for so long, that combined with the dull silence of the room was threatening to drive him mad. The silence he used to find such solace in was now a prison. Choosing not to speak, and having no one to speak to were vastly different. Guilt overwhelmed him, and the quietness only allowed it to fester, to grow. Until it was all he knew. Until it was able to consume him.


He felt so powerless.. so weak. All this time someone had been hurting Quatre. All this time, and he'd never been able to stop it. What good was he if he was incapable of protecting the one person in the world he pledged his soul to? He hated himself. God, how he hated himself. To know that someone had done this right under his nose. Had the person been watching their house? Waiting for them to leave? And when he ran from Quatre did this person seize the opportunity?


But the doctors.. they had said that this wasn't the first time. That.. that Quatre had been.. that there were signs of, proof of.. Someone had.. touched him... forced him. Taken what should have been magical, and made it ugly. Trowa remembered the guard in the hallway. Had that only been, what, a week ago? It seemed like years. But he remembered it with stunning clarity. The way he had felt at the man's touch. And to know that Quatre had been subjected to that.. and more...


Trowa held Quatre's hand, squeezing it. "Wake up Quatre. Please. Wake up. You don't deserve to die. I do. Let me take your place." He stood up, anger filling him. "Why did this have to happen to you? It should be me. I don't deserve to live. You're so perfect.. I don't deserve you after all I've done. I'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you." He sat back down dejectedly.


"Why do you act like that?"


Trowa looked up, surprised. Heero was staring at him, a look of something akin to anger on his face.


"Wha...what?"


Heero narrowed his eyes. "I asked, why do you act like that?"


"Like what?"


Heero snorted. "Like he's some sort of God. Or some angel. He's not. He's only human. Just like you."


Trowa was taken aback at the underlying anger in Heero's tone. "I.. to me he is," he gazed down affectionately at Quatre, "to me he is perfection."


"Why do you do that, Trowa? Why do you put him on some pedestal? He's not perfect, or even innocent. Not anymore. He hasn't been for a long time."


To hear Heero speak so callously about what had happened to Quatre was more than Trowa could take. Before he knew what he was doing he jumped up, and stalked to Heero's bedside, punching the pilot hard in the face. "How dare you," he whispered, his hands shaking with rage, "how dare you say such things about him. Just.. just because he was.. because someone..." Trowa couldn't talk, his whole body was shaking. With rage, and helplessness, and guilt. "What happened wasn't his fault. Some sick bastard did this to him. And for you to say.. to say that..."


Heero looked shocked, his hand covering the red mark already forming. Trowa ignored him and continued. "It should have been special. For him it should be special. But the doctors," he choked," the doctors said from what they saw it had been happening for some time. He was.. he was torn, and scarred, and," he turned back to Heero, his eyes wide with fury, "and for you to so calmly say he's no longer innocent because some sadistic bastard raped him...," he slumped to the ground. "How could you?" Trowa rocked himself, sobs tearing from his throat.


Heero's eyes were filled with pain. "I.. I didn't know. How could I.. that's not what I meant. I.. I meant he fought with us.. he was in battle, he's seen all the carnage. I.. I never meant. .I..."


Trowa was still sobbing on the floor. "How could you? How could you? How could you leave him? All your fault, all your fault, all your fault..."


Heero stared in disbelief. "Trowa..."


He looked up at Heero, green eyes blood shot, and mirroring inner agony. "I wasn't there.. I couldn't save him."


"I know," Heero replied solemnly, looking away, " I know."


And the silence prevailed as both boys sat, and bore their guilt with heavy hearts.


It was a few days before Trowa broached the subject again. He didn't really mean to, but seeing the bruise on Heero's face had compelled him to apologize.  "Heero," he began nervously.


"Hn."


Trowa twisted his hands in his lap, suddenly feeling awkward.  "I'm sorry. For hitting you. I know you had no idea.. and that you didn't mean it.. I was just.. angry. And you were here, and I took it out on you. And I'm sorry."


Heero grunted. "I probably deserved it. I was being bitter. And everything came out the wrong way," he sighed. "I was never good at putting what I was feeling into words. But you know that.. that I would never say things like that about Quatre."


Trowa sighed. "I know. But I was so confused, and lost. And I felt so guilty...and I took it the wrong way."


Heero nodded. Trowa smiled slightly, and Heero looked down at his hands. "What.. what I meant to say.. was that Quatre is only human. He's only a person, and he has flaws." Heero chuckled to himself. "Although sometimes it is hard to see them." He looked at Trowa and sobered up. "But, I see you putting him up on this unreachable pedestal, like he's this untouchable deity that you aren't worthy of. And that won't help him. He needs to know you love him. He can't always be proving that you're worthy. He just.. he just has to know. He *does* know. And he needs you to realize that. He's going to need help. It's going to be hard on him. After.. after what you've told me.. and you treating him like some perfect angel will only add pressure to him. Just.. just love him."


Trowa looked up to see Heero clutching his blankets, his fingers white with the force of his hold. "I.. I acted the same with.. with Duo. Like he was too precious for me to sully with my touch. And I squandered away all that time we could have spent together. I was stupid. And scared. And I paid for it. Don't make the same mistakes I did. You got a second chance. Take it for all it's worth."


Trowa walked over and put a hand on Heero's shoulder. "Ok, we were both wrong. So let's just forget it ever happened."


Heero nodded. The bond they shared, the one forged through battle, and suffering, was strong enough to make words unnecessary.

* * *

The time passed so uneventfully after the first few days, that Trowa didn't realize it was passing at all. Until he looked at the newspaper, and saw they had been in the hospital for two weeks. Quatre hadn't stirred all day. He just laid there, looking so utterly frail, and helpless. And for the millionth time since they'd been there Trowa mentally berated himself. //It should have been you. It should be you lying there, fighting for your life. You said you would protect him. But no, you were weak, and you left him. You don't deserve him.// The inner voice kept going, spewing hateful words at him, causing him to cringe in guilt, and self hate.


Over the last fourteen days it had grown louder, more commanding. It was second only to the voice that screamed for vengeance, for bloodshed. The two warred within his head, offering the only distraction from the constant noise of the machines. Silently he begged Quatre to wake up, to save him from this madness. For the little blonde was the only one who could. But as he looked down, Quatre still did not move. The only sign of life in his body was the steady rise and fall of his chest.


Trowa stood up, and began to pace the room. Trying to ease some of the tension from his body. It didn't work. He walked over to the flowers. They were drooping forlornly, and should probably be thrown out. But Trowa couldn't bring himself to do it. They were the only color in the drab room. And besides if Quatre woke up.. *when* Quatre woke up, he corrected. He'd be delighted to see them. He fingered a bud gently. One of the wilting petals fluttered to the table top. Trowa stared aghast, as it floated down, as if he had committed some serious sacrilege.


He backed away, not wanting to damage any more of the flowers. About three steps back, he stopped and laughed bitterly to himself, as the symbolism hit him. //Those flowers are like Quatre. So beautiful, so eye catching. They make a dreary room seem brighter somehow. Just by their presence. Only you never had the courage to touch those flowers, you merely watched from afar. And now look at you. You're forced to watch as the one beauty in your life wilts away.//


He was startled from his morbid thoughts as Heero began to thrash around on the bed. He ran to the Japanese boy's side, and tried to awaken him, but Heero only continued to flail about. And then he started screaming. Loud, mournful wails. Like his soul was being torn from his chest. And indeed it was.

* * *

The dream had started out so beautifully. Instead of the nightmarish visions of late, this one was tender, and serene. Heero was sitting at his desk, typing furiously on his laptop. If he could finish early, he could sneak downstairs, and from the shadows, watch Duo repair his Gundam. It was cowardly yes, but it was the only way he knew to fulfill the one desire in his heart. His heart. Heero hadn't even been sure he had one. Until the day that a smiling face, sporting the most fathomless violet eyes, had rescued him.


At first he tried to write off the new feelings as gratitude. But even after he returned the favor, those feelings lingered. And grew stronger. He had never known love. He had known war, and pain, and death. And this new emotion scared him more than any of those combined. It was overwhelming, at times it even made him ache. A hurt that could only be cured by one thing. And that was why he tortured himself. Why he hid, and watched the object of his affection from afar.


He was dragged away from his line of thought, by a cough at his door. He whirled around, and was rendered speechless. There he stood. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen. And he looked even more desirable, standing there. Twirling the end of his braid around his fingers nervously. Duo wasn't looking at him, his eyes were locked on the floor, denying Heero the small pleasure of their warmth. Trying to deny the sudden rapidness of his heart beat, Heero merely gazed at the boy, as stone faced as ever.


Duo walked into the room slowly, as if he was worn out. His slight shoulders were slumped, in fact his whole body seemed to be weary. "I'm tired Heero," he said quietly. Heero nodded, thinking Duo was telling him good night. He was a little more than surprised when Duo continued. "I'm tired of hurting.. tired of being uncertain..." Heero was confused. Uncertain of what? Of the war, of his life? Duo still wasn't looking at him. He just continued to talk in a whispered tone. "I want.. answers. I need them. I can't go on like this. I.. I have to know."


Then the American looked up at him, violet eyes finally meeting cobalt. Heero was trapped in the gaze, and had no will to escape. For now, for this one-second in time, he wanted to surrender. To drown in those liquid, amethyst pools. And then Duo said the one thing, that Heero had never thought possible. "I.. I love you Heero," he said in a voice hardly above a whisper.


Heero sat there, wide eyed, in stunned silence. Duo, his Duo, the one thing he'd been needing for so long was saying.. saying that he felt the same? Heero sat there as every emotion surged through his body. Wanting, needing to whisper those words back. But they refused to be spoken. His own feelings were so locked away that he couldn't free them. Not even for his love.


Duo nodded, more to himself than Heero. He had taken Heero's silence as his answer. And the thing that finally got to Heero was the look on Duo's face. Like Duo had been expecting this, knowing how it would turn out. But his spirit had compelled him to speak anyway. His bravery tore at Heero, making the blue eyed pilot only love him that much more. Duo turned, and moved toward the door.


Heero watched the retreating figure, and involuntarily he jumped up, and strode over to him. Before he knew what he was doing, he grasped Duo's arm, and stopped him. Duo turned to face him, and saw the confusion on Heero's face. Saw him trying to fight, internally warring with himself. The violet eyes lit up. They shone clear with hope, and longing, and.. love. Against such a force Heero's defenses fell, and his heart was freed to be given to the vision before him. Gently, calloused fingers took Duo's face into those work hardened hands. The American's skin felt so soft under the rough pads of his fingers. Heero caressed that face, and fell into those eyes, as he whispered,


"I.. I love you too."


Duo's eyes widened, as shock transformed his features. As if this was the last thing he expected Heero to do. Slightly embarrassed, and unsure, Heero dropped his hands. It was then that Duo closed the gap between them, and pressed his lips to Heero's. Duo's lips were soft and pliant as they met his own. Heero felt that any moment his heart was going to burst from his chest. It seemed to be swelling, growing, filling with love. And for the first time he truly felt fulfilled. Whole. Like Duo was the part of him he needed to be completed.


And there was no more pain. Only love. Duo pulled back, his lips slightly swollen, eyes dark with passion. Heero's breath caught in his throat at the sight. If he had ever seen anything more beautiful, he couldn't remember it.


Duo looked at him seriously. "Heero. I want.. I want you. I want to be yours. Heart. Soul. And.. body." Duo blushed at that last word.


Heero brushed his fingers across those pink cheeks. "Are you sure?" Heero asked, " I mean are you ready for that?"


Duo nodded slowly. "Yes. I might die tomorrow, and I want at least one chance to be with you. To know that.. that for at least one night, I was yours."


Heero pulled him close, shivering at the ominous undertones in Duo's voice. "You're mine forever," he said fiercely.


Duo melted against him. Actually, he seemed to slump against him. Heero felt a warmth seeping into him through his shirt. He looked in Duo's eyes. Duo's now lifeless eyes. And lowered his body to the floor. It was then that he noticed the gun in his hands. And the wound spilling forth blood in Duo's stomach. And then that he screamed.

* * *

Heero thrashed around on his bed, screaming no! no! Trowa shook him, yelled at him, slapped him. Nothing helped. Heero continued to scream bloody murder. His heart monitor started to beep erratically as his pulse rate skyrocketed. His jerky movements threatened to tear all the tubes from his arms. He began panting, as if breathing was a chore. And he just kept screaming. Trowa leaned over him, trying to shake him awake. Heero, feeling threatened, lashed out, and hit Trowa square in the chest.


Not expecting this, he fell backward, and slammed his head into the railing on Quatre's bed. Stars exploded before his eyes, and everything blurred for a second. Trowa tried to get up, but dizziness overwhelmed him. He struggled against it, trying to pull himself up, and yelling for help. Finally a nurse rushed in, to see what was going on. She turned pale, and raced from the room. A few seconds later she returned with a doctor.


He took one look at Heero, and stuck a needle full of something into his arm. A minute or so later, he quieted. His breathing returned to normal, and his pulse rate slowed. Trowa sighed in relief, but winced at the pounding in his head. The doctor helped him to his feet, and supported him as he wobbled.


He looked Trowa over critically. "I think you may have a concussion young man. Let's get you to an examining room, and I'll check you out."


Trowa stood firm, albeit swaying. "I'm not leaving them."


The doctor sighed. "It won't do anybody any good if you pass out. Now quit fussing and follow me."


Trowa was about to protest further, when another wave of dizziness swept through him, and he was forced to lean on the doctor, or fall. The tall boy sighed, and looked at his friends. //It will just be for a few minutes. Surely they'll be safe for that long.// He nodded, and followed the doctor out of the room.


Neither noticed the flickering of Quatre's eyelids.

* * *

It was so dark, and the screaming. The screaming. It was enough to tear his heart out. He wanted to reach out to that poor soul, and comfort them. Give them the security he had been denied. He fought through the thickness once again. He hadn't wanted to. It was so comforting. A warm, dark blanket, void of fear, or pain, or anything. It was like a womb, being reborn, feeling safe, and sheltered from the world. And he didn't want to leave. Some part of him knew he was being selfish. That he was hurting others. He could feel it.


But fighting through the darkness was too hard. Until he heard the screams. The wails that cut through the blackness, and straight into him. They gave him the strength to fight. Willed him with the need to protect. So he fought. He worked through the darkness, leaving behind the security of not feeling. He moved toward the lightness, and he felt the pain coming back. It was blinding. It invaded his every nerve, flooded his senses. But he pushed on, the screaming urging him to hurry.


And finally he was there. He knew it, could feel it. He felt every broken bone, every piercing labored breath, every bruise, and cut. He tried to move, but canceled that idea, as the pain almost forced him to pass out. It was an effort just to open his eyes. It felt as if each eyelid weighed as much as Sandrock. But he cracked them open, and cringed as the light hit them.  After being submerged in darkness for so long, the light seemed unusually harsh. He blinked trying to get his eyes to focus. The room, the world, seemed to be a hazy mass.


All he wanted to do was succumb back into the cocoon. The screaming had stopped. All that remained was an eerie silence. Broken only by a faint beeping. It was then that he became aware of the numerous tubes stuck in him. He almost choked against the one down his throat, but forced himself to relax, and adjust to it. He was so sore, inside and out. And it was a struggle to stay awake. But he struggled. He fought until his vision cleared, and the room came into focus.


He saw the stark walls of what could only be a hospital. Saw all the tubes running from him to various machines. Saw Heero in the bed not far from his. //H-Heero? What happened? Why are we here?// And then in a flash, everything came slamming back to him. Wufei. Duo. weakness. sacrifice. love. Trowa. death. Trowa. His eyes frantically searched for the tall boy. But he wasn't there.


He spotted a vase full of gladiolas on his bedside table. He looked at them in confusion. Everyone in his family was allergic to them. But maybe someone else had sent them. Maybe.. maybe they were from Trowa. He mentally shook himself. //Wasn't this enough? Are you still stupid, even after all this? Why do you insist on harboring feelings for him? Didn't Wufei teach you anything? You are nothing now. Less than that. You gave up all rights to Trowa when you accepted Wufei's bargain. You must never forget that.//


And even as he told himself that, that was all he wanted to do. Forget. Just pretend none of this had ever happened. Retreat back into the murkiness of unconsciousness, and dream that his life was perfect. That he and Trowa had a chance. That he had a chance. He closed his eyes, whether in fatigue, or submission he refused to acknowledge. He closed them hoping to once again shut the world out. It didn't work. He found he could no longer reside in the warmth of denial. He opened his eyes. There standing at the foot of his bed was the vision of his nightmares.


"Hello, Quatre. I've come to take you home."

* * *

Trowa awoke the next day with a splitting headache. He was forcefully being shaken awake by an ashen faced doctor. He sat up groggy, and disoriented. Where was he? Why was he in this strange bed? He shook his head, trying to clear away the fuzziness, but realized that was a mistake, as his head began to pound more ferociously.


The doctor was still shaking him, rambling on about something. "--And the night nurses, there were only two, were found this morning. They're still very shaken up, they have no idea what happened. And the cameras for this entire floor went out. Nobody saw anything. Your friend was sedated, as were you, so that's no help..."


Trowa grabbed the doctor's arm, to stop the man from shaking him anymore. He finally got a good look at the doctor. The man looked frantic. Something about that look made Trowa's blood run cold. He gripped the doctor's arm. "What the hell are you talking about?"


The doctor took a deep breath. "Your friend. Quatre. He's... missing."


~~~~~

tbc.