Everyone seemed genuinely concerned over the extent of his wounds. They suggested he meet with Sally or go to a hospital nearby to get himself checked out, but stubbornly he refused. To him, these were merely scratches. They would heal in no time and he would be back to finish a mission he had sworn to get accomplished no matter what came his way.
As usual, no one seemed to be paying him much attention as he tried to make them see that he really didn’t need their help. He tried to rise to his feet, the sickening smell of grass and manure assailing his senses as he staggered weakly. He would walk all the way to the base and launch the final explosives if need be. He took a shaking step forward and groaned as the deep gash on his side made its presence known again.
/Fuck!/
And why in hell’s name was everything looking so blurry now?
The buildings weren’t too far away. They had about twenty minutes to accomplish their mission. He could still do it. He could walk up to that building and…
“Don’t even think about it, buddy,” came the familiar voice of the American, which at this point in time only did more to aggravate the injured teen.
“Don’t try to stop me, Duo,” he gasped out weakly as he held up the small control button that was almost slipping from fingers that trembled violently. “I can…I can handle it…”
He couldn’t even get himself to finish his sentence as soothing darkness washed over and sent him crashing to the earth in a dead faint.
Startled gasps and curses escaped the other pilots’ lips as Trowa fell to his knees to see just how badly the wounds were. His frown deepened as he eyed the deep cut in Heero’s left ribcage. The Japanese boy’s right shoulder was also twisted at an odd angle and Trowa knew without a doubt that it must have happened when he was trying to open up the steel door that had once held them prisoners less than an hour ago.
Heero really has no concerns over his health or well being when it comes to missions, he thought a bit angrily. Does he really not care at all?
“What are we going to do now?” Wufei interrupted curtly as he eyed the chaotic OZ base a few miles away from them. “They are bound to find us soon and we have to get out of here!”
“I’ll take Wing with me,” Duo offered quickly. “But we need someone who can take him to a hospital or at least away from here…”
The low sounds of dogs barking shot through their frazzled nerves as they all jerked alert.
/Shit./ Things weren’t looking good at all.
Duo growled softly and turned panicked eyes to the rest of his teammates. “Who’s going to…?”
“I’ll take him,” the Arabian cut in with a firm nod as he answered the unfinished question. “I am sure Sandrock and I will be able to make it to the estate on time for him to get some medical attention.”
Trowa eyed him carefully, trying hard not to voice the concern over how reckless this proposition sounded. “Are you sure, Quatre? This might be hard to accomplish, you know. OZ mobile suits are everywhere.”
With a determination that neither of the boys had seen in a long time, the blond gave them a firm nod. “I can do it. I am sure I can make it to the estate in an hour at least. Please give him to me.”
Trowa gave a soft grunt as he hoisted the comatose boy’s arms over Quatre’s shoulders. “You are going to have to run like hell…well as fast as you can, Quatre,” he advised quickly. The barking was growing louder by the second.
“He can do it,” Duo said around a quick smile as he began to make his way towards the thick clump of bushes on his right. “Let’s go, guys!”
Wufei was fast on his heels, quickly followed by Trowa who turned back to watch the disappearing couple on their left. “Be careful, Quatre,” he whispered to himself. “Both of you…”
Quatre felt his steps going slower by the second as he continued to drag the quite heavy teen through the lush foliage. He had long lost the dogs that had been hunting them, but he still had quite a distance to go before finding his carefully hidden gundam.
He stopped to catch his breath, blond locks damp and plastered against his forehead as he wiped away the sweat that threatened to fall into his eyes. He couldn’t afford to stop now. He was sure that some of the mongrels would have caught their scent and would come chasing them soon.
“Hold…on…Heero,” he muttered hoarsely as he began to walk again. “We…are…almost there…”
He could feel Heero’s blood soaking through his shirt and he grimaced in growing worry. How much longer could the Japanese boy last at this rate? Everyone was depending on him to save the Wing pilot’s life. What had possessed him to agree to do this? He couldn’t possibly undertake this life and death task on his own…could he?
Don’t doubt yourself now, he thought with a light shake of his head. “I’ve got to do this before I lose my resolve…” Or strength, his mind taunted. His legs trembled and he almost lost his footing, but that didn’t stop Heero from sliding off his shoulders and falling to the ground with a light ‘thump’.
“Damn it. Heero…come on,” he begged a bit desperately as he settled for tugging on the boy’s wrists and dragging him along the ground. He could make out Sandrock’s metallic gleam a few feet away. And with a loud grunt of much needed strength, he pulled with all his might until Heero was safely nestled against Sandrock’s foot. Quatre slumped against the steady and secure coolness of the machine before starting with a low curse. He couldn’t rest now. He had to get them away from here.
He leapt into the safety of his mobile suit and slumped forward again in complete weariness. He had had a very long day. From their capture by OZ forces to this rescue mission, his body was finally giving in to the demands that had been placed on it. However, he realized that another’s life was on the line and he would have to make it back to safety whether he wanted to or not.
Live for us, Heero, he begged weakly as he reached for the controls that would guide his trusted machine to lift the still teen off the ground. Live…for me…
He opened his eyes to warm sunshine and the sweet smell of freshly picked white roses. His throat felt parched, his body numb as he gazed around his environs warily. The last thing he remembered was trying to destroy the OZ base and then…nothing. For a moment, he had had the sensation of being dragged along the ground and being lifted but that could have all been a hallucination.
Sitting up carefully, he eyed his heavily bandaged arm and placed shaking fingers against his ribcage. That too had been treated and was enclosed in a heavy swaddling of bandages. He wasn’t in a hospital, that much was certain. The large room consisting of the rather large and quite comfortable bed he was sitting in, several high-backed chairs - which were oddly reminiscent of the Sanq kingdoms' - were placed at opposite ends of the room. There were two side tables; each held lamps and flowers that matched the general décor of the room. There were all white. Everything. A blinding white that had Heero falling back amongst the pillows with a low groan.
He stared at the opened French doors that led to a patio with curiosity. He already had an idea of where he might be, but he wanted to know just what had happened to the others. How had he arrived here? Had they survived? Was the mission completed in the end?
A light knock on the door had him sitting up, rather quickly, which in turn ended up being a bad idea as a piercing headache seared through him. He opened up his mouth to say the words ‘Enter’ when the person made himself known.
Rashid Kurama, Quatre’s trusted assistant and head of the Maganacs, stepped into the room with a small polite bow. He was a burly six or easily seven foot Arabian, who might have intimated any one meeting him for the first time.
“If you are awake now,” he began in that familiar gruff voice. “Master Quatre would like to know if you wish to join him for breakfast.”
Heero was about to shake his head in refusal, when his stomach gave a low growl of protest. Unable to stop the dull flush that filled his cheeks, he gave a soft nod and swung his legs off the bed. He was thankful that he had been dressed in a pair of dark blue sweatpants – he guessed it was Quatre’s – that were comfortable despite the slight tightness in the waist area.
Rashid seemed pleased at Heero’s acceptance as he began to lead the way out of the room and towards the dining area.
It was quite a large house, Heero observed as they walked down the long flight of stairs. He wondered just how many estates the blond billionaire had around the world. He wondered how the kind and gentle-hearted pilot could have control over so many things and yet have the sanity to retain his…well…sanity. In fact, Heero was beginning to wonder just why he was asking himself these questions. It wasn’t as if he had gone out of his way to know too much about the Arabian. Quatre has and will always be just another gundam pilot to him. A comrade, no less, but just another pilot who was out to accomplish the same goals.
But that thought seemed to vanish from his mind as he met the radiant smile from the Arabian. Heero was helpless to stop the blush that dusted his cheeks as he stared in mute fascination at the teen. What was that thought about Quatre only being a comrade and nothing else? He knew now, without a doubt, that this seemingly fragile teen had been the very person to bring him here, despite all the danger he must have faced.
“Please sit down, Heero,” the blond invited with a wave of his hand towards the chair opposite him. “I would have loved for us to eat outside, but it’s quite windy today.”
The Wing pilot gave a small nod of understanding as he settled down on the offered chair. He listened absently to the few words of Arabic spoken between Quatre and Rashid as he eyed the small feast assembled on the table. It was a Western style breakfast complete with waffles, toast, some fried eggs, sausages, a glass of milk and orange juice at the side. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen anything this…decadent in his life.
“Is it not to your liking?” Quatre asked softly as he noticed the slightly worried look in the other pilot’s eyes. “I can have them prepare you a Japanese style breakfast if you like…”
“No, no, it’s fine. Thank you,” Heero interrupted with a small smile as he picked up a fork to begin eating.
A comfortable silence fell as they both reveled in the peace and solitude that enveloped them. War raged outside these walls, but in here, there was nothing to give them cause for worry. Quatre ate slowly although he was prone to stealing soft glances now and again at the silent pilot beside him. He had never really had a chance to be this close or alone with Heero before and just being here with him was a blessing in itself.
Somehow, by some miracle, he had managed to maneuver Sandrock back to the estate with hardly any problems at all. A quick word with Rashid and the other Maganacs had seen that Heero was well taken care of. He had given his daily report to Instructor H as he usually did and had turned in for the night. But all he had thought about was the sleeping pilot in the other room. It was true that he was concerned about the other pilots safety at all times, but for some reason, seeing Heero hurt this badly was enough to get him wondering on just where his loyalties lay.
He had always admired Heero, no matter how aloof and introverted the Wing pilot seemed to be. Despite those misgivings, Quatre had seen the undeniable strength and dedication that only did more to inspire him to better himself in whatever way possible. He knew that Heero would never be able to look past him as anything more than a fellow pilot but Quatre hoped he could change that. It might take a while to convince the stoic teen that he could be more than just a comrade. He was determined to show that he could be so much more, no matter how long it took.
“…the mission?”
He blinked and flushed in embarrassment. He had been so lost in his thoughts, he had not heard the question. “What…what did you say?”
Heero popped another sausage into his mouth before asking again. “I wanted to know if you have heard from the others. Did they manage to complete the mission?”
The blond gave a quick nod as he leaned back in his chair. “Trowa called me early this morning. He said that Duo managed to set up the final explosives and the base was destroyed. They are at the hideout right now, but I invited them over here to stay for a while until we get called again.”
This seemed to satisfy the Wing pilot. “That’s good to hear. So what time do you expect them to arrive?”
“I am not really sure,” came the soft reply as Quatre watched a small dribble of oil from the sausage he had just eaten, trail down Heero’s chin. Fighting the insane urge to reach over and wipe it or worse yet lick it off, the blond kept himself firmly in his seat and had to end up watching Heero dart out a tongue to lick it off.
Sweet Allah! What torture.
“I have to send my report to Dr. J,” Heero mumbled more to himself than to his companion, but Quatre had heard.
“There is a computer in the next room. You are free to do whatever you please in there.”
A quick nod and a mumble of ‘Excuse me’, had Heero leaving the blond’s presence in less than two minutes. Quatre sighed softly and picked at his meal a bit sadly. This was beginning to turn into a hopeless cause. Apparently, Duo’s comment the other day about the Japanese boy was obviously right. Heero did have a one-track mind. Mission, mission and even more mission.
/So much for trying to make him see I can be more than a comrade./
He pushed his unfinished meal away and walked slowly towards the grand piano that sat silently beside the large lace-curtained windows. He closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to feel the instrument. He had never played this particular one before and instead of hearing the familiar tunes of songs played from long ago, it remained silent beneath his fingers. It yearned to be touched, caressed, to be felt again and somehow Quatre found himself comparing the piano to his unyielding companion. Was that what Heero needed? Someone to touch, caress and to make him feel again? Had the Wing pilot been so conditioned to think in strictly black and white that he had failed to notice the other beautiful things that surrounded him?
He hardly realized that he had sat down on the small stool before the magnificent instrument. Neither did he realize he had opened up the protective covering to reveal the wooden black and white keys to his gaze. His fingers were the ones that were doing the ‘seeing’ now and allowing it to do just that, Quatre allowed himself to be lost in the soothing and almost haunting notes of a popular love song. His fingers spoke of unrequited love and pain. It spoke of life and death. It spoke of the power of healing and all that beauty, peace and joy could bring into one’s life.
He lost himself in the rhythm, his eyes closed as he swayed gently to the melodic sounds that filled his mind and heart. A light breeze had drifted in through the window and caused his blond locks to flutter across his face. Faster and faster, his fingers flew across the keyboards. His heart soared. He was flying. Higher than any bird in the sky. Higher than anything that had ever existed. He was one with the music. He was…spent.
They fell silent with a light note, his eyes opening slowly as he heard something that sounded uneven and a bit jarring. He couldn’t understand it at first, but he was sure that someone was…clapping? For him? His eyes opened up completely and he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment as he noticed Heero walked towards him with a small quirk of his lips and something quite unreadable in those blue depths.
“Oh…I…I didn’t know…” He lowered his lashes and wrung his fingers nervously before rising to his feet quickly. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you…”
“No, don’t get up,” Heero said quickly as he walked closer to the piano. “I…enjoyed it very much.”
Was Heero blushing as well? The Arabian couldn’t tell, but it didn’t really matter much because for the first time in a long while, he felt his heart warmed with gratitude at the compliment from the Japanese boy. He flushed even more and sat back down on the stool.
“I’m not really that good…”
“That was ‘Roses With Thorns’, wasn’t it?” Heero asked softly as he closed his eyes and sat down beside the slightly trembling blond. “I once heard it…” He stopped and Quatre noticed that he had his fists clenched tightly. Perhaps Heero had remembered something from his past and was having a hard time trying to say them out. But what was even worse, was the knowledge that he was sitting this close to Heero.
“Have you…have you heard of the song before?” he finally asked quietly.
Heero remained silent for a while. His eyes had now taken on a faraway look that seemed a bit haunted. “There was…a…woman,” he began in a voice that sounded distant. “A woman…can’t remember much…but she liked this song…a lot.”
Quatre held his breath. Heero was remembering his past! He did not really know what kind of a background the Japanese boy had, but Quatre was sure it hadn’t been an easy one. He felt the Wing pilot tremble and before he could control himself, he reached out to clasp a hand gently. A soft squeeze of reassurance seemed to stop the shivers that coursed through the pilot’s body.
Heero’s frown deepened as he fought to concentrate on the distorted images that ran through his mind. All he kept seeing was a woman with dark hair dressed in a white gown. She was smiling and was calling out to him. There was the piano at which she could be seen playing the very song Quatre had just performed… and then the image would fade away into nothing. He shivered again and closed his eyes, groaning weakly as his head began to throb with pain.
“I don’t…remember,” he whispered softly as he opened up his eyes again to stare into the concerned aquamarine depths before him. “Why…why can’t I remember, Quatre?”
The blond felt his heart ache with the longing he heard in Heero’s voice and throwing all caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms tightly around the other boy. He cradled the trembling boy against his body, hoping that somehow this little act would prove to Heero that he wanted to be more than just friends with him. If he could give his very soul to heal Heero’s at this time, he would have gladly done so.
“You rescued me,” came the muffled statement against his shirt. “You…saved me. Thank you…Quatre…”
“It’s okay, Heero,” he replied softly only to gasp softly in surprise as he felt Heero’s arms around his waist as well. He flushed in pleasure and closed his eyes, his chin resting gently above the dark chocolate locks that felt so much like silk against his chin. “I would do anything for you. Anything at all…”
For how long they remained in that position, neither one knew or cared. They savored the much-needed moment with undeniable pleasure, each deriving comfort from the embrace. Soon their other teammates would arrive and they knew that their time together would be limited. Perhaps someday they could both find a way to let the other know how much they appreciated and needed each other’s company, but for now…they were content to remain this close for as long as it took.
“Play it again for me, Quatre,” Heero pleaded quietly as he pressed himself closer to the slender pilot beside him. “Make me feel again…”
And as he was released reluctantly, and the soothing notes of the haunting love song filled the mid-morning air again, Heero lay his head gently upon the blond’s shoulder and allowed himself to dream again.
Give me a past that I once forgot, Quatre and make us a future to always remember...
-The End-
Gundam Wing Fiction
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