Long years
passed, war came so fast
Bravely they
marched away
Cannon roared
loud and in the mad crowd
Wounded and dying
he lay
Up goes a shout,
a horse dashes out
Out from the
ranks so blue
He gallops away
to where Joe lay
Then came a voice
he knew
Did you think I
would leave you dying
When there's room
on my horse for two
Climb up here,
Joe, we'll soon be flying
I can go just as
fast with two
Did you say Joe
all a tremble
Perhaps it's the
battle's noise
But I think it's
that I remember
When we were two
little boys
"Oyasumi!"
Duo called out from the large sofa. Quatre allowed
himself a brief smile as he left the living room with
the sound of an ages old voice crooning a song,
"The Last Unicorn" to accompany him.
"Good night,
Duo!" the young Gundam pilot called back. "Good
night, Heero!"
The dark haired
Japanese pilot merely grunted and moved closer to
Duo, the two leaning closely against each other to
watch the old animation he had dug up from somewhere
for Duo.
The Arabian pilot
paced the silent halls of his mansion to his
apartments. It was very late and most of the servants
had retired to their own beds. Quatre paused outside
Wufei's door and knocked on it.
"Who is it?"
the familiar voice responded. Through the door that
separated them Quatre clearly heard the shiiink
of his metal sword sliding into its sheath.
"Its me, Quatre."
"Come in,"
the Chinese boy invited from within. He turned the
knob and eased the door open on silent hinges. The
other boy was sitting on a chair as he wiped the
sweat off with a towel.
"Is everything
to your satisfaction?" Quatre asked, always the
concerned host. Wufei nodded briskly, an act that
sent his pontail swinging lightly.
"Hai," he
said. "Everything is fine, Quatre. Thank you for
letting us use your beautiful house."
"It's not a
problem," he smiled in returned. "Enjoy
your stay. If you need anything, just call, okay?"
"I will,"
the head nodded once more, but if he held true to his
behavior, Quatre knew he would sooner die than admit
any inadequency. Duo on the other hand, would not
hesitate to call out for more pillows or blankets or
even to send to the kitchen for sandwiches. He
remembered, laughingly, when Duo had once complained
that his room was too boring and asked to have the
walls repainted black, white and gold. The room did
not get repainted however. Rashid had seen no reason
at all for redecoration and in his usual manner made
Duo see his point of view. The fact that he was so
much bigger than Duo helped a lot.
"Oyasumi nasai,"
Quatre wished as he slipped back out.
"Maan on,
Quatre," the Chinese boy replied. The Arabian
left him and continued on his way. Trowa's quarters
were next and he repeated the knock. There was
silence from within. No one answered when he repeated
the knock again. Had Trowa fallen asleep? Quatre
wondered if he should disturb the Heavyarms pilot or
not then decided he should at least check on him. At
the very least he would get to see him relaxed in
slumber.
He carefully pushed
the door opened, thankful that it wasn't locked. Not
that it really mattered, since he had the keys to all
the rooms in the mansion. The large room was only lit
by the light of the full moon entering from the large
windows to the north of the door.
Trowa didn't seem to
be inside and he almost left before realizing there
was a body in the large four-poster bed, a body
neatly hidden by the shadows from the drapes. Quatre
tiptoed closer and peered at the unmoving form.
It was Trowa all
right. He smiled to himself as his hand, seemingly
possessing a life of its own, reached out to smoothen
the brown hair from his brow. The taller pilot
murmured in his sleep and Quatre froze, fearing that
he would be caught in the act. But thankfully Trowa
only sighed and lapsed back into sleep.
He wished the green
eyes would open, if only briefly, so that he could
look in it once again. The beautiful eyes were an
ocean he could and would gladly drown himself in.
From the moment they had first met on that
battlefield, he had felt himself drawn to the
Heavyarms pilot. Drawn and snared by a trap he wasn't
sure the hunter knew had been set and triggered.
Quatre knelt down
beside the bed and observed Trowa's features. He
reached out again to trace, feather-light, the line
of his jaw and his cheeks. The taller youth suddenly
broke into a smile, totally changing his face from
the grim mask of a warrior to that of a younger,
innocent youth.
"Kawaii!"
Quatre whispered to himself, convulsing in silent
laughter. Trowa's eyes were moving rapidly under his
lids; he was dreaming and it seemed to be a good
dream, judging from the wide, dreamy grin. Strangely,
he felt an inexplicable feeling of déjà vu. Why -
"Quatre..."
"!?!?" the
Arabian youth blinked in surprise. Trowa was dreaming
about him? He felt himself blush and smiled again. It
must be a very interesting dream, he thought. How he
wished he could peer into Trowa's thoughts and divine
the dream!
He caressed the
taller pilot's face again before rising. He said the
words he knew to be true in his heart but dared not
yet say aloud. "Aishiteru, Trowa." Quatre
gently tucked the blankets securely around the
unmoving form then quietly slipped back out.
***
When he heard the
door swing shut, he opened his eyes and wonderingly
touched his cheek. Why? Trowa wondered. He had
heard Quatre's knock but since he didn't feel up to
meeting him, he had pretended to be fast asleep.
Then when Quatre had
entered and touched him fleetingly, ever so gently,
it surprised him and he moved. He covered for that
swiftly and sighed in relief when Quatre fell for the
ruse. Where his touch lingered, Trowa felt a strange
warmness and the swell of an emotion he couldn't
identify but it made him feel strangely safe and
comforted.
He was fairly
confident that he kept his heart and breathing under
control, but somehow he had forgotten about his
tongue. From out of the blue he found himself
whispering the Arabian pilot's name and through
carefully slitted eyes he saw the youth blinked in
surprise then smile warmly.
Again the smaller
pilot touched him and he barely controlled his shock
when the whispered "Aishiteru, Trowa,"
reached his ears. Control nearly escaped him and he
felt so relieved when the door shut, signaling
Quatre's exit.
Why? He
wondered again. Why did Quatre touch him so? Why did
the touch evoke such emotions? Why did the emotions
exist? He had long thought himself hardened and
unable to feel thanks to the barrier erected over his
heart and the blunting by his stint in the mercenary
trade and war.
Trowa was faintly
amused and greatly afraid to discover he was still
human after all.
***
"This is not a
good day," Duo observed sarcastically. He spun
his energy scythe expertly and with a neat pirouette
even Trowa would appreciate, he beheaded a mobile
suit. The sudden flare of its explosion didn't even
faze him as he spun to intercept another enemy and
soon that one went to the Grim Reaper too.
"Just what is
your definition of a good day, Maxwell?" Wufei
asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The Chinese
pilot was hardpressed to keep himself free from being
surrounded by attacking mobile suits.
"Ummm,"
Duo considered as he absently exploded an Oz supply
warehouse. "A day where I get to peek on the ten
most prettiest girls in the world having a shower and
blow all schools up to kingdom come?"
"Baka!"
Wufei snapped. "Be serious, Duo!"
"Yes, daddy Wu.
Of course, daddy Wu," the American mocked.
"Maxwell!"
irritation fairly bled through the other pilot's
voice.
"That's my
name, don't wear it out!" Duo replied back
flippantly, laughing all the while. Then suddenly a
thought struck him. Deathscythe spun around the
battlefield, searching, scanning. "Wufei,
where's Quatre?" Amidst the smoking ruins of
stone and metal, there was no sign of Sandrock, nor
of Heavyarms, Quatre's partner.
***
Pain.
Throbbing pain.
Shimatta, it
hurts.
Trowa stifled a moan
of agony as he worked his eyes open through matted
hair and the sticky dried blood that caked his face.
Dim, red emergency lights lit the interior of his
Gundam, Heavyarms. He tried to recollect his thoughts
and move his leaden limbs.
They had been on a
mission, the four of them. Duo, Wufei, Quatre and him.
They were suppose to create a diversion while Heero
infiltrated the main Oz base and stole important data.
While Duo and Wufei paired off he and Quatre worked
together.
He remembered firing
at some Oz warehouses that had been stockpiled with
ammunitions while Quatre kept the enemy off their
backs. The resulting explosion had scoured the
battlefield of any living beings and heavily damaged
any mecha that happened to be near it.
Then ... Trowa
frowned as he worked his way to a more comfortable
position. He suddenly realized that his Gundam was
lying on its back and reached an aching hand out to
check Heavyarm's systems. He had to get back to the
battle. He belatedly wondered how long he had been
out and checked himself for injuries.
A heavily bleeding
cut just above his right eye. His chest hurt and
there was a tightness and shortness of breath.
Probably broken or cracked ribs. And somehow, in the
padded harnesses and seat, he had managed to get his
left arm broken. Aside from those, he had numerous
bruises and cuts all over. Well, at least he wasn't
bleeding internally, he thought.
Light flooded the
cockpit and the Gundam came back to life as feedback
from the systems reported in. The armor plating
protecting his back was heavily damaged, as was the
plating on the right leg. The other areas could still
stand some heavy battering. The generator efficiency
was down 40%, but that was expected due to the damage
taken. Thrusters were at 90% efficiency. The double
heat sinks were operating at 80% efficiency, more
than adequate to tide him through.
He checked the
weapons stats. Of the micro missiles, he had 36 left.
Homing missiles were left only 10. He had exhausted
the LRMs (long range missiles) fitted to the legs
early in the fight. His left arm's double gatling gun
was jammed. He frowned. At least the right was still
operational. Vulcan, machine cannons and gatling
cannons were all operational. He could still put up a
fight.[1]
Ah, now he
remembered. He had been separated from Quatre when
the force of the explosion had thrown them apart. He
had been swiftly surrounded, but that was not
something that worried him for he had always fought
his way free. He hadn't counted on a power-suited
soldier planting a satchel charge however[2]. That
was what had knocked him out, that and the hits
Heavyarms received when he was downed.
This all happened in
the space of a few seconds and in battle a few
seconds are all that's needed to bring a difference.
When Trowa realized he was still in the midst of the
battle, he ignored his wounds and flicked the screens
to battle mode.
Heavyarms came to
life and struggled to its feet. A discrete glance at
the chronometer showed that he had been out for less
than five minutes. Why hadn't he been killed in the
interim? They probably wanted a live captive. Well,
that was a big mistake. One they'd regret deeply.
Trowa opened fired
and rained death on the enemy.
***
"Hell Four?
Hell Four! Do you read me?"
Static from the open
comm frequency answered him. Duo cursed and cleaved
the legs out from an enemy mobile suit. Beside him
Wufei bathed an enemy in fire and reduced it to a
melted scrap. Geez, what kind of cheap materials were
they using to built mobile suits these days? the
American wondered.
"Hell Three! Do
you read me? Hell Three, answer dammit!"
Duo frowned and
switched to a closed and secured channel. "Wufei,
neither of them are answering."
"They're still
on my radar, Maxwell," the Chinese pilot replied.
"Both are moving, so I would venture a guess
that they are both alive and fighting. It is possible
that their communication system was damaged or that
Oz is jamming out all frequencies."
"Well, I hope
they're having a nicer time than us," Duo
muttered, ducking a hail of missiles and returning
fire of his own. He gasped as several homing missiles
rocked Deathscythe. "Dammit, how long does Heero
take to simply steal some info?"
***
"There's the
signal," Wufei reported. "Pulling out now."
"Goodbye,
fools," Duo laughed softly. "Till you meet
Death again one day!"
A blast of smoke
provided the screen for their escape. It left their
enemies cursing and howling for their deaths.
***
Quatre sliced an
enemy mobile suit in half and noticed the signal
flares in the sky. It was the signal that Heero had
obtained the data and had made his escape. It was
time for them to pull out too. But where was Trowa?
Quatre scanned the
battlefield. They had been separated shortly by the
force of the explosion of the ammunition warehouse
but then they had been reunited for a moment. Then in
the heat of the battle he had lost him again.
The Arabian pilot
flicked the comm channel open. "Hell Three? Do
you read me? Hell Three? Trowa! Trowa!"
There was no reply.
There was only the hiss of static and he irritably
switched it to standby mode. "Trowa, where are
you?" he whispered, a dread and cold feeling
sinking in his stomach.
Trowa was, at that
moment, in trouble. One disadvantage to his Gundam
was that when he ran out of missiles and bullets, he
was a liability. Heavyarms didn't even have the army
knife it once had. Well, he wasn't that defenseless.
There was still the self-destruct option open.
Heavyarms took
another cautious step back. In a wide semi-circle
around it were the enemy mobile suits. Above in the
sky were the air support from another base that had
arrive belatedly but was in time to help capture this
one stray Gundam.
Trowa had noticed
the flares lighting up the sky. A slight sneer of a
smile appeared fleetingly. How ironic. The flares
were to signal their escape, the fire of hope as it
was. Now, it was now merely the signal of a larger
and greater flare, the explosion of a Gundam.
Goodbye, Quatre,
he thought, feeling an inexplicable sadness and
regret welling up in his heart. I'm sorry I can't
return your love. I was never worthy of it, even when
we were children and your kindness touched me.
The Oz military were ordering his surrender and he
dismissed it without another thought.
Trowa carefully
brought out the small blue stone that was his
talisman. It was another coincidence, that he would
once again meet the boy who gave him hope in those
dark times again years later, and as partners no less.
He wondered if Quatre remembered that incident. He
had decided long ago that it didn't matter if he
didn't, it was enough that he did.
"Sayonara,
Quatre." Trowa clenched the stone with what
strength his broken arm could muster and with his
other he initiated the commands that would make
Heavyarms the brightest fireworks display yet.
Countdown T-30 seconds.
"Surrender,
rebel!"
Trowa considered it
and shrugged. He opened that hatch and stepped out,
the blue stone still held in his hand. It was
interesting that they thought him a formidable enemy.
There was enough firearms trained on him to equal the
mass destruction two exploding Gundams could make. He
didn't know whether to feel honored or to laugh.
"Put your hands
up in the air!"
"My left arm is
broken, so please excuse me if I don't," he
replied in monotone, while lifting his right arm. T-20
seconds.
"No sudden
movements, rebel!" The mobile suits inched
closer. He watched expressionlessly as two moved
forward to get restrain Heavyarms and the rest formed
a closer ring around him. Idiots, did they never
learn after Heero's flamboyant example? All the more
company when he died then. T-17 seconds.
A sudden massive
explosion shook the ground violently and created
veiling clouds of smoke and dust. He coughed and
tried to catch his balance with his good hand but
missed and jarred his broken arm. He hissed in pain
and levered himself up. What was going on?
"Trowa!" a
sweet and familiar voice boomed out from among the
smoke.
Trowa couldn't
believe his ears. Quatre? What was he doing here? He
was supposed to have pulled out minutes ago! The
stupid idiot! He was going to get the both of them
killed. The dust was choking him and he coughed
heavily. The pain in his chest increased and he duly
noted the flecks of blood that covered his hand when
he brought it away from his mouth.
"I've set my
Gundam to self-destruct. Get away," he shouted,
hoping that among the pandemonium Quatre could pick
his voice up. T-5 seconds.
"Not without
you, koi," came the grim reply. The explosion
must have deafened him. Did he hear what he thought
he heard? A gigantic hand emerged from the clouds of
dust and it picked him up as gently as a mother
cradles a newborn child. Another explosion rocked
them and shook him hard enough to make sharp, keen
agony splitting through his chest.
Dimly, he could feel
Sandrock's other hand fitting over the one he was
lying on, to cover him completely and protect him. As
consciousness bled away, Trowa wondered if he would
live to confirm what he thought Quatre had called him.
He wondered if Quatre would remember his rescuing the
blond child that long ago day and the favor repaid
today when he rescued him instead. Then the
shuddering explosion of his Gundam shook the very air
and sent Sandrock cart-wheeling over in the sky, and
not incidentally him into blessed darkness.
***
"He's awake and
lucid."
The blond head
jerked up in surprise, suddenly jolted out of his
thoughts. "Thank you, Doctor Kusanagi," he
bowed his head. The doctor smiled slightly and merely
nodded.
"It's my job,
Winner-san. Do not exhaust him too much however, he
still needs some recovering to do."
"Hai, Doctor
Kusanagi. I won't." Quatre waited for the doctor
to clear the entry and absently rolled the blue stone
he had found in Trowa's hand in his fingers. As he
did, his thoughts again went back to that day's
events.
He had barely
cleared the surrounding enemies when Heavyarms had
exploded. The shock wave had thrown him off for a
moment but he did his utmost to make sure Trowa was
safe and unhurt. While he detested not stopping to
make a check on Trowa, he was forced to because Oz
was still sending out probes after them and it was
imperative that they got to safety first.
The minute he had
reached the safety of his estates he had ordered a
first class emergency. The fully equipped medical
personnel in his staff had arrived quickly and carted
a seriously wounded Trowa away. But not before he had
the chance to assure his own afraid and wounded heart
that Trowa was indeed still alive and breathing. And
not before he found and gently pried free the stone
in his left hand.
The blue stone
evoked faint memories, a strange sense of déjà vu.
Quatre closed his eyes and tried to open himself to
his feelings. He owned this stone once, before, that
much he was certain. Had he lost it or gave it away?
It gave him a sense of peace, of wellbeing, and the
presence of something familiar and much loved. Part
of it he identified, blushing, as Trowa. Another
smaller part but no less powerful puzzled him.
"Okaasan! Can I
have an ice cream please?" the voice of a young
child floated to his ears, then the laughing reply of
an older woman, presumably the mother. Mother...
that's right, he thought with sudden certainty. That
was his mother's presence he sensed!
"Well, aren't
you going in?" Doctor Kusanagi's words broke in
again.
"Uh, yes, thank
you." Quatre gripped the stone tightly and
entered the room. The soft beeping and thrum of the
electronic equipment greeted him, as did the sight of
the long, lanky body swabbed in bandages and tubes
and sensors.
"Trowa,"
he whispered, feeling indecisive and nervous all of a
sudden. The Heavyarms pilot looked so pale and
deathly still lying there as he did. Like a porcelain
mannequin host bereft of its soul. Or perhaps a
puppet whose strings had been cut.
Quatre carefully
made his way among the wires and medical monitors and
sank down beside Trowa. Quiet though he was,
something had alerted Trowa and eyelids fluttered
open to unveil the dull orbs beneath. Doctor Kusanagi
had said he had been drugged to blunt the pain.
Trowa frowned and
struggled weakly to say something. Quatre quickly
placed a silencing finger on the other's lips,
shaking his head. "Don't talk, Trowa. Its okay."
Trowa sighed and
slumped back against the propping pillows. Quatre
glanced at the stone in his hand then smiled. He
gently pried open Trowa's right hand, placed the
stone in it then clasped the fingers over it.
Trowa's eyes widened
as he shifted his gaze from the blue stone to Quatre
then back again. A small crystalline tear made its
appearance, and still smiling that gentle wistful
smile Quatre reached out to brush it away. He leaned
closer and kissed Trowa on his cheek.
The taller pilot
flushed crimson, an act that made Quatre's smile grow
wider. "Get better for me, Trowa," the
Arabian pilot whispered. "Forever friends, and
more," he added.
***
Hours later, when
Duo and Wufei came to visit, they wondered why the
normally withdrawn and solemn Heavyarms pilot smiled
serenely as he slept on.
Did you think I
could leave you dying
There's room on
my horse for two
Climb up here,
Joe, we'll soon be flying
Back to the ranks
so blue.
Did you feel,
Joe, all a-tremble
Perhaps it's the
battle's noise
But I think it's
that I remember
When we were two
little boys.
<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
[1] Heavyarm's stats
are obtained from the Endless Waltz Heavyarms model.
I forgot its exact name ^^;;; I stole it from my
little brother. But this doesn't necessarily mean
this story occurred during the Endless Waltz. I've
also added little bits from Battletech, like how
heated up a mech can get when used. Just thought it
might make everything sound a little more plausible
but if I did it all wrong, *sigh*
[2] Another
Battletech reference. I suppose its safe to say that
if they had the technology to make Gundams, they
should have powered armor suits for the infantry as
well, at least in my opinion.
Note: The lyrics for
this song may be incorrect since I listened to the
song and wrote down what I thought I heard.