(Last Night) I Didn't Get To Sleep At All by the Storyteller The 5th Dimension Note: --->// is beginning flashback. //<--- is end flashback. Standard disclaimers apply. This song is sung by the 5th Dimension. Its not mine. <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>> Oh, last night I didn't get to sleep at all No, no I lay awake and watched until the morning light Washed away the darkness of the lonely night The room was sparsely furnished and the smell of medicine and sterility was pressing down like a stifling blanket on a hot summer's day. White was the predominant color of the room, the steady pattern of it broken by the sweet smelling red roses and the card beside the vase the roses rested in. Mechanically the hand lifted to touch the card again. Even though this was probably the thirtieth or maybe thirty-fifth time he did so, the wonder and disbelief of it hadn't faded yet. The outside of the card was a pale turquoise blue and the front cover had tiny, cute chibi lions and bears playing with each other under the watchful eye of the Ring Master. The words 'For You' were embossed in golden and silvery dust. He gently flipped it open. A lion and a bear stared up at him, smiles on their faces. The message pre-printed there read, 'For a Friend, May You Get Well Soon. You are sorely missed!' In Duo's messy scrawl was his signature, in fine calligraphy Wufei's name and in plain serviceable writing Heero's signoff. By the pale, cold light of the lamp, he tenderly slipped out the tiny folded piece of paper secreted in the card. He unfolded it carefully and read the message there that had been written in his smooth, beautiful writing.
At 10 am tomorrow morning. Nine hours from now. He carefully placed the note back and leaned against the pillows, moving carefully so as not to jar his wounds or his still healing arm. He shut his eyes and wished he could as easily shut his heart.... --->//Friends forever, and more.//<--- He opened his green eyes to stare at the window and breathed slowly, deeply. What happens now? He caressed the stone for comfort and glanced down at it. I didn't expect him to find it. He knows what it is. I'm sure of it. But does he remember what actually happened? Is he still keeping that piece of cloth I gave him? 8 hours and 57 minutes. Trowa clenched the stone tightly, wishing for the thousandth time it could talk back to him and perhaps give him some advise of what to do, what to expect. --->//"I've set my Gundam to self-destruct. Get away." "Not without you, koi." //<---[1] Koi. Beloved. Did Quatre mean it? Or did he hear wrong? In the heat of the battle and he being not too clear headed as he was then, it was entirely possible. But he signed the note 'With Love.' But then, Quatre was the type who probably signed that way for all his informal letters. Well, I'm still alive. He remembered the thought that had flashed through his mind before he lost consciousness. Would I live to confirm what I thought he had called me? Apparently, the answer was yes. The question was, dare he take the first step? Oh last night I got to thinking Maybe I, I, I ... should call you up And just forget my foolish pride I heard your number ringing, I went cold inside And last night I didn't get to sleep at all I know it's not my fault, I did my best God knows this heart of mine could use a rest Maybe a better question was, should he even take that step? That we are both males is not a matter. I am bisexual while Quatre... he's so innocent he probably doesn't care as long as there is lo... as long as there is mutual fondness and respect. But what does he see in me? I'm nothing. I'm flawed. I'm just a walking puppet dangling from strings that are not in my control. --->// "Nanashi," the voice was cold and hard, the intent unmistakable. The young little boy stifled his sobs and mewls of fear; he had long learnt that such cries were useless for no one helped him and it only made people like him even worse. The tent was dark, lit only by a dim battery-powered lamp that threw frightening shadows on the canvas walls. He hated the tent. He hated the men. He wanted to get away from it all. But where could he go? What could he do? They were all so much bigger and meaner than him... "Hurry up!" With trembling small fingers, he shakily slipped the ragged shirt off and soon his worn pants joined the tiny heap. He fisted the tiny scrap of cloth, out of his sight. He bit his lip and slowly got on his knees, leaning forward. "That's good, Nanashi. You're learning fast," he laughed cruelly. //<--- Trowa shuddered and took a deep breath to steady himself. That part of my life is over. No one can force me to that again. I'll sooner die than be that again... The clock on the wall suddenly hummed and he realized it was 3 o'clock in the morning. Unexplained fear shot through him and he didn't want the sun to rise at all, didn't want the clock to tick and measure the trickle of passing time. I don't want to go! I don't want to meet him. I'm not ready yet! --->// "Eh, Trowa!" the seeming angel-on-earth smiled on him, sunlight reflecting off his golden locks in bright motes of light and dancing colors. "I didn't see you standing there. Would you like to join me?" "What are you doing?" "Bird-watching," Quatre had grinned and passed him a pair of binoculars. He raised a finger at a distant tree and urged him to look at it. "Can you see that small blue bird with white undercoat markings? The tail feathers are reddish and yellowish. That's one of the parents of the nest that's just slightly above it to the right. See it?" "Its beautiful," he had finally said, feeling awkward and strange. Quatre did not notice his hesitance and only smiled back in reply. "Its simply wonderful. I wish I could be like that." "What? Have a nest and three speckled eggs?" he had murmured. "No, silly!" he'd laughed. "I mean to have someone who loves me in return, someone who understands me. Someone who sings the same tune I do." //<--- "Do we even dance to the same music?" Trowa whispered aloud. He glanced towards the shiny cellular phone on the table next to him. Maybe... maybe I'll call and tell him not to bother picking me up. I can go back myself. I don't need him... I haven't needed anybody all these years after all... Resolutely he reached for the phone and dialed the number that would give him direct access to the Winner heir. The phone rang once, twice, thrice then someone fumbled the receiver up. "'lo?" a sleep fuzzed voice yawned. "Wuz this?" Idiot! Its 3am! You just woke Quatre up for no reason at all! Trowa mumbled a hasty apology and slammed the phone down. He stared as the phone hit the ground with a loud thud and went cart-wheeling across the floor to gradually stop at the base of the cupboard. "I'm going crazy," he told himself quietly, not at all really upset. Being crazy is better than being sane in this mad, mad world. I'm losing my focus, losing my sense of purpose, worse yet, myself. When will this all end? --->// "Aishiteru, Trowa." //<--- He clenched his head in his hands and twisted around himself. *But more and more I find the dreams I left behind Are somehow too real to replace Oh last night I didn't get to sleep at all, no no The sleeping pill I took was just a waste of time I couldn't close my eyes 'Cause you were on my mind And last night I didn't get to sleep Didn't get to sleep, no I didn't get to sleep at all (repeat *) "Mr. Barton, sir?" His head shot up to blink in surprise at the white-clad woman smiling at him gently. "Who?" nearly escaped when he foolishly realized it was only the night nurse on duty. "Yes?" he asked instead. "You should be asleep, Mr. Barton. Are you feeling pain anywhere or are you feeling sick?" she asked solicitously. A curl of brown hair had escaped from her cap to hang down disobediently, giving her otherwise serious face a mischievous cast. He shrugged slightly. "I just don't feel sleepy." "Too excited about going back tomorrow?" the nurse laughed. "Your friends all seemed eager to have you home, especially that little golden-haired one. What is his name?" "Quatre," he'd closed his eyes and said softly. "Mmm, that's a nice name. But you really should be asleep, sir. Would you like a sleeping pill perhaps?" Trowa hated using drugs. The risk of misuse was too great and he was not fond of the drowsiness or dizziness some gave him. But I don't want to think about this anymore. Perhaps, for this one time. "Yes, please," he told her and soon swallowed down dry the small pale ivory colored pill. "Good night, Mr. Barton." *********** He was staring at himself. Two of his own selves. To his right was his solemn face staring forth from behind the clown mask and the clown outfit he wore for performance. When he looked to his left, there was him as he was years ago, when he was still in the mercenary trade. "I'm dreaming," he said flatly, staring at the two. The clown-Trowa laughed gently, face creasing into a smile so unlike his. "Of course you are," clown-Trowa assured. "Otherwise, anyone who talks to himself in real life is called a lunatic." "Hn," the hard-bitten merc-Trowa had snorted and hefted a gun he recognized easily. "Yes, it's the one that killed all those bastards," merc-Trowa confirmed as if he had heard his thoughts. "We had some fun times together, haven't we? This is the only thing we can trust ourselves with. Remember that, Trowa!" Yes, that was true. I never trusted anyone then, and I never felt as confused and lost as I am now. Maybe it is time for me to - "No!" clown-Trowa had snapped, glaring at merc-Trowa and back at him. Clown-Trowa tore the half-mask away and twin emerald eyes stared pleadingly at him. "You can't go on the cold, alone child anymore, Trowa. Trust in Quatre, Trowa!" I must be going insane. But he replied anyway. "I don't know if I can. Quatre is too... he's too pure, too innocent. He can't like the likes of me." "That's true," merc-Trowa fisted the gun. "Those bloody Hell-spawned bastards and their sweaty hands, those grasping hands and bloody -" he choked and fired a shot angrily into the distance. "We can't forget it, we can't ever forget it!" Trowa screwed his own eyes shut, the rise of bitter memories threatening to drown him. "I'm not whole," he whispered brokenly. "He'll hate me when he knows." Why can't Quatre leave me alone? I don't want to be drawn out. I... I just want to be who I am! Clown-Trowa pointed one of Catherine's throwing daggers at him. "You're afraid," he said calmly. "You're running away." "No," the merc-Trowa laughed harshly. "He's doing what's right. That kid is of no use to him. We don't need anybody, right? Just ourselves and Heavyarms." "But have you thought of the future?" the other countered. "The war can't last forever. There'll come a day when 'Trowa Barton' is no longer needed, and Heavyarms is scrap metal. Who will you be then?" Merc-Trowa glared at the clown and snarled. "Thinking of the future is for weak little cowards who can't deal with the present. You're just running around in circles worrying about things that may never even happen. The time is now, the action is now! And I say Trowa should leave Quatre!" "Do you remember serving with Shed, Trowa?" clown-Trowa glanced at him. He nodded; he remembered the slim, fast mercenary who was one of the few whom he was actually on friendly terms with. Shed had ultimately died of friendly fire. "And what did he tell you?" "To regret now is to be able to salvage it. To regret later is to lose all," Trowa clenched his fists. He's right. I shouldn't be so afraid. It might hurt a little, but don't lancings always do? I may have survived all these years behind my mask, but I don't want to die alone and unloved...... *********** No, no, no, no...... Last night I didn't get to sleep at all Last night I didn't get to sleep at all. "Are you okay?" Quatre glanced at him worriedly as the car cruised down the road past the other vehicles. Trowa glanced back at him, noting the sapphire-like eyes filled with concern, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, the slight smile that always seemed to be present. "Do you need anything? You look like you didn't catch much sleep last night." I didn't. Who could sleep with you on the mind? Trowa was glad none of the others had come along to pick him up. This was already difficult enough without having an audience for it. "Quatre," he spoke hesitatingly and shifted his eyes to the passing traffic outside. "Yes?" "When you rescued me, you called me koi." "Yes," the other answered readily enough. "I did." "Did you mean it?" This is the part that'll hurt.... "Of course I do. Why would I call you something I didn't mean?" then a note of doubt entered Quatre's voice, uncertainty shot through and through his next few words. "Do... do you care? I mean do you mind? I'd... I'd understand if -" Trowa stopped him with a smile. But I'm still afraid. "Quatre, I hope you'll forgive me for being a selfish stupid bastard, but -" "No! You're not selfish! Or stupid or a bastard!" the Sandrock pilot interjected indignantly. "You're none of those things, Trowa!" Despite himself he smiled. "That is entirely a matter of opinion. No, wait, hear me out. I... I'm not used to these things, Quatre." He lifted his head to stare into Quatre's eyes. "I'm not rejecting you, it's just that I don't want to hurt you. I need some time to adjust....." "That's all?" Quatre grinned in relief. "I don't mind. I -" "WATCH OUT!" Trowa reached out with his good hand to quickly grab and jerk the steering wheel to the side. The car spun sharply, throwing the two pilots inside roughly but safely out of the collision course with the tourist bus loaded with passengers. "Quatre? Are you all right?" Trowa unbuckled the seat belt quickly and twisted over to check on the unmoving youth. No! "Quatre!" "Wha-?" he suddenly struggled and opened his eyes. He's safe, he's all right. "Trowa? What happened?" "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have distracted you while you were driving," he sighed, relieved that Quatre had suffered no harm. That had been too close. "Oh," he reddened. "That was foolish of me, I'm sorry too. I should have been paying more attention to the road...." Trowa crooked a grin, and started laughing weakly. A moment later and the blonde youth joined in as well, the near accident having set their adrenaline running and the suddenness of it ending bordering them on hysteria. Strange that Gundam pilots who fights mobile suits bravely can get so shocked over a mere automobile accident. Trowa smiled at Quatre and felt his heart lift when he gave a sweet smile in return. <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>> [1] Refer to Two Little Boys. |