Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, Bandai and lots of powerful people who aren't me. Please don't sue.

Note: Yaoi lemon-if it's not your thing, don't read it. OOCness in the lemon bit, but it's explained in the later parts of the story. Though this story is slightly AU, try and see this as taking place relatively early in the story, before the whole Zero System mess with Quatre. I know the pilots aren't all together yet, just pretend they are, and keep the rest of the story intact as it is.

If you find yourself perplexed by the use of Japanese used. Go here for a rundown.

Tenshi No Yume wo Miru by Liz

Trowa Barton all but stumbled into his room, exhausted. The mission had been a success, but Trowa himself had barely escaped with his life and Heavyarms had sustained heavy damage. Aching all over, the young pilot had made an embarrassing landing on the lawn of Quatre's latest hideout and fallen out of his Gundam, trying not to show how hurt he was. Failing miserably, Trowa accepted help from various servants-for Quatre's 'hideout' was not very subtle-and was basically carried into the not-quite-mansion. He had showered the grime away as fast as the caked layers would allow and, fortunately, his wounds proved themselves to be mostly superficial. Pulling on a fresh set of clothes laid out for him (with a message from Quatre promising the golden boy would check in on him as soon as he got back to his estate from a trip to town), Trowa had bumbled like a fool to the room a sweet servant girl had directed him to with every intention of falling into bed and sleeping like a dead person until the next mission came up. But when he finally got to the room and stepped inside, the brunette stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

It wasn't the lushly furnished room that surprised him; in the admittedly few weeks Trowa had known Quatre, he had never seen the tiny boy shirk on the comfort of his friends. Nor was it the lit candles all around the room, obviously placed with care. It wasn't the incense wafting around the large, darkened chamber or the curtains of velvet draped across huge windows or the soft music that played from an unseen stereo. No, what brought the too young soldier to the point of shock was the very large bed across the room from him, and the very beautiful body nestled inside of it, peacefully sleeping. Quatre.

For a second, the wild thought flashed through Trowa's mind that Quatre was attempting to seduce him; but no, not only was that not the blonde pilot's style, he was asleep! But then who-?

From behind him, the servant girl shut the door, giggling to herself and whispering something to an unseen cohort outside about accomplishing a mission.

Trowa almost blushed. Oh.

Not entirely sure of what to do, Trowa found himself staring at the figure elegantly sprawled on the bed before him. Quatre had always been beautiful; an angel unjustly thrown to earth by some fluke. But now, with tiny candles glowing all around him, he was truly more than human. Golden hair shone under the light, the gentle flickering bringing out the softness often covered by dirt and blood from the various situations the Sandrock pilot was thrust into. Pale skin seemed almost white, and there was a lot of skin. Though covered from the waist down by a patterned quilt, Trowa would have bet money that the diminutive fighter wasn't wearing a thing. The lanky pilot suddenly became very aware that he was biting his lip-hard. The emerald-eyed man-child had never seen anything so beautiful.

Wanting very badly to cross the room and touch the boy laying in front of him and prove it was real, and yet not daring to disturb the vision and shatter it, Trowa stood like an idiot for several long moments in the doorway.

But the tension built in the Heavyarms pilot to an unbearable level, until Trowa realized he could stand still no longer. Mentally screaming at himself to walk out the door, to go away and not set off the chain of events he so desperately wanted to, it was a moment before the brunette realized he was indeed walking across the room, closer to his heavenly being. Heavenly. It was the perfect word, the near obsessed teen realized. Nothing human could be so perfect.

Finally reaching the elevated bed, Trowa once again stopped and stared at the angel slumbering on his stomach, blissfully unaware of the scrutiny he was under. With hungry eyes, Trowa memorized every detail of the sleeping body he could see, from the right side of Quatre's face to his slender lower back. Tasting s small trickle of blood in his mouth, Trowa reached out a shaking hand to touch Quatre's hair, wanting nothing more then to run his fingers through it. He knew, with heartbreaking certainty, that he wasn't worthy to do such a thing. He was dirty, tainted with sin and ugliness and should not even breathe the same air as the flawless creature before him. But Quatre was so beautiful… Trowa found he couldn't help but desire to be near his compassionate partner, and now, with such a chance to touch him-! Quatre would never know, no one would know, and Trowa could at least live knowing he had touched an angel. Such a gift was worth any risk.

But to his horror, large blue eyes snapped open as soon as Trowa's long fingers touched the gold hair, and Quatre looked up, eyes still muddled from sleep. "Tr … Trowa?"

Struggling to keep his fear under control, the Heavyarms pilot nodded his head. "Aa."

Concern and confusion on his face, Quatre sat up, apparently not awake enough to realize he was naked. Trowa clenched his fists, a silent plea for control going out to every God he had ever heard of. "Trowa! Daijoubu ka? I saw your Gundam, but couldn't find you."

Trowa figured the servants who had set this up had something to do with that. "Daijoubu. Go back to sleep--I just came in to, uh, check on you."

Yawning, Quatre shook his head. "Iie. I wanna hear how it all went. I'm awake now, ne?" Seemingly not thinking yet, the tiny boy reached out and grabbed his best friend's arm, tugging him towards the bed and urging him to sit.

Trowa was more then a little desperate to move away. He wanted so badly to touch his best--his only--friend and didn't know what would happen if he got too close. Almost roughly disengaging his arm from Quatre's loose grasp, Trowa pushed away from the bed and stumbled back. "Nemui… Ore wa nemui….." His thoughts whirling, Trowa rose to get away--only to face a rather unexpected obstacle.

In front of him, eyes shining with hurt, Quatre was staring sadly at his taller partner. "Gomen ne, Trowa. I-I didn't mean…"

The brunette mentally kicked himself for making his angel sad. What kind of monster was he, that he would make Quatre sorrowful? "Iie, Quatre! I'm just so tired, I didn't mean to insult." Silently calling himself every name he could think of, Trowa walked back to his best friend, hoping to provide some comfort.

"You didn't insult me." Quatre said, smiling his angel's smile, compassionate as always. "Really, I just thought I had made you mad."

"Iie!" Trowa was beginning to lose count of the amount of times he had screamed 'iie' in the last minute. "I was the one who woke you up. I'll stay if you like."

Quatre's whole face brightened, and with it, Trowa's spirit. "I would." Once again in a casual gesture, the blonde pilot lay a small hand on Trowa's shoulder.

A tiny shudder ran through the taller boy's body at the touch, even as he sat down on the bed. He would have to thank the servants in the morning. Even though what they had been planning on happening wouldn't, every little touch and smile could be incorporated into Trowa's memory. That was worth much in itself.

"Trowa?" Quatre's confused voice broke into the lanky boy's affectionate thoughts, and Trowa realized, mortified, that he had been staring and saying nothing. Barely keeping himself from blushing once again, the Heavyarms pilot offered more apologies, his thoughts not really on the words. This too-alluring being was so close to him now, concern and compassion all over his open face. The force of his own desire hit Trowa like a slap in the face, and the young warrior marveled at how he had been fooling himself all these weeks into thinking he didn't want Quatre more than anything else on earth. In a tiny part of his mind, Trowa absurdly congratulated himself on his lying skills.

But now, faced with everything beautiful in the universe packaged into one tiny boy, Trowa could no longer hide. He could see it all; learning new music and playing duets every day, going to restaurants and just talking for hours, making love all day while rain pounded outside and not caring. The last thought made Trowa's lean body shudder; he swallowed, finding the action difficult due to an oddly dry mouth.

"…Trowa…?"

Kuso. Staring again. Clearing his throat and doing his best to shake unshakable thoughts out of his head, Trowa struggled to find a response. "Eto…" Quatre's face was inching closer as the smaller pilot tried to find what was suddenly wrong with his best friend. "Ah … Quatre…Ore …" And then the face was just too close, the scent too overpowering, the lips too inviting, and Trowa leaned down and kissed his only friend with all the passion he'd bottled inside himself since watching this angel emerge from Sandrock only weeks ago.

A squeal of surprise met Trowa's ears, and the taller boy moved his face away, his head spinning. "Dai suki, Quatre, ai shiteiru ….."

Quatre's eyes widened to an almost comical level, his jaw dropping open and arms falling slack against his sides. "Nan da!?"

The shock in Quatre's voice acted as effectively as a bucket of ice water would have. His own eyes widening, Trowa's brain suddenly caught up with him and realized everything he had said and done. Never in his life had the pilot been so horrified. Cursing himself, wondering where his customary calm had gone, the mortified youth stood up and all but ran for the door. So wrapped up was he that Quatre's cries of "Matte! Matte kudasai!" were lost on him until the smaller boy actively jumped off the bed, ran over to his partner, and grabbed his arm. Trowa's well trained mind immediately registered that he would have to struggle to break free, and that could hurt Quatre. Nothing was worth that and so Trowa stood still-even so, it was a moment before what Quatre had just said registered.

"Boku mo suki da!"

Trowa Barton, legendary for his grace, physical ability and calm turned around so fast he tripped over his own feet and fell backwards on his butt. His arm still tangled around his partner's, Quatre fell as well, landing in an embarrassing sprawl on top of his fellow pilot and knocking the wind out of them both.

For a moment, the two boys stared at each other in shock, neither sure what to say. When Quatre finally opened his mouth, Trowa prepared himself for the worst. Surely this angel was about to laugh in his face and tell him he was a no good loser who was unworthy of love from anyone, let alone someone as perfect as him. Then Quatre would kick him out and tell him never to come back, to do the world a favor and go self destruct.

Expecting all of this, Trowa was more then a little surprised to hear Quatre say, "I'm naked, aren't I?"

"Eto… Aa, Quatre. You are." Not entirely sure what else to say on that subject, both boys fell silent again. After a moment, Quatre leaned forward and returned the kiss Trowa had given him moments ago, but with far more nervousness and hesitancy. Feeling his nerves set on fire, the Heavyarms pilot wrapped strong arms around his friend (koibito?) and gently stroked circular patterns on the tiny pilot's bare back. Trowa was gratified to feel a shudder run through Quatre's body at the touch as the angel deepened the kiss, growing bolder. Tongues danced as the two pilots fused their mouths together, forgetting to breathe or do anything but try and penetrate deeper. Quatre whimpered quietly, desperately pressing his tiny form against Trowa's larger one, silently asking for greater intimacies.

It wasn't enough. Trowa knew exactly what he wanted, what his partner wanted. And if felt so right that the angel who was joined with him in soul would join his body, too. With no more hesitation, Trowa gently disengaged his mouth from his koi and picked up the pilot of Sandrock, noting with a wince how skinny the boy was. How did Quatre have so much energy if he never ate?

The blonde leader blushed lightly as Trowa re-deposited him on the soft bed. Hands that were habitually used to kill now seemed inhumanly loving and intimate, roaming over Quatre's soft flesh. Not realizing he was mimicking Trowa's earlier actions, Quatre bit his lip and looked as though he were silently praying for control. With no intention of letting him do so, Trowa gently pushed his denim-covered erection into Quatre's exposed one, and was satisfied when Quatre threw his head back. A low moan escaped both throats, and Quatre slid his eyes shut.

"Iie," Trowa gasped, having sudden trouble forming words. "Please…k-keep your eyes open. I need to see you." As Quatre complied, his partner took a deep breath and grabbed two fistfuls of sheets, leaning down to taste his koi by burying his head in the flushed skin of Quatre's neck. Forcing himself to ignore the effect the Arabian's wild squirming was having on his own body, the young warrior continued down until he reached a small, pink nipple. Without hesitation, he sucked it into his mouth, shivering at Quatre's delighted cry. Slender fingers dug into the taller boy's shoulders, clutching with deceptive strength. Almost unconsciously, the Sandrock pilot ground his hips madly into his partners abdomen, spreading his legs wider and licking dry lips. Feeling his partners heated sex even through denim, Trowa began a rubbing motion with his hips, wringing amazing mewling sounds from his tenshi.

Quatre wanted more, and Trowa was willing to give his angel anything. Quickly moving down the velvet flesh he lay atop, the Heavyarms pilot teased the surface with tongue and teeth. Finally reaching the juncture between his partner's legs, the Heavyarms pilot hesitated only a moment before wrapping his lips around the stiffness he discovered there.

Pale limbs flailed making wild dancing shadows on the walls. Trowa restrained his lover as gently as possible, putting his right hand on Quatre's stomach and pressing him down into the bed. For once, the brunette was glad of his greater strength; it helped him keep his partner in one place.

Much as he loved Quatre, Trowa wasn't sure how fond he was of the idea of swallowing. Not that he wasn't curious, but he wasn't too into the idea of ruining this crucial first night by choking if it went wrong. Deciding to play it safe, and wanting to kiss his tenshi again anyway, Trowa replaced his mouth with his hand and gently met Quatre's face with his own. "Trowa!" the blonde gasped, having difficulty forming words. "Kami-sama, onegai!"

Gripping his partner's erection tighter, sliding the hot flesh against his hand in a steady rhythm, Trowa tore his gaze from Quatre's face and leaned down to whisper a husky command in his ear: "Let it go, Tenshi."

He did.

Quatre let out a scream, erection pulsing in his partners hand, eyes wide open but seeing nothing, so overloaded was his system. Trowa let out a hiss, one hand continuing to pump his partner dry, stroking the exhausted flesh gently when it was spent. Focusing again, Quatre reached up to hug his fellow pilot, and came in contact with a-

Shirt?!?

Still taking ragged breaths, but far from finished, Quatre grabbed at the green tank-top and desperately tried to rip the material away from flesh he needed so badly to come in contact with. "Trowa - get this OFF!" The Heavyarms pilot could see that his love felt horribly embarrassed-Quatre had been so lost in his own pleasure, he hadn't even noticed Trowa's. Hoping to soothe his angel's self-anger, the brunette quickly removed his shirt and began to unbutton his pants as well. To the Heavyarms pilot's surprise his lover moved to aid him, all but clawing at buttons and belt. Trowa winced the pressure the rough movements put on his overly sensitized skin, but he had endured far worse pain then this. He could certainly take this small amount of discomfort for Quatre.

Naked, Trowa uncomfortably watched Quatre scrutinize his body. He was unused to being so closely observed, and it made him quite nervous. Breaking his own rule, the pilot of Heavyarms shut his eyes, hoping fervently that his angel would like what he saw.

Quatre's soft roaming hands proved that he most definitely liked it. "Your turn, Koibito." The Sandrock pilot's voice held quiet command. "Open your eyes."

Not even pretending to be able to resist anything Quatre asked of him, Trowa obeyed, unable to help his apprehensiveness. To his intense relief the Arabian boy looked at him with no scorn or revulsion. Not even realizing he'd been holding it, Trowa released a whoosh of breath.

Smiling, feeling his love's tension, Quatre tried to find words to put the brunette at ease. Unable to think of anything fancy or decorative Quatre simply said, "You're beautiful, Koi."

The words were not showy, but they were the right words to say. Relaxing, Trowa leaned down and kissed his Arabian partner until both were taking ragged breaths and the Heavyarms pilot could have screamed he was so hard. The Sandrock pilot grabbed his koibito's damp hand, flushing when he realized just why Trowa's hand was wet. "Trowa?"

"Mmm?"

"Make love to me." There was no hesitation in Quatre's voice.

Trowa leaned up, more then willing to honor the request. "You-Tenshi, you're sure?" But one look into Quatre's large eyes answered the question for him.

"So, um, how do we go about this?" Quatre asked after a moment. "Shouldn't we have automatic knowledge or something? They always do in the movies and stuff."

Trowa frowned, trying to collect his wildly fluctuating thoughts. "This thing has an adjoining bathroom, hai?"

"Aa. To the right, over there. Demo-"

"Shh, Tenshi." Trowa put a finger to Quatre's soft lips, shivering at the thought of having them wrapped around his-

Not tonight, Trowa firmly told himself. There'll be other nights, after this. For now …

Quatre seemed more then a little confused when Trowa got up and headed for the bathroom. "Uh… Trowa?" The tiny Arabian looked as though his confidence was beginning to waver in the sight of the presumed rejection. "Is … something wrong?"

"Iie." Trowa disappeared into the bathroom. Now let's see, he thought, if those servants planned for everything … He opened a cabinet. Ah-ha! Grabbing the tiny tube-which, despite his admittedly limited experience, he KNEW he'd need-Trowa tried to keep his dignity and not run back into the bedroom. He almost succeeded.

"Trowa?" Quatre sat up slightly as his lover settled in between his pale thighs. "Nani--?"

"Quatre..." Just a few more minutes, Kami-sama, just a few- "Quatre, do you trust me?"

The Arabian looked at his partner as though that were the dumbest question he'd ever heard. "Mochiron."

Trowa held up the tube of lubricant he had retrieved from the bathroom. "Then … will you let me do this? I'll stop whenever you tell me to, if you want me to."

Quatre inspected the small object. "Eto, not to make myself seem like a total idiot-" Trowa grinned at the very idea that his angel could be anything but brilliant "-but why would we need that?"

"Ah, it'll hurt if I go in dry. If you want the truth, it'll probably hurt anyway, Tenshi. Assuming this is your first time?" At Quatre's nod, Trowa took a deep breath and continued. "There's nothing I can do except try and make it hurt as little as possible. It's up to you-do you not want me to?"

As before, there was no hesitation painted on Quatre's beautiful face. "I don't care, Koibito. I want you to."

Nodding, the Heavyarms pilot slowly bent down to nuzzle his lover's navel, dipping his tongue in and smiling when he felt Quatre's recently sated erection stir again. Once again taking the flesh into his mouth, Trowa deliberately teased his lover, using only slight pressure, then sucking hard, then removing all but the tip from his mouth. Quatre was a tiny squirm on the bed, shamelessly begging and wrapping his legs around his partners shoulders, trying to force more of himself into his koibito's mouth. While he was distracted, Trowa hastily coated his fingers with the clear stuff he had brought from the bathroom and gently pushed his index digit into the offered ring of muscle.

Quatre let out a yell as his muscles clenched around the invader, but the only words from his mouth were "K-keep going!"

Trusting his partner to tell him the truth Trowa did so, quickly pushing his finger all the way in and beginning to coat his angels insides, making sure it would hurt as little as possible. With his free hand, the brunette rubbed soothing circles on his partners chest.

But it was not comfort Quatre wanted, and in less then a moment the angel was loudly letting Trowa know it. "Trowa, Koibito, PLEASE!" The small pilot's eyes were wild, the pupils so dilated only a slight ring of blue could be seen around the black. "Kami-sama, Trowa, ima yo! Onegai, onegai!"

Trowa felt the last of his control leave him from just looking pale limbs spread in an offering of carnal purity, of divinity and love and salvation. "Mine," the Heavyarms pilot heard himself say as if from a distance. "Forever. Quatre, Tenshi, say it! Tell me so!"

"Zutto," the Sandrock pilot sobbed, Trowa's demand just barely penetrating his fogged brain. It wasn't enough for Trowa; so many years alone, and now he wanted it all.

"Every night, Quatre! I see your face, hear your voice every single night-!" Distantly, Trowa realized he hadn't spoken this much or this intensely in longer then he could remember. But now that he had gotten this far, stopping him would be like trying to catch the wind in a jar. "You tell me now, you're mine. Forever. You'll stay with me, you'll be with me forever. I want you with me always." Waiting for his angel to promise, to swear himself, Trowa pushed two fingers inside Quatre's opening, stretching him as carefully as his desperation would allow. He would take no less then everything from Quatre. This boy had been in his dreams ever since they had met, and now that Trowa had him, he would never let go. "Wakaru?" Trowa demanded, fighting to keep himself from burying his sex in Quatre's waiting body. "Do you? You understand I'll never let go?" Removing his fingers, Trowa again reached for the tube to prepare himself. "Tell me!"

Quatre was full of surprises tonight. Before the Heavyarms pilot could reach the lubrication, Quatre had grabbed hold of it, and squeezed some into his own pale hand. Reaching forward, the towheaded warrior wrapped his hands firmly around Trowa's penis, spreading the clear stuff himself. Unable to repress a yell, the brunette thrust once, twice into his lovers hands. "Oh, God, Quatre I can't wait anymore I need you-!"

"Dai suki," Quatre gasped out hoarsely, removing his hands and preparing to get on his hands and knees. "Forever, Koibito, I swear it. I want it too. Always." Seeing his partners clear eyes, Trowa realized that though his brain might be somewhat fogged, his Angels words were as sincere as they had ever been. Gasping in ecstatic relief, Trowa grabbed Quatre's shoulder and pushed him onto his back.

"Like this, Tenshi. I want you like this. I need to see you, still." Swiftly, Trowa grabbed the underside of both Quatre's legs and pushed them up, apart. More then happy to cooperate the blonde wrapped them around his lovers back, freeing Trowa's hands. Placing himself at his partners opening, the Heavyarms pilot held himself in check for as long as it took to meet Quatre's eyes and ask, "Are you ready?"

"Aa, Koibito." Quatre grabbed to Trowa's shoulders, as tight as he could. "Ima yo!"

Needing no more urging, the brunette pilot shoved his hips forward once, sliding inside his beloved, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling. "Oh God save me!" As though it were an echo, Trowa heard Quatre all but scream in-what? Pain or pleasure? He had to know. "Tenshi? D-daijoubu ka?" The Heavyarms pilot fervently hoped he had said what he intended to say; with his angel's flesh clutching at him, Trowa was finding it difficult to form any words at all.

But when Quatre assured him again that it was all right, the young fighter finally allowed himself to get lost, to willingly lose control. Digging callused hands into the tender flesh of his partners hips, Trowa felt his mind abandon him as he began to pump in and out of Quatre's body. The small angel's pleas for more filtered through his consciousness and he complied, gripping tighter and thrusting faster.

It didn't take long. After so many weeks of tension and longing and dreams, Trowa felt his long cultivated control dissapear into his lover's silken insides. For a few moments all that could be heard were soft whimpers and gasps, as both boys had forgotten speech moments ago. Trowa felt his world center around the stunningly beautiful boy lying beneath him, on clutching flesh, slightly parted lips, and blue eyes that bored into his own green ones. Feeling something inside of him begin to build, Trowa began to yell first his angel's name, and then an indefinable sound as all words again left his brain.

With one last incoherent shout, the brunette shoved himself as deep as he could inside his partner and saw spots and stars swirl in front of his eyes. "Dai suki, honto ni dai suki…" Had he said that, or was it Quatre? Before he could find out, Trowa felt himself fall on top of his tiny angel, panting heavily, feeling the last of his seed mark his partner as his. To hell with martial arts and space battles and shootouts, this was exercise.

Trowa felt as though he were floating, as though the world had abandoned him and all that existed was his angel and the heaven he came from. For surely, this had to be heaven. What else could it be? Finding the strength to raise his head, Trowa again met his partners eyes, speaking volumes that no words could hope to express. Quatre's silent smile promised that he understood, before Trowa lost all strength and again collapsed like a building after the wrecking ball. Ignoring the rather large mess they had made, both boys were asleep before anything could be done about it, too exhausted to do anything but roll to the other side of the bed.

*************

All his life Trowa Barton's sleeping hours were hell. Before he had met Quatre the night was plagued with visions of death, the faces of people he had killed, and scenes of his own future demise at some mercenaries hands. He would die alone, he knew, in some mud pit with an empty gun in his hand to the sounds of war and futility. After Quatre had entered his life his nights were taken by dreams of love, forcing him to wake alone again and again to the realization that he was unworthy of what he desired. The horrible feeling of loneliness was only intensified by the pseudo-affection he gained in his dreams. For a time, Trowa was certain he would go mad, assuming he wasn't already.

But this night he was taken by no dreams and saw only a comfortable darkness, a soothing blanket of oblivion. Drifting gradually into wakefulness Trowa sighed and stretched, feeling around for the tiny body of an angel. It took him only a second to realize none was there.

Horrified for only a moment, the Heavyarms pilot quickly heard the soft sounds of running water coming from the bathroom. A shower. Of course. Actually giving a slight grin of embarrassment (that no one else would ever see) the brunette recalled that they HAD made a slight mess. Quatre would just be cleaning up.

Scooting away from the wet spot himself, Trowa stood and stretched again before heading into the bathroom, intending to join his partner in the shower. Reaching for the curtain and pulling it back, the Heavyarms pilot came face to face with-

DUO?!?

Both boys yelled and jumped backwards, the American pilot banging against the tiled wall behind him. Shower stalls were not a good place to do a lot of jumping, the violet-eyed boy ruefully thought to himself. "Oi, Trowa! Gomen, man, but I was outta hot water and you were still asleep so-"

As Maxwell babbled on Trowa felt a sick feeling creep into his body, eating his insides and tickling the back of his brain. No, it couldn't be, it was so real it couldn't be no no no nononono…

Quatre. The angel could make it all better, could heal this black in his soul. If he could find Quatre, he was sure the blonde would have a perfectly good explanation. He must have been called away on a mission or summoned by Rashid to take care of some squabble. "Quatre wa doko?" the brunette snapped, interrupting Duo's nervous chatter.

"Quatre? Eto…ah! He went to town last night to pick up some supplies. I don't think he came back 'till real late. He's probably still asleep in his room-"

Before the American had finished his sentence Trowa was out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. Grabbing pants and pulling them on the young pilot strode down the hall while pulling his green tank top on backwards, not caring. His face was schooled into expressionlessness as it always was, for none could control their outward show of emotions better then the Heavyarms pilot. Forcing himself to stay in check the green-eyed fighter made his way to the room the servants had pointed out as Quatre's, and began banging on the door.

"Matte, matte kudasai!" came a sleepy voice from the other side of the beautifully carved wooden door. Said door swung open, revealing a very tousled, obviously tired Quatre.

Immediately upon seeing his best friend the Arabian brightened, though his fatigue was still evident. "Trowa! Ohayo! I saw your gundam last night, but when I came to check on you, you were asleep. Genki?"

"Aa," Trowa smoothly lied, adept as always at fooling others. "Genki."

**************************

Exhausted though he was, Trowa did not trust Quatre to be less observant than always; the Heavyarms pilot knew that his partner would pick up in a second if anything he said was out of place or character and question him on it. Angels were smart that way. So, Trowa quickly claimed he had a headache, explaining in one stroke his odd behavior and his need to get away. Though the Sandrock pilot didn't really buy the excuse, he had no proof, and thus let his best friend go without too much protest.

It was only back in his chambers that Trowa let himself go. Checking first to make sure Duo was gone, Trowa locked the door, and lost his mind.

Anyone in the room at that moment would have been truly terrified at the un-Trowa like display. Grabbing hold of the nearest object the Heavyarms pilot threw it, realizing after it shattered that it was a lamp of some kind. It felt good to watch it break, to be shattered and ruined. The desire to simply destroy all he could filled the green-eyed pilot's heart and in seconds the room he inhabited was in shambles. Curtains and sheets lay in disarray, ripped to shreds. Shards of glass and porcelain littered the floor and tangled themselves in the sheets ruining priceless hand-woven rugs and scratching wooden floors, marring the surface.

It wasn't fair!

Trowa ran to one of the huge windows running along the west wall and without hesitation put his fist through it, shattering the surface and smashing his hand, slicing it horribly. The Heavyarms pilot paused at that, at the pain he felt.

It was good.

Smashing another window, and another, ripping his arms into ragged chunks of flesh Trowa screamed, feeling a lifetime of control slip through his fingers. So many weeks of haunting dreams of an achingly beautiful boy that he could never touch, that he would never be worthy of wore away at all the barriers he had erected around his soul, flooring him, defeating him in so short a time.

It wasn't FAIR! How dare he? How dare Quatre come into his life and give him friendship, something he had never, ever had? How dare he be so perfect, so unbelievably compassionate and brave and strong and brilliant? Why couldn't he be violent, or bitter, or angry, or SOMETHING like the hard-bitten mercenaries Trowa had dealt with since he was too young to remember? How could he be so cruel as to make the Heavyarms pilot feel again after fifteen years of desolation only to offer him more emptiness then relief?

IT WASN'T FAIR!!!!

Sinking to the floor amidst the rubble he had created Trowa sobbed, bloody hands grabbing his forehead in an attempt to make all the thoughts go away.

Distantly the traumatized pilot felt arms grab his shoulders and shake him, none too gently. Lashing out instinctively, Trowa's injured right arm hit something solid; the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, with a fist smashing into his jaw and almost breaking it. At the moment the Heavyarms pilot found he didn't care if the attacker killed him, so he lay still and allowed the assault to continue. After a moment, his attacker stopped turning his face into hamburger, pulled Trowa up by the shoulders, and began to bandage his wounds.

Slowly, over the minutes that followed Trowa eased out of the fog surrounding him and saw to his surprise that it was Heero who tended his arms, customary scowl firmly in place. "Y-Yuy?"

"Aa." Taping up the last of Trowa's shredded skin, the Wing Zero pilot stood and without preamble announced, "Several servants have heard the commotion you made and will report it back to Quatre. He'll be here in minutes. I assume you will not want to be here when he arrives."

Trowa was stunned. "You-you know?"

Heero smirked. "Duo knows. He's known. When he saw your state this morning in the shower, he came to me. I just got here a minute ago."

Trowa nodded, not even questioning how Heero had managed to sneak up on him. Heero Yuy was Heero Yuy, unmatchable in all the colonies for his skill. But how had Duo discovered his feelings for Quatre? Had he been so obvious about them? Unbearably ashamed, the Heavyarms pilot hung his head, too embarrassed to look at his fellow pilot.

With his usual lack of ceremony or sympathy, Heero waved his arm vaguely at the door. "Go already."

"What about the room?"

Heero shrugged. "You should have thought of that before you decided to throw a tantrum."

For a moment Trowa found himself stunned, staring up at the Japanese pilot and wondering what to say, what to do. He wanted, more then anything to yell at Yuy, to tell him it wasn't fair for him to say such a thing, that the pain in his heart justified the rage. But did it?

His head too muddled to truly give a response, Trowa simply stood up and headed out the door.

Hearing commotion behind him, the Silencer instinctively sped up, years of training kicking in to let him bypass guards, servants-friends. He could do it without even thinking, so well was he programmed. Reaching Heavyarms without fuss, the pilot seated himself in the cockpit and prepared for takeoff.

With his arms messed up there was only so much flying he could do, but that was all right. He wasn't going to be fighting or hopefully even running from other gundams-Trowa took a moment to pray none of the other pilots would give chase-so all he needed to do was lift off and fly away.

Heavyarms quickly departed from its resting place in Quatre's estates, slicing through the air and leaving behind the shadow of heaven. For an unknown amount of time he simply flew, daring anyone to try and catch him, to have the lack of sense to fight him now. None did, and Trowa's frustration simply continued to grow and eat him. Finally giving into exhaustion Heavyarms landed, creaking metal almost giving a sigh of relief at the release in pressure. There was only so much a body, human or machine, could take.

For several minutes the brunette pilot sat in the cockpit of his real best friend, the only one he could truly count on to not leave or lie or betray. Then, in a move so sudden he startled even himself Trowa surged forward and palmed his self-destruct, entranced by the tiny red button. He decided it was beautiful in its reliability. Grabbing the black holder Trowa squeezed as hard as he could, only just avoiding the bright red at its middle, avoiding an end to his pain. Grasping tight, tighter, tighter, taped up wounds split open from tentative healing, spraying blood that soaked through bandages and hit the self-destruct mechanism. Bright red spread onto the black holder, hiding the tiny button at its center from view. Shredded skin, whitened knuckles and the color red became the center of Trowa's world and he welcomed them and let them take him over, for they were the only signs that he was even alive.

OWARIMASU