Fragile
by D.C. Logan (maxwells_salvage@oocities.com)

WARNINGS: Short unfinished snippet; Quatre POV.

Skin. Such a fragile barrier. Blood and vital organs pulsed and flowed within a fraction of an inch of its delicate surface. Resilient. Warm. The essence of what it meant to be human.

He licked a corner of his index finger and traced over the palm of his hand in wonder—following the course of the myriad of lines that spoke his destiny. Not that he believed in such things—or would admit to doing so to the others anyway. He turned his hand over and mapped the scars from his childhood to the present. One of the soldiers he’d met had told him that the story of his life was written in the scars he carried. Quatre wondered if he’d included the scars on the inside as well.

Days like this, the only thing that kept him sane was the other pilots: Wufei's resolve, Heero's unflagging belief in the mission; Trowa's quiet support; and Duo's faith that if the world was falling—he'd give it hell before it crushed him. They were much stronger than him, but focused on their individual strengths, they couldn't see the power they gained as a unit. He'd have to work harder at convincing them.
 

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