By Mirror and Image

Authors Notes: This is a reminder that this story, like it's sister story "Harmony" is ambiguous. There are different forms of love out there. Also, Wu Fei's name, according to Chinese, is supposed to be TWO names.

Pain. He was aware of pain. Lots of pain pounded at his head, blurring his already golden vision. He had not experienced this pain since he met that small Arabian. The pain of something triggered something buried deep in the recesses of his mind. Normally, this pain was accompanied by fear. Heart stopping, blood chilling fear. Accompanied by cold. Penetrating frigid cold. But this pain was alone. No fear. No cold. It came hammering down on his head again with a vengeance.

He had to be hallucinating. His golden vision blurred further under the sledgehammer that kept striking his head. He saw Wing Zero, but it had a different pilot. Wasn't he piloting Wing Zero now though? Quatre was in Wing Zero. No, that couldn't be Quatre; the person was talking about killing everyone in space. That wasn't the small blond, but it was. Zero was taking aim. Aim at Heero. But didn't Wing Zero belong to the Japanese youth? And when did this happen? He had only met Heero a few days ago. Something was wrong with Quatre. Yes, it was definitely the Sandrock pilot, but the pilot had lost his mind. He had to do something. Had to help. He watched Wing Zero fire that shot. The shot that took away his memories. Was that what happened?

The hallucination thankfully stopped, letting him take a deep breath as the pain pounded down on his skull yet again. That blast, that was how he had lost his memories? How did he know that? But wasn't there more to the blast than that? And why did he go into the line of fire? His emotions swirled around him. The pain hammered down again, reminding him that he was in a dangerous situation right now if he had been willing to fire on a colony.

Another hallucination came across his golden vision. Heero, wrapped up in bandages, talking to him. Though the scene was unfamiliar to him, the words were. "The only way to lead a good life it to act on your emotions." Didn't he mention that to Catherine? Why was Heero bandaged like that? Why was Heero staying with him? He traveled in the circus alone. The other pilots didn't know of his hideaway. But he was with all five pilots now, why wouldn't he tell them? Trust, he didn't trust anyone then. Why did Heero's words hit him? Because he had closed off his emotions. After the life he had led, he learned emotions only brought pain. What life? He didn't have any memories, did he? Why was that conversation so important?

His vision became golden again, releasing him from the flood that had entered his mind. He grunted as the pain engulfed him again. His head was no longer the anvil for a blacksmith, but instead ground Zero for a self-detonation. Self-detonation?

Another vision filled his eyes. Catherine had slapped him. Why? She was his sister so why had she slapped him? He had tried to self-detonate. Why? Because the colonies where threatened, just as they were now. But wasn't he working to save Catherine? She couldn't be there right now. No, this had happened on earth. The slap stopped him from suicide. He had followed Heero's advice. Live by your emotions. Catherine valued life and would miss him if he was gone. She would cry just like she was doing now. No, right now she was trapped on that colony, held hostage by Oz. He felt the sting of the slap on his cheek. Emotions could be used to guide one through life. But who had showed him he had emotions? He had bottled them up for so long, who brought them forward again?

He took a deep breath, letting the pain finally numb his head. His vision was golden again. These where memories, not hallucinations. But something important was missing. When Quatre was controlled by the Zero-system and blasted him, why did he feel the need to go into the line of fire in the first place? Heero and Catherine had told him to use emotions to guide his life, but up until that point he never had emotions. How had he suddenly gotten emotions? Who had shown him how to feel?

Instead of flashing to another memory like he had been doing, the gold of the Zero-system filled his eyes. It brightened and took shape, dulling as it showed a memory. Quatre. That was the answer to his questions. He was standing on Heavyarms, looking over to a small blond boy who had reached out in the middle of a battle and touched his heart, opening it up to emotions that he had forbidden himself to feel. There was something connected to the fragile Arabian very important to him. A sound. He stared at the small boy across from him on Sandrock. The boy was telling him something. "Put your hands down. I was the first one to surrender, remember?" Why had that small boy trusted him? The sound. As his vision filled with the gold of the Arabian's hair, a small scene flashed so fast he thought he imagined it. A stream spackling under a canopy that filtered sunlight. The harmony that sparkled. He looked up to the golden screens of the Zero-system around him. He could hear it.

Nausea overtook him. His hands were shaking. The Zero-system no longer had any control over him. He was free. Free of the system. Free of the black hole that had been were his memories were buried. Free to feel again.

Trowa Barton slid down Wing Zero to where Catherine was already awaiting him. No sooner did his feet touch the ground than did she jump into his arms, hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace, grateful his sister had not been harmed. Odd how, even after regaining his memories, he still thought of her as his sister. When she had found him lost and desolate, running from the cold that frequently engulfed him, she called him brother and looked after him. He was eternally grateful for that. With his memories back, he found that the ones he had during his time of amnesia still gave him a different outlook on life and war than what he had previously.

"Don't you dare leave me again, Trowa," she said through tears. "I can't loose you again." He inwardly sighed. With memories now intact, he understood with far better clarity that he was needed somewhere else. He had his mission now, and he couldn't leave it alone. And even if he didn't have his memories, there was still a blond Arabian who needed his forgiveness for something the blond didn't really do. The tall pilot had just encountered the Zero system. He knew what it was like and had a large amount of empathy for the smaller boy. He had to leave again, but she wasn't going to let him.

"Onee-san," he said. Formality was probably the best way to handle this. Formality and kindness. The kindness that Sandrock pilot had showed him. He pulled out of their hug. "Onee-san, I will have to leave again. There is so much I still need to do."

She glared at him, eyes filling with tears again. "No!" she pounded her small fists to his chest. "I won't let you!" she cried out. "You almost died once because of those pilots! I won't let you go back to them and die! Life is too precious to waste in some war. I won't let you throw your life away!"

"Onee-san," he whispered. "I have a new mission. I must fulfill it or die trying to. That is the way of a soldier's life."

"Didn't you just hear me? Life is a gift! You can't just throw that gift away!"

"Onee-san, I once had to explain to someone that when caught up in battle after battle, you tend to think you can change things yourself. What I didn't realize at the time was that I, too, thought I could change things by myself. Then reality came when the mobile suit I was piloting exploded. It was harrowing to be reminded that I was just a Gundam solider, just like I was explaining to that someone, and all I did was change one person, not everything like I had unknowingly come to believe. But by changing one person, by helping that person realize his mistakes and what he was doing, I changed far more than a war ever could. I was left, drifting into space and loosing my memories, but still very content. I knew then that what I did to just one person mattered. That's what stops wars and brings peace. By changing people's minds, one at a time, and knowing that even if you die trying to help one person, it always matters."

"Trowa, listen to yourself! You're talking about purposefully dying so that one person can learn! Millions of people can learn, but without death! You don't need to die to teach someone!"

"But what lessons are learned by mouth?" He sighed. "The colonies accepted Oz, not realizing the mistake it was to put aside their beliefs of pacifism and peace. When they saw the Gundams fight, they felt ashamed and disgusted, even though we were only trying to protect the colonies from themselves. People who see battle are ashamed by it. By seeing it's futility, they will want to shed their weapons and take back their peace. By fighting again, I can show people how war can kill the human spirit. I can teach them, even if I die in the process."

"No!" she said forcefully. "Trowa, when I found you lost and alone, I knew it was because of war that you were alone. So I took you as my brother." She turned away from him, trying to talk between sobs. "Once, a long time ago, I had a brother. Maybe it was wrong of me to replace him with you, but I can't loose another brother."

"Catherine." Beep beep. Trowa looked at Catherine, then climbed back up into the cockpit.

"Yes?"

"Hey, this is Duo. How ya doing buddy?" Trowa stared at the screen. "Thought so. That Wing Zero does all sorts of crazy stuff to people. Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know that Peacemillion called. They're ready to pick us up."

He nodded. "There is something that I have to take care of. Can you wait a few minutes before leaving?"

"What's wrong, Trowa?" That was Quatre. His face came up on the screen. Trowa suddenly knew exactly what he had to do. It wouldn't be much, but it had to be done to help the small Arabian get over his guilt.

"I won't be long, Quatre," he said. Then he turned off his communication line. Climbing back down, he looked at Catherine. She seemed to have gained some control over her sobbing and was looking at him.

"I can't stop you, can I?" she asked quietly. He shook his head. "Trowa, I remember my little brother once snuck into the lion's cage. He stayed there for a night, curled up with them. When I finally found him and demanded why he had done that, he just smiled and looked up at me, saying 'I had to do it.' Do you…Is this…something you have to do?"

"Yes." She sighed and suddenly looked very tired.

"Alright. I obviously can't stop you. But you have to come back alive!" Trowa nodded. "Is there anything you need? When you left before, you didn't exactly take anything personal with you."

"Actually, there is," he replied. He told her what he needed. She looked surprised.

"Of all the things you left behind, all you want are those? They aren't even yours! They belong to Freddie."

"I can pay for them, if that's what he wants."

"No," she responded. "He'll give them to you. Are you sure that's all?"

"That's all. I need them to teach someone. To teach him to forgive himself."

Catherine sighed. "At least you won't use that," she pointed to Wing Zero, "to teach him. Okay, I'll be back in a minute."

Quatre went into his room and sank deep into his bed. The previous day had been very tiring. He had just barely been able to snap Trowa out of the Zero-induced stupor that he had been in yesterday, and then they spent the entire evening in war conferences on how to handle the current situation in outer space with the colonies and the White Fang now that they had attacked the Earth. He took another deep breath and rolled over. That was when something caught his eye. Sitting up, he reached out to his nightstand, picking up a note that had been left by his clock. Upon opening it, he saw it was from Trowa and it asked him to meet the other pilot in private later that day.

He lost all hope of getting any sleep. He lay back down on his bed and just tried to wait until it was time to go. His thoughts prevented him from getting any rest, though. He was worried about what the Heavyarms pilot wanted to talk about. He felt his heart sink deep down. No matter what the conversation, it was eventually going to lead to that day. A small tear ran down his cheek. The day he would regret for the rest of his life. The day he was controlled not only by the Zero-system, but his own grief over the loss of his father. The day he almost killed the person closest to him. The day he betrayed all trust anyone put in him. That cursed day. Despite not knowing exactly what he was doing, he fired on the taller pilot without giving it a second thought. He had betrayed everything he had ever known or was taught.

What would his father have said? His father was probably rolling over in his grave for what he had done. Destroying a colony. A colony was what he was fighting to protect, but he blew it up without so much as batting an eye. How could the other Gundam pilots still fight with him after that? He wasn't worthy of their trust. Especially his. He had tried to kill the only person he had ever completely trusted. He wasn't sure if he was able to face the other Gundam pilot later on. It would mean having to face a part of him that was so ugly, hateful and vengeful, that he wasn't sure he'd survive the encounter. The part of him that killed mercilessly. The part he never even knew he had. The black spot in his soul.

He waited.

Quatre entered the room with his eyes on the floor. Trowa was already there, but he couldn't bare to look at him. The other pilot's eyes were sure to have betrayal and contempt in them. And why not? He felt contempt for himself, so why wouldn't the taller pilot feel the same way? The small blond was fairly certain that he was the first one the other boy ever trusted in a long time, and he had betrayed that trust utterly when he almost killed him. He must have hated him. Allah knew he hated himself. He had taken away the other's memories and with that, a good part of his life. The small Arabian couldn't imagine the sort of torture that was, wandering around without a life. Without any knowledge of who you were or where you came from or why your life had been torn away. He was sure that he was about to be punished for what he had done. He was perfectly willing to take anything that the taller pilot would give him. He deserved it. But it still frightened him.

He didn't have the right to be scared. If the Heavyarms pilot said that they were no longer friends, then that would be the most fitting penance for his sins. Though he would probably suffer that loss for the rest of his life, it would be appropriate. It would only be a small price to pay for the crimes he committed to everyone. But it still scared him. How could he live after knowing such a good friend was so totally lost to him? How could he live knowing that he was the one who had killed the friendship?

Keeping his eyes downcast, he walked across the room and sat down. His eyes continued to avoid his punisher, and merely awaited sentencing. It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn't face those eyes. Perhaps that would be a worse punishment. Just facing him.

"Quatre?" He couldn't tell what emotions that soft voice held. He never really could, but he was anxious to find out what his penance was to be for his betrayal. He wanted to get this over with, though deep down in his heart he knew it never would be.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, not trusting his own voice. If he tried to talk, then he just might break down and cry. Crying may bring pity, and he wanted the punishment to be as harsh as possible. That was what he needed, what he wanted, so he kept quiet.

"Why won't you look at me?"

His head shot up, though still avoiding the other's eyes. He looked back down to the floor, turning his head even farther from him. It was a fair question, but how could he answer that? How could he keep from crying in grief? Words started to fall out of his mouth.

"Because I'm afraid." A sob catched in his throat, but he fought it back down. He blinked his eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"Of what?"

"Your eyes. They'll show me what I deserve and I'm afraid to see it." He shouldn't have said that. Why couldn't the other boy just hand down punishment? This was pure agony!

"Ah." He sat down next to him. "You still feel guilty don't you?" The pilot of Sandrock couldn't say anything. He had said too much already, and he just wished that the other Gundam pilot would hurry up and punish him. He didn't deserve forgiveness, of that he was certain. Who could ever forgive someone of something so horrible? The black on his soul was there and nothing could cleanse it. The black soul had destroyed the lives of thousands. All those lives it destroyed, including probably the most precious one to him. Though that life was back now, the it had pulled it away from the other pilot without a second thought on that day. No, he certainly didn't deserve forgiveness. Not after that.

Suddenly, Trowa took Quatre's chin in both hands and pulled his face up to meet his. The Arabian tried to fight it, but his heart wasn't in it. Facing those eyes may be the punishment, but he just couldn't stand it. He knew of his betrayal, wasn't that enough? Did he have to face the betrayed eyes and see the pain he knew he caused? Was this his penance? "Quatre, look at me and tell me what you see," he commanded. Facing no other option, he obeyed. He just had to make sure he didn't cry. He did not deserve pity.

His eyes locked onto Trowa's and he was astonished. Any self-control he had at that moment was lost.

"I see…" he sobbed. "I see olive green orbs floating in a white sea of your eyes, surrounded by a pale, creamy continent of your face. The olive orbs that always hide everything with sadness are now the mirror I look into every morning. They show compassion, empathy, hope, happiness, faith, trust, wisdom, laughter, calm, patience, a form of love, forgiveness I don't deserve," the words poured out of his mouth like a river as he saw everything in those eyes. Everything he thought he had stolen and betrayed. How was it they were still there? Hadn't he destroyed all the trust, hope, and happiness the taller pilot had when he fired on him on that day? But something else was in those green orbs. "Regret? Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?" The quiet pilot turned his head away from him. This time, he was the one unable to face the blonde's eyes. Why? He had nothing to feel bad about. It was him who destroyed a colony and fired on a trusted friend.

"I should have been able to help you on that day," he answered quietly. His voice barely audible. "I should have been able to stop you sooner." He closed his eyes.

"How could you have? It was one thing if I was controlled by that cursed Zero-system, but I was also mad with grief over my father's death." Quatre sobbed again as tears welled up in his eyes. He could not stop them anymore and they flowed like a stream. "I so wanted to make him proud of me. Instead, I have dishonored him and my family when I destroyed that colony. I betrayed him even further when I almost killed you, the only one I've ever trusted completely. I don't see how you can forgive me." He wiped the tears away. "You have nothing to regret about that day. You could not stop me anymore than my father could stop me from piloting Sandrock. You shouldn't feel guilty about what I did." He came here expecting punishment, but instead he was consoling the other pilot. Life was almost funny that way. Somehow, punishment upon him didn't seem so important.

"Because as you said, you weren't in control. I can empathize with you about the Zero-system. That thing packs one hell of a punch." The taller pilot paused, as if he was trying to gather his words. "If I can't blame myself not being able to control you, why should you blame yourself for what you couldn't control?" The small Arabian lowered his eyes, the tears still flowing. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the Heavyarms pilot open his eyes and look directly at him. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"Of course." How could he forget? It was that day he made his first real friend. He could never loose that.

"I tried to kill you, you know." Somehow, that statement couldn't compare to what he had done with the Zero-system. With Wing Zero, he had destroyed a colony and very nearly killed the taller boy.

"But you didn't come close to succeeding. I did."

"That doesn't matter. The fact is, I tried to kill you. I threw everything I had at you until you hit a part of me I hadn't felt in a long time. You tried to kill me. I think we're even now."

"Perhaps." It did make sense. Trowa had almost died trying to reach a part in Quatre's blackened soul that he had closed away, the same way that when they first met, Trowa tried to kill him before he struck something inside Trowa. Maybe he wasn't as responsible as he originally thought. "But that colony I destroyed." He once more looked down, completely ashamed. It was still a breech of trust with the colonies. He was supposed to fight for them, not against them, no matter what their positions. "You may have your life back now, but I can never give that back to its people. They were completely innocent, but I killed every one of them by destroying their homes without a second thought. I am not worthy of Sandrock."

"I am not worth of Sandrock." Trowa saw exactly where this line of thought was headed. Though he understood it completely, he could not allow such a delicate, small boy do what he wanted to do. Before coming here, Trowa had had a very long discussion with the other Gundam pilots on how Quatre acted after the Zero-system. Duo and Wu Fei didn't provide much help, but Heero provided the most simple and powerful explanation of how Quatre felt.

"He didn't care whether he lived or died. Give him a purpose and he'd follow it, not caring if he was killed in the process. The only thing that helped was telling him to stay alive until he found you."

Trowa didn't find that very comforting. Quatre needed to stay alive to fight for the colonies, the same for everyone else. Being willing to die in the proper circumstances was one thing, but disregard for your own life was another. Obviously the fragile Arabian had fell into a deep depression that he was still fighting to get out of. From what he had observed since the other came in, he was climbing up out of the dark hole. But he was at a delicate stage where he could easily fall back down. He would have to word things carefully.

"Quatre," the taller said softly. "Don't go down that path. Heero says that the only way to live a good life is to follow your emotions, but this is one time that you can't." How could he convince him that living was more important? Maybe he could use all that guilt against him. "If you go down that self destructive path, you will betray your father once more and you will never be able to make peace with him or the colonies." The small blond swallowed the information, cutting off his tears. The green-eyed pilot did not want to loose such a good friend. So few people had been so willing to trust and open up to him. Such a friend was priceless and he refused to lose him.

He offered what he thought to be the best advice possible for someone in such grief. "You can only rid yourself of that guilt by helping the colonies." His eyes filled with tears again.

"But all those people I killed…" The taller pilot was surprised at exactly how much this was affecting the frail Arabian. He quickly reminded himself that the boy he was talking to was a Gundam pilot. He could not be frail. And yet, in his current state, overwhelmed with the grief of not only his father, but grief for to colony he destroyed and the pain he inflicted on his friend, he seemed like he could shatter with but a touch.

Trowa knew his next words were going to have to be chosen very carefully. Quatre was obviously using the destruction of a colony to sink back into the dark depths of depression. "Quatre," he started carefully. "Quatre, I believe you to be an honorable man." His tears continued anew. "Therefore, I ask you what is more honorable. Helping those you hurt, or doing what you're talking about?" The smaller pilot sat in long silence considering the two. The pilot of Heavyarms felt another pang of guilt over not helping the pilot of Sandrock sooner. If he had only been able to stop him sooner, he wouldn't be feeling all this agony. Realizing what he was thinking, he bottled up his guilt and stowed it away. The tears the small blond shed slowly stopped.

"Helping." He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. "But isn't the best way to help the colonies to get rid of that which is a threat to them?" This was definitely not going to be easy. Perhaps it was time to bring out the reason he had called the Arabian down here.

"But isn't the best way to help the colonies to get rid of that which is a threat to them?" Quatre knew how Trowa would probably answer, but he had to hear it anyway. The taller pilot had convinced him that he shouldn't feel guilty of what he had done that day, but he still did. The green-eyed boy took a deep breath and put his hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"Definitely not in this case. By doing that, you won't be able to help them, you'll hurt your father again, and you'll betray me again." His head shot up once more and he stared at the other pilot. He refused to betray his friend like that again. The Heavyarms pilot continued. "You'll be taking away the only person I've ever trusted. In the span of a few hours, you broke down the wall of solitude that I had spent years building. I was able to feel again." The small Arabian knew when he was talking about. It was the time they first played that holy music. The taller pilot twisted around, reaching behind the Sandrock pilot. He pulled out two boxes. "I want you to feel again as well. Not feel guilt or sadness, but everything you used to show." One of the boxes was long, narrow, and slender. The other was long as well, but it was shaped like…

"A violin?!" He must have been dreaming. This could not be real. He had called him down here for this and not punishment? The quiet boy truly was a friend to be cherished. His hand ran over the strings lightly and he could almost feel the need to take up the bow.

"I once promised that I would play music with you again." The green eyed boy started to assemble his flute. The small blond wondered when he had made that promise. The urge to play came again, but he pushed it down. He still didn't feel worthy of such a sacred gift. He still had a black spot on his soul. Music required purity, and he was far from pure. His companion must have read his expression.

He piped a few notes. "After I left you I made that promise. I think it's about time I fulfilled that promise." He piped a few more.

"I don't deserve…" Quatre was suddenly speechless as Trowa started to play the harmony that sparkled. Once more he was by the stream under the canopy of trees with sunlight pouring through and a gentle breeze to make the stream sparkle. His heart still heavy, though now somewhat lighter, picked up the violin. Perhaps, just this once, he could play music with a dirty soul. A few notes later, he tuned the instrument to perfection. He joined in with his violin, letting the music fully engulf him. The sparkling stream before him suddenly shined like a star as a peace he had not felt since the last time he played this blessed song suddenly surrounded him. The peace of the music penetrated him, lifting up his heavy heart. He still felt guilty. But somehow, at this moment, that wasn't important anymore. Tears slid down his cheek once more unchecked.

"Thank you, Trowa," he whispered. It didn't really need to be said, but Trowa piped a few notes in response. Quatre let the peace fill his spirit again. Maybe, just maybe, he did deserve forgiveness for his crimes.