Breathing was agony. Staying concious was agonizing. His whole world was quickly becoming a world of pain. Quatre fought to stay concious, for just a little bit longer. Blood matted his once silky blonde hair, flowing freely , as he continued to manuver his Gundam admist a sea of Leos and Aries. A red haze was all that he could see, as Sandrock shuddered violently with incessant forceful blows from the surrounding suits.

Only when Quatre blinked his magnificent, now pain-dialted, eyes, did he realize that the red haze he was seeing was due to the steady stream of blood running into his eyes. He hardly noticed as he ripped into another Leo, paying no heed to his other, more sever wounds. A piece of metal scrapnel was firmly lodged into his side, tearing a bloody gash right down to the bone, and he was sure that he had a broken rib or two.

Everytime that Quatre moved, pain shot through his torso, setting his already laboring lungs on fire, white light bursting behind his eyes. His vision wavered in and out of focus, as he waded in a pile of fallen suits.

"More time, more time. Just a little more time." Quatre told himself over and over. "Those bombs will go off at any moment, destroying this whole base..." he thought grimly.

He snapped out of his grim, hazy thoughts, when a voice crackled over the comm link.

"Quatre, get out of there now!" Duo shouted to him, already making a hasty retreat with his Gundam. Looking around him, Quatre realized that he was the only one left, in the midst of the swarming Leos. Everyone had, or was in the process of making their own desperate retreats.

Praying silently, Quatre flipped the thruster switch, which would take him away from the hellish fight. Nothing. Blearily, he checked the screen. System malfunction, thrusters not working. Quatre looked around him. He was directly in the middle of the fray, and would never be able to fight his way out in time. to escape the explosion of the bombs.

As it was, the four other Gundams would just make it, if they weren't followed by anyone. Closing his eyes in resignition, the Arabian pilot muttered a prayer in Arabic. He shouted into the comm link, to make sure that he was heard.

"Get as far away as you can! The bombs will go off any second now, get out of here. If I stay, it will buy you your escape!" He broke off, gasping in sudden pain, as a suit pummeled him from behind, before receiving a wickedly curved sabre, in it's side. Fresh blood flowed into his eyes, and Quatre realized that his head was resting on a bloodied screen. His vision began to gray around the edges.

"Quatre!" It was Trowa's voice, thick with concern for his lover. Quatre reached up a shaky hand to run a finger over the picture of Trowa he kept in his cockpit. It was a great one of the tall pilot, smiling, as he rarely did. He caressed the photo, a trail of blood smearing across the smooth surface.

"Trowa, " he whispered, " I love you." He was wracked with a sudden fit of coughing, blood frothing between his lips. He whispered something in Arabic, that only Trowa would understand.

"NO!" Trowa cried, the word tearing from his chest, resounding throughout the link. Quatre caught Heavyarms turning around, to head back to where he was, and was about to protest, when the bombs went off, and his world was thrust into darkness.

Please send me any questions of comments!! Really, I adore the feedback on these things. I know, it isn't really good yet, but hey, I haven't been watching long. I thought I'd try my hand at it eh? And yes, Quatre IS my favorite character. Hee hee. Please send feedback to: dkaz02@aol.com. Thanks!!