Disclaimers and other Warnings: Story mine. Characters not. No sue. Was that simple 'nuff for ya? ^_^; Anyhoo, I wouldn't recommend reading this if you are a very religious person…it's not like I'm having anyone worship the devil or something along those lines. Just thought I'd mention that…

BTW, flames welcome. I need a good laugh.

"Quatre," a familiar voice called his name…who, he couldn't remember. "Quatre, please, don't give up, don't die. It's not worth it." The dying Arabian felt a warm hand cover his, but could not find the strength to respond to it. Something clicked in his mind; he could place the voice now. Trowa Barton.

"Trowa?" Now his own voice was unrecognizable. Hearing movement at his side, he opened his once bright cerulean eyes a slit to see his friend leaning over him. "What happened?"

"Someone sabotaged Sandrock. The entire left leg fell apart a few minutes into the fight and half a dozen Aires and two Tauruses closed in and attacked. Don't you remember?" Flickers of images swept past his mind's eye, he remembered his surprise and shock when his mecha's leg was suddenly not there, leaving it unstable and causing it to fall in a very vulnerable position to the ground. Then the other mobile suits had swept in, firing and slicing at the fallen Gundam with no mercy.

"Hai, I remember now." Quatre paused, considering, then decided to be blunt. There was no way to be eloquent about this. "I'm dying?"

"Don't talk like that," Trowa said quickly. "You can pull through." He swallowed hard and blinked back…Tears? I'm crying? "Sally Po said there's a good chance for a full recovery if you make it out of the woods." Only a five percent chance you'll even live, though. Oh, Quatre, what will we do if you…if you die? You held us together. What will I do?

"Where are we?" The blond's already weak voice sounded fainter.

"A safehouse. The others are here, too." Quatre opened his mouth to say something, but the brown-haired youth stopped him. "Quatre, don't speak. Save your energy for living." Dull cerulean bored into crystalline green; they plainly conveyed "I don't want to live anymore." Emerald eyes widened as the Heavyarms pilot realized this. "No, Quatre, don't give up. We need you. The Colonies and the Earth need you." As an afterthought, he added, "I need you." Trowa was rewarded with a slight smile, though a weak parody of the Arabian's cheerful grin, it meant much more to him. "Rest now."

"Aa."

After the blond pilot had fallen asleep, Trowa rejoined Duo, Heero and Wufei in a small room just outside of Quatre's door. "Where's Sally?"

"She'll be back soon." Heero assured him.

"What'd she say?"

"He shouldn't be alive after what happened. She nearly lost him before the transfusion," one of Trowa's hands rose to the mark on the opposite arm where the medic had drawn blood from him to save Quatre's life. "It's like he doesn't want to survive." Duo's normally cheerful tone was subdued.

"He doesn't," the lanky boy said quietly. Steady gazes did not waver. The other three knew that, given a chance, dying from wounds received in a battle would be an honorable way to escape the turmoil of their world torn by war.

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TBC…? I dunno, only if I get some C&C!!!!!!!!! *zero deathglare* I. Need. Writer. Fuel.