September2000
3+4
//.....//=inner thoughts
Angst

Sorry to make the warning so big there, but I've heard of some people who didn't like this fic, cause they felt it was too sad. Fair enough. So now you've been properly warned. This fic deals with rape, and all that that implies. So it's going to be sad.

(///_~ ?: As compared to all those other rape fics that are what, funny?

*kel*: Stop it Trowa you aren't helping.)

Now on with the thanks. I have to thank Amber. For inspiring me, and being there for me, and all her help! I could not have done this without her! And of course, I have to thank Jade! For beta-reading, and helping me work out all the little things. And for sticking up for me, and my fic. You know I love you! With friends like these, who needs a muse?

The two boys entered the safehouse solemnly. It had taken all of Heero's strength just to get Trowa back here. He had finally caught up with HeavyArms as he reached the location of their mission. They had both been a little shocked to find the entire area deserted.

There had been no mobile suit factory, in fact there had been nothing. Just a flat, desolate plain. He doubled checked the coordinates, but they were at the right spot. And that bothered him. Why would someone send them here? But he didn't have time to worry about that.

Trowa was refusing to exit HeavyArms, and he wouldn't switch on his com link either. Finally Heero had had to leave Wing Zero, and climb up to the cockpit himself. What he found there surprised him. Trowa was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was swollen. And he was shaking. Heero tried to comfort him, but Trowa just tuned him out.

Now matter how Heero threatened or cajoled, Trowa refused to move. He said he'd just sit there and die. Quatre didn't want him, so what was the use? He'd rather rot away in some barren field. After all other methods failed, Heero posed the question that had been on his mind. Who the hell sent us out here? And why?

And it was as if a light came on in Trowa. He looked up, with fear evident in his eyes. As they looked at each other, the realization dawned on them. Someone had wanted them gone. Why they had wanted the two of the out here was a mystery, since they seemed to be in no danger. So it must have something to do with one of the other pilots. They mutually agreed that they should check on the others. Heero went back to Wing Zero and the two took off. Trowa debated with himself the whole time.

//I'll just go, and check on Quatre. I'll just see that he's all right. And then I'll leave.//

Quatre didn't want to see him, and Trowa would honor that, although it would be the hardest thing he had ever done. He followed Heero back, as dread knotted his stomach. When they finally arrived back at the house, Trowa refused to go into the bedroom to see Quatre. He asked Heero to inform the blonde that he was here, and if Quatre was all right with it Trowa would check on him, and leave.

Heero glared at him, clearly thinking that Trowa was acting childish, but the taller boy wasn't backing down. The Japanese boy sighed, and hobbled to the bedroom. He swung the door open, and his eyes widened at the scene that unfolded before them. It was that night again. Instead of seeing the ratty, old bed he saw the gleaming four poster one, and instead of the warped, wood floors, he saw the highly polished ones, and instead of the little blonde, he saw his lover.

He was transported back to his and Duo's room, the night Duo had died. It was the same, it was all the same. The blood, so much blood.

"No."

He fell to his knees, his legs unable to support him. He saw the body on the floor. It was Duo, sprawled out, coated in blood. He couldn't deal with this. Not again. He whimpered, and curled up into a ball. He began to sway back and forth.

"Make it go away," he whispered, "make it go away." He kept chanting to himself, his eyes never leaving the macabre sight before him, and at the same time, never seeing it.

Trowa had been leaning against the wall, trying not to get his hopes up. He shut his eyes, willing them not to tear up again. How was it that one person could affect him like this? Why did he feel like Quatre had ripped his heart out? He was just a soldier, a nameless fighter, who wasn't meant to live to see the final battle, let alone form any sort of romantic relationship. He would do good to remember that.

//Quatre was right. It wasn't meant to be. I was stupid to think that I could ever have that kind of love.//

His control faltered, and a shiny, crystalline tear rolled down his cheek.

//But I did think it, didn't I? I thought that Quatre was my soulmate. That I had finally found the one person in the entire world that could make me whole.//

Another tear followed the first, and then another, until they were steadily running down his face.

//Oh, Quatre. I love you so much.//

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It wouldn't be right for him to see Quatre in this state. He tried to compose himself. That's when he realized how long it had been. Heero had been in there for a while. Trowa decided to creep down the hallway, to see if he could ascertain what was going on. He saw the bedroom door open, and Heero shaking in it.

Instantly his chest tightened. He didn't want to see what was on the other side of that door. But as if of their own accord, his feet carried him forward. And when he entered the room his blood ran cold.

//This is just another nightmare. This isn't real, this isn't real.//

He saw his little Quatre lying nude, and motionless in the center of the room.

//This isn't real. No, this can't be real.//

His breath caught in his throat. He ran to Quatre, and knelt by his side. Tentatively he reached out and touched a bruised, crimson shoulder. And he knew that this was not dream. This was real, this was true, this was.....

"Quatre!", came the anguished cry.

With trembling hands he delicately rolled Quatre onto his back. He gasped as the full extent of the Arabian's injuries came into view. His pale hair was matted down with blood, which was still dripping from the gash on his temple. His creamy skin was completely covered with bruises, and welts. Some appeared to be older than others. And they covered his entire frame. From neck to legs he was black, and blue. And his face was swollen.

There were long, thin cuts across the expanse of his stomach. And his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw. Trowa reached out, and smoothed some of the tangled hair out of Quatre's eyes. He looked so peaceful. Like he had already traveled to the heavens. Trowa latched on to a limp hand, entwining their fingers.

"Please Quatre. Wake up. Don't leave me here. Wake up."

But Quatre didn't stir. Trowa ran his fingers over Quatre's cheeks, grazing the rising wounds. He released Quatre's hands, and lightly shook the blonde's shoulders.

"Please wake up. I'm sorry that I left you. I'm so sorry. Just wake up."

Tears rolled down from those suffering green eyes. They dropped onto the abused skin, and intermingled with the blood. Trowa knew Quatre wasn't going to awaken. This wasn't some sick joke, or even some gruesome nightmare. This was reality. And in reality his Quatre was gone. Trowa had fled, and left Quatre at the mercy of whatever beast had done this to him.

//This is all my fault.//

He gathered the blonde into his arms, and began to rock them. Oh, God his angel was dead.

//You're gone, and it's all my fault. I couldn't save you.//

He hugged Quatre's frail body closer. As if trying to transfer life into it. He pleaded to every deity he knew of to spare his love. Trowa offered up his own life as a replacement. But they shunned him.

//This is all my fault. I deserve this punishment, but not Quatre. He never deserved this.//

He cradled his precious bundle closer, vowing to never let go. He looked at the ethereal face, now defiled by bruises, but beautiful nonetheless. And he decided that if Quatre was dead, then he would join him.

"I'll never let you go, my love. I want to die here in your arms. Wait for me, I'll be with you soon."

Delicately, as if he would break he pulled Quatre's slack frame to him, and placed a tender kiss on those cracked, bloodied lips. It was only then did he comprehend that the Arabian was breathing. It was so shallow, it wasn't even noticeable, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was breathing. He was alive, but barely. Trowa's heart stopped. He thought he had imagined it.

But as he watched, the blonde's chest unsteadily rose, and fell. He began to shake so badly, he had to lower Quatre back to the floor. He started to breath heavily, so afraid that if he moved he would break the spell, and Quatre would be lifeless again. But as the blonde continued with his labored breaths, Trowa knew he had been given a second chance. And he wasn't going to waste it.

He jumped up, and ran to Heero. In his torment over Quatre, he had completely forgotten about the Japanese boy. Heero was still balled up in the doorway wobbling, and whispering to himself.

"Make it go away," he pleaded. Trowa knelt in front of him, and shook him roughly.

"Heero."

But Heero didn't respond, didn't seem to see him. He had gone into a catatonic state. And no matter what Trowa said, Heero paid no attention. At seeing Quatre his mind had relived Duo's death, and it wasn't something he could deal with. So he reverted in a trance like state, willing the horrors in front of him to disappear.

He saw Trowa, but his brain didn't register it. Trowa looked back at Quatre. Heard his breathing become grating, and knew they had very little time. He slapped Heero's face, but Heero just continued his riveted gaze at Quatre's prone form. Trowa gave up. He went back to Quatre and squeezed his hand.

"Please don't leave me Quatre. I'll save you. Just hold on. For me."

Then he took off running. He went out the front door, and ran straight to the truck parked in front of the house. He offered silent thanks to whomever allowed them this one little break. He unlocked it, and started it up. Then he ran back into the house, and grabbed the blanket off the couch. He returned to the bedroom, and wrapped Quatre in it.

That was first time Trowa noted the condition of the room. There were little pools of blood drying on the floor. And bloody handprints scattered across the wall. The bed was bloodstained, and ripped up. And there were severed pieces of rope at the base of the desk chair.

Whomever had done this to his Quatre, had been methodical, and they had taken their time. And when Trowa found them, he would pay them back tenfold. Then Trowa picked up his broken love, and carried him to the waiting car. He placed Quatre on the seat, trying not to jar his already damaged body. He fastened the seatbelt around him, praying it didn't injure him further.

Then he went back inside, and squatted by Heero. The dark haired boy was still whispering to himself. Trowa drew in a deep breath, and hauled the boy over his shoulder. He carried him to the car, and placed him next to Quatre, buckling him in as well. Then he climbed in, positioning the blonde between them. He took off, and they sped to the nearest town. They were about twenty miles from the city, and Trowa knew they didn't have a minute to spare. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and raced along the road. They reached the edge of the city in ten minutes.

He spotted a blue hospital sign, and followed it until he saw the large complex coming up on his right. The tires shrieked as he spun the wheel, and drove the truck into the ambulance unloading area. Some of the drivers yelled at him, that he was in the wrong spot, but one look from Trowa and they shut their mouths. He put the car into park, and jumped out, screaming that his friends needed help. One of the drivers ran inside, and returned with a gurney, and a horde of doctors and nurses.

Trowa undid Quatre's seatbelt, and pulled him out cautiously. He laid Quatre on the bed, and watched as the group rolled his love off, and the mob was swallowed by the building. With a dull ache in his heart and terror in his mind, he rushed to Heero's side, and pulled him out too. He placed him on the other waiting bed, and followed the group inside.

He saw the doctors pushing Quatre's gurney into one of the operating rooms. He ran to the doors, as they swung shut. A crowd of nurses were gathered in front, blocking his view.

"Quatre! Quatre!" He tried to push past the nurses at the door, but they held him back.

"Godamn you! Let me in! That's my...He's my..."

Trowa kept struggling, desperate to learn what was happening to Quatre. But as his helplessness hit him, he slumped down. He sagged to his knees, shoulders quaking with repressed sobs.

"Please tell me he'll be all right," he choked.

One of the nurses knelt beside him, and put her arm around his shoulders. She was dismayed to see that the boy's clothes were covered in blood. She helped him to his feet.

"Why don't you go, and fill out his paperwork. There's nothing you can do."

Trowa nodded brokenly as he wandered to the nurse's stand to get the required papers. He filled each one out diligently, as if the menial task could help him forget what was happening. He filled out Heero's too. He finished them, and returned them to the nurse on duty. Trowa went back to his seat, and hung his head in shame.

//I said I'd die for you Quatre. And yet, when you needed me, I wasn't there for you. If you die, then I'll never forgive myself. But I won't have to worry, love, because if you leave then I'm following you. Please don't leave without me.//

Then he succumbed fully to his breaking heart, and cried. He sat there for what felt like days, his grief consuming him. He saw numerous doctors and nurses coming and going from Quatre's room. He could hear the beeping of the machines they had him hooked to. Each time one of them sounded, his heart constricted. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. His head snapped up, and he looked into the eyes of a sympathetic doctor.

"Are you with the boy they brought in earlier?", he asked. Trowa nodded frightened.

"Is...is...Quatre going to be all right?"

Trowa held his breath, fearing the worst. The doctor looked at the chart in his hand.

"Quatre? No, I was talking about Heero Yuy. Are you with him?"

Trowa let his breath out dejectedly, and nodded. His eyes strayed back to Quatre's noisy room. The doctor noticed this, and placed a hand comfortingly on his arm.

"They're doing the best they can." Trowa nodded again, knowing if he spoke the tears would start.

//Their best isn't good enough. They have to save him. They *have* to.//

The doctor cleared his throat, and continued.

"As to Mr. Yuy, he should be fine. He is suffering from tremendous shock right now, I'm assuming from seeing your friend in the condition he was in. We've got him sedated, and he should be better when he wakes up. But the mind is a tricky thing, and we won't know anything for certain until he wakes up. He can't have visitors right now, but he's sleeping so it wouldn't matter."

Trowa nodded. The doctor sighed, and headed up to the nurse's desk. He examined the file on Quatre, hoping to have some news for the stoic boy sitting there. He was surprised at the last name. He walked back to Trowa.

"You're friend, Quatre, isn't Quatre Winner from L4, is he?" Trowa looked up, and nodded.

"His sister, Iria, is in the next city doing some research work for the hospital there. She's a doctor, you know."

Trowa shook his head. He didn't know much about Quatre's sisters, except that he had a lot of them.

"Since she's his next of kin, I'll notify her immediately."

Trowa nodded to show he'd understood, and then dropped his eyes back to the floor, effectively dismissing the doctor. The doctor walked away, shaking his head. That strange boy was really taking this hard. And he wondered what Quatre Winner meant to him.

Trowa was taking it hard. The thought that he maybe could have prevented this from happening to his Quatre kept running through his mind. And he would have given anything to take Quatre's place right now. He put all the blame on himself. The constant hum of the machines was like the beating of the tell-tale heart.

Each beep cut further into his soul, and made him sink deeper into depression. It had been five hours since they had brought Quatre in, and he'd heard nothing as to his condition. He felt so useless. Quatre needed him, and he couldn't do anything. It was killing him.

Just then, a tall woman with short, honey colored hair rushed up to the nurse's stand. She began frantically talking to the nurse on duty. He saw the nurse pull out a chart, and the woman scanned it. Then she asked a question, and the nurse pointed to him.

She turned around, and fixed a piercing gaze on him. Trowa felt that the woman could see right through him. Then the nurse led her to the room Quatre was in, and she disappeared inside. Trowa looked down at his attire, and finally saw just how bad he looked. His shirt, and pants were stained all over with the Arabian's blood. As were his hands.

He wandered to the closest bathroom, and tried to scrub off as much as he could. But it didn't help. The only thing that could truly purify him was Quatre. He sighed and gave up, returning to his seat just outside Quatre's room. He saw the woman from earlier sitting there. As he approached, she stood. She looked him up, and down, her brow knitted in anger. When he reached her, her hand shot out, and she slapped him hard across the cheek.

"You bastard," she hissed.

Trowa's visible eye widened, and his hand went to touch the stinging flesh. He knew this was Quatre's sister. And he knew he deserved her spite.

"I'm sorry," he whispered not meeting her eyes.

"So, you admit it then," she said, her voice full of loathing. Trowa looked at her, wincing at the hate burning from her eyes.

"I should kill you for what you did to my brother." He looked at her confused, and then it dawned on him.

//Oh, my God. She thinks that I did that to Quatre. And why shouldn't she? I mean I'm standing here covered in his blood. And she's right in a way. I didn't hit him, but I didn't protect him either.//

The green eyed boy slumped into a chair, and placed his head in his hands.

"I...I..didn't do that to him. We found him that way. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't save him," he murmured.

She laughed bitterly.