Arabian Tears

-----part 1-----

"I'm sure he'll be here father," the oldest of the Winner daughters glanced at the clock that hung upon the wall. Quatre was often late to family reunions. His space-heart, while often a boon, could become a curse at these times, she knew, and he often liked to talk walks before the reunion to clear his head.

They could hear the door in the other room open just then.

"I bet that's him now." the girl told her father.

Everyone turned to watch. Then their mouths fell open in utter shock and mortification.

It was Quatre. But it was all wrong. His clothes, which he always kept in pristine condition, were torn and tattered the pink shirt a hand-me-down from his mother that he treasured more than all the most expensive suits in the world, was in ruins, and worst of all, his slacks were open, the zipper busted, and his underwear had slipped down, the ruined elastic waistband no longer holding them up, the head of his penis visible. His head was bowed in utter shame and his hands were behind his back, as if he expected to be chastised for disgracing his family.

"Allah." was all his father could say. He raced to his son's side a and hugged him. "Who did this to you?" he asked.

Before he could answer, Quatre passed out.

-----part 2-----

Quatre's sisters and the other four pilots gathered around the injured boy and his father. The older Winner male used the coat the older man had been wearing to cover his son and preserve at least some of Quatre's dignity. He saw the pinched expression on Quatre's face. Even unconsciousness offered the boy no comfort.

"Where's Rashid?" He asked. He was trying to keep his voice neutral, but everyone could hear the dark edge creeping in.

Rashid returned with the Winner Family's personal medical team. "I got the doctors." he told Quatre's father.

"Good work, Rashid." He stood back as the medical team assessed Quatre's injuries. He became deeply concerned when they placed Quatre on a stretcher. "We must find whoever did this before they hurt someone else." He turned to the Manganac's leader. "Take your men. Find the person who hurt my son." He fingered the ornamental dagger in his hands, with a grieving expression on his face. "I am a pacifist." he told it. "I vowed never to commit a violent act upon another living soul. But what does it mean if I do nothing this time? As a pacifist I am bound by a code of non-violence. But as a father, I am bound to avenge my son's honor." It would be so easy to chose vengeance, he knew. But would that choice be the right one? Would knowing that his father had thrown away his beliefs for Quatre's sake make Quatre feel badly? That was the last thing Quatre's father wanted. He put his head in his hands and wept as his daughters offered consolation.

"Sir."

Quatre's father looked up and saw the unibanged pilot standing there. "Trowa," he remembered.

Trowa nodded. "I will avenge Quatre." he said, darkly. 

"Whoever did this will not escape justice." Wufei added.

"Or Shinigami." Duo chimed in, his voice both comfortingly cheerful and ominously dark.

"I do not approve of using force to solve problems." Quatre's father told them darkly. He'd made up his mind, now. "So I won't use it to stop you from dong what must be done."

-----part 3-----

Quatre's eyes opened and he found himself looking up into a pair of eyes that were cold and dark with anger.

He started to speak, but a long , thin finger touched his lips.

Long pale blonde hair caressed Quatre's face as his visitor looked down at him "Rumor is that you've been... shall we say... assaulted."

Quatre nodded feeling very awkward and embarrassed. He wasn't surprised the man was there. He'd no doubt come to visit as Milliardo Peacecraft. Still, it disturbed him that the man knew of his assault. It meant the rapist had been bragging about his latest conquest. 

"You didn't deserve that." Milliardo told Quatre. "You of all people."

"How did you find out?" Quatre asked.

"Are you kidding?" Milliardo asked. "The press is going bananas over it."

"Oh no!" Quatre wanted to crawl under a rock and die. 

"They've been hounding everyone you've so much as given a passing glance to and asking them how they feel about what happened to you. Truth is, they really don't give a damn. They just do it for ratings."

"Why couldn't they just mind their own business?" Quatre groaned. "I can't even show my face in public anymore. I'm ruined." He didn't struggle as Milliardo took him into his arms and rocked him, soothingly.

-----TBC-----