Hope From the Past - Part 8 by
Keara
Standard disclaimers apply
//Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real//
“Crawling” by: Linkin Park
Meiran frowned as she approached Duo’s bedside. The young man
looked to be in the midst of some horrible nightmare. He was thrashing
about . . . well as much as he could anyway . . . and he was drenched
in sweat. Groans and whimpers left his lips, anguished cries of terror
filling the room.
She took a glance over at the other bed, noticing that Quatre was
trying to get up. There was no way his body could support himself
though, and that was just what Catherine . . . who was forcing him
to stay down . . . kept trying to tell him. He was too weak to try
and get out of bed, his legs were useless to him at the moment, they
would never support his weight.
A doctor quickly approached Duo’s bedside, readying a syringe
as he got closer. Quatre screamed at him to stay away, but the doctor
ignored Quatre’s cries, grabbing Duo’s arm and pressing
the needle into Duo’s skin.
Suddenly Duo’s eyes flew open, terror filling them. They flashed
with a sharp violet light, and abruptly the doctor that had touched
Duo was thrown across the room by an invisible force. The doctor hit
the wall, crashing down to break a table as he fell.
Meiran gasped, shocked and frightened as Duo’s eyes returned
to normal, the light fading from within them as the sedative took
effect. The doctor groaned as he rose to his feet, reluctantly approaching
Duo’s side. Soldiers swarmed the room, surrounding Duo’s
bed, aiming their weapons down at the unconscious young man.
“Leave him alone!” Quatre pleaded, still struggling to
get out of bed.
“Take him out of here . . . to the isolation room!” The
doctor ordered, anger seeping from his every movement.
“No!” Quatre screamed. “No, don’t take him
away . . . please . . . don’t take him away!”
Meiran stepped forward, grasping the doctor’s arm. “Can’t
you leave him here? He’s unconscious . . . he can’t hurt
anyone.” Meiran said, trying to get them to keep Duo here. It
was obvious that Quatre didn’t want to be left alone without
his friend.
The doctor wrenched his arm free of her grasp. “You saw what
he did!” He seethed, gesturing wildly to Duo’s unconscious
form. “He didn’t even touch me and he threw me across
a room! He’s dangerous!” Then he glared at Quatre. “That
one’s probably just as dangerous . . . who knows what they’re
capable of together!” The man yelled, pushing Meiran aside as
the soldiers wheeled Duo’s bed away.
Meiran could only watch, concerned as they took him away. She knew
that if he was in isolation that she wouldn’t be allowed to
visit with him. In his fragile state of mind, he would take this badly.
Meiran could only hope that Heero and the others would get back soon,
before something horrible happened.
*****
Trowa frowned, not liking this at all. It had taken too long to get
here, well over a day, much too long in Trowa’s opinion. And
meeting with the Nomads was a bad idea, he was certain of it. They
were unpredictable, and known to do whatever they felt necessary to
achieve their goals. However, he couldn’t go against orders,
so he, Wufei, and Heero stood guard at the door to the room they were
in, waiting for the Nomads to enter through the only other door.
Treize, Sally, and Noin were sitting at a long table in the center
of the room. The table was exactly the same distance from either door.
Heero had already been around the room twice, checking for electronic
devices or explosives of any kind. Nothing had been found.
Only a few minutes later, the other door opened. Trowa, Wufei and
Heero stood ready for anything as four men marched into the room,
the man in front a particularly huge person. Trowa knew from the few
past meetings, that this man was called Rasid Kurama, and he like
all of the other Nomads, was a descendant of Quatre Raberba Winner’s
twenty-nine sisters.
The Nomads followed their own set of rules, their only goal to claim
vengeance against the Talthean race for the crimes they had committed
by taking the Winner heir almost three-hundred years ago. Trowa was
reluctant to consider just what these men and women would do when
they discovered that Quatre was in fact alive.
Rasid and his men ignored the small group already there, going about
on their own inspection of the room to be sure of its security. When
they were satisfied, Rasid and his men walked back to the door, the
three men that had accompanied him taking places to guard while Rasid
opened the door.
That was when the leader of the Nomads walked in. By tradition, the
descendants of Iria Winner took control of leadership, and Zechs Merquise
was her only surviving direct descendant now. Zechs had only recently
taken the role of leader . . . in fact he had changed his name and
hidden himself among the ranks of the soldiers to escape the burden
of leadership in the past. But when the previous leader, his own sister,
Relena was killed in an attack, Zechs resumed his duties. No one knew
for sure what exactly had prompted his return, but most were pretty
certain that it had something to do with Relena’s untimely death.
Zechs took a seat across the table from Treize, his second in command
Une sitting on one side while Rasid took a seat on Zechs’s other
side. “It is good to see you again, Noin.” Zechs commented,
casting a brief glance in the young woman’s direction.
Noin nodded. “Yes, it’s been a long time, Zechs. If not
for the business we have to discuss with you, I doubt we would have
seen each other for a while more.” Noin replied, smiling at
the long-haired leader of the Nomads. It was no secret that the two
of them were attracted to each other, just as it was no secret that
Une and Treize had once had an affair. However, in this time of war,
commitment or marriage were rarities.
“Yes, what business brings you here, old friend?” Zechs
asked, his attention turned to Treize.
Treize sighed. “I am not sure whether to call this good news
or bad news, Zechs.” The older man said, his hands clasped together
in front of him.
“Whatever it is, I assure you I am eager to hear it.”
Zechs said, brushing a wisp of blonde hair back behind one ear. Without
the mask he was much more attractive, Trowa noted.
Treize nodded, taking a file from in front of Noin and placing his
hands over it on the table. “On a recent mission into one of
the Taltheans’ bases, my men made quite an interesting discovery
about what happened to your long lost family member, Quatre Raberba
Winner.” Treize stated.
This got Zechs’s complete attention rather quickly. “Yes,
what did you find?” He almost demanded, keen interest in his
eyes just like the rest of the Nomads in the room.
“He’s alive, Zechs.” Treize said.
Zechs shook his head, holding his hand up. “That is impossible!
Quatre Raberba Winner disappeared almost three hundred years ago.
There is no way he could be . . .”
Treize interrupted him. “I’m afraid there is a way, Zechs.
He has been cryogenically frozen these past years, along with another
youth that was found with him. My men rescued them from their imprisonment
and brought them back to our base where they are receiving medical
treatment. DNA tests prove that he is Quatre Winner.” With that
said, Treize slid the file across the table.
Zechs took it and quickly flipped it open, his eyes scanning over
the contents. “I can’t believe this. Those bastards!”
He quietly seethed, his one hand clenching into a fist as he continued
to read.
Sally spoke up. “Both Quatre and his friend, Duo, are in poor
health. The muscles in their legs and arms have atrophied. They are
undergoing treatment for multiple physical abuses to their bodies
and severe withdrawal and . . .” Sally stopped, her words drifting
off.
“What has happened to the young master?” Rasid nearly
demanded.
Sally swallowed deeply, casting her eyes downward as she spoke. “They
have both been sexually assaulted countless times. The damage to not
only their bodies, but their minds as well, could have irreparable
effects.” Sally handed over another file, one where Trowa could
clearly see a few pictures of Quatre’s injured body when Zechs
opened it. “They have both been traumatized by their captivity
as well they should. Three hundred years of little more than torture
. . . it is amazing that they are alive at all.”
Zechs closed the files, bowing his head as a stray tear escaped his
eye. “Thank you for finding our long lost loved one, Treize.
How soon can he be returned to us?”
“His condition is very severe. I wouldn’t recommend moving
him until we can be sure of his stability. And he seems terrified
to be too long separated from people he knows and trusts . . . unfortunately
he only trusts the people that rescued him.” Sally said.
“Who rescued him? I would like to meet these people to thank
them.” Zechs whispered, the words barely reaching Trowa’s
ears.
Treize gestured to Heero, Wufei and Trowa. “These three. They
are my best men.”
Zechs rose from his seat, striding over to the three of them in only
a few seconds. Then he bowed and thanked each of them, shaking their
hands in gratitude. “Thank you for finding Quatre. My family
is in your debt.” Then Zechs walked to the door, stopping there
for a few moments before he left. “Keep us informed of Quatre’s
condition . . . you can reach us on frequency twenty-nine. We want
our relative returned as quickly as possible.” Then he left,
not waiting around to hear if there was anything else that Treize
had to say.
Une quietly rose from her seat, picking up the files as she stood.
“If you’ll excuse us, we have much to do now that we know
of Quatre’s fate.” Une smiled. “It was good seeing
you again, Treize.”
“Always a pleasure to be in your presence, Lady Une.”
Treize replied, rising from his seat and bowing to her politely, taking
hold of her hand and kissing it gently.
Lady Une blushed slightly, a gentle smile on her face as she turned
and left the room, Rasid and his three men quickly following her.
Trowa was glad that this was over with. Now they could return to base.
Trowa hadn’t liked leaving Quatre in the first place, even if
Catherine was there to keep an eye on him . . . he just had a bad
feeling that something was wrong.
*****
Quatre lay in his bed, sobbing weakly. Beside him, both Catherine
and Meiran tried to soothe him, but nothing they could say would make
him feel any better. Duo had been taken from this room, over a day
ago, only hours after Trowa had left. And now, Quatre couldn’t
sense Duo so well.
If only Quatre were stronger . . . if he wasn’t burdened by
the drugs still in his system, by the weakness of his limbs, perhaps
he could have done something. But he couldn’t, and now Duo was
slipping away from him, the constant presence of Duo’s voice
in his mind was fading from his thoughts. He would be alone again.
He feared the quiet, never wanting to be trapped there again . . .
he didn’t want to lose Duo.
“Where’s Trowa?” Quatre weakly asked, his eyes
burning from all the tears he had shed.
Catherine smiled sadly, brushing her hand over his feverish forehead.
“He hasn’t returned yet from his mission, Quatre. I’m
sure he won’t be much longer.” She replied, trying to
calm him.
Quatre turned away from her, feeling more tired than he could ever
remember being before in his life. He wanted Trowa to come back, knew
that Trowa would fix everything if only he would return from his mission.
But would Trowa return too late to help Duo?
*******
TBC
*******
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