"He was mine, Heero. You had no right to step in and take him. Mister Perfect Soldier couldn't take a single defeat?"
Heero Yuy twisted in his nightmare, the coldly accusing voice of Trowa coming back to haunt him. In his dreams as well as then, he hadn't been able to find the words to explain to the pilot of 03 that Quatre had come to him, not the other way around. That he had been the one to wipe the tears from the Arabian's eyes as he had recounted his numerous attempts to get Trowa to open up to him, to make him feel like something more than a vessel to spill his seed and fears into. Even Heero hadn't known how to explain to Trowa that all he would have done was give a little more attention to Quatre, to treat him like his lover and friend instead of someone to pull close and make his inner demons go away like a teddy bear in a frightened child's hands. Quatre had never been a toy, but a human that needed someone to love him as much as he loved others, even if it had only been while they were alone. Talking never had been one of Heero's big points. That dispute had ended with Trowa walking away from him stiffly, shutting the pilot of 01 as well as the rest out of his life and friendship. The dream didn't go that way.
"I decided I'm taking him back, Heero. The war is over, and I'm taking back what was and is mine."
Hands were touching his face, pressing against his skin. Even in the grip of his nightmare, a hand flailed out to snare up the ever-present gun that sat always on his nightstand. "Omae o Korosu," slid past his lips in a dead voice as it rose and the safety was clicked off.
Quatre sat perfectly still, fear pushing his heart up into his throat. Heero awoke much like he did everything else... suddenly. One breath he could be in a deep sleep and the next, one found themselves staring into completely aware and lucid pits of blue darkness. Dryness made his throat feel like the desert that lay beyond their bedroom window. Keeping his voice in low calming tones much like those he used when talking to his horses that had been spooked, the smaller male spoke quietly. "Hee-chan. It's me, Quatre. You were having a nightmare. It's me."
The endless tunnel of night that was the gun held towards the Arabian jittered as it lowered, the fingers curled tightly about the grip trembling as the weapon was returned to its nightstand edge. Quarte's name was whispered as the other's arms enfolded him, the whipcord muscle beneath the skin still trembling as the man's hands did. Heero tucked his mate against his chest, resting his head atop the soft bed of wispy blonde hair, letting his fingertips wander up to curl within them as well. The thunder of his heart continued to fill his ears, recovering from the nightmare as Quatre soothed him like a child, soft brushings of the other's lips and fingertips echoing across his sweat streaked skin. The horror invoked by the nightmare may have faded, but the message behind it did not. Heero didn't question those instincts; they had kept him alive for too long. "It was Trowa again. He said he was coming for you."
Silence spun between them as Quatre absorbed the words, not questioning or trying to make light of it all to coax a smile from his mate. Even the dispassionate, clipped tone that Heero said them in impacted him on how serious he thought it was. Had another heard those words spoken, they might have dismissed it as the Japanese pilot simply being Heero Perfect Soldier Yuy again. If they had been outside their bedroom, Quatre might have thought the same. Not now. "What do you want to do?"
Curling Quatre to his chest, Heero remained in his thoughtful quietness for a time. For the moment, he just wanted to reassure himself that not all of it had been a dream. Quatre was here and in his arms as well as safe. They had all survived the war and come out intact for the most part, physically, but perhaps not mentally. Mentally, he didn't think that any of them would ever be right. Scars on skin healed. He could prove that. Scars of psyche did not, at least, not as easily. Sliding his eyes closed, he inhaled the scent of the skin beneath his, letting the scents of cinnamon and some other spice he couldn't remember flood across his senses. It was an exotic mixture that he could only identify with one person. "I want to go back to Preventer Headquarters tomorrow. I want us both to go back this time. Rashid can take care of everything here. Besides, if I know Duo and Wufei, they've probably loaded everything on my desk and taken a week off themselves."
Quatre's head rose slightly, seeming to be gazing at a cornre of their shared room in the Winner Estate. All he could see was the now harmless seeming gun on the nightstand. It didn't matter that there were forty or more Maguanacs and the latest (and supposedly best according to the seller) home security system between himself and any sort of danger. Heero believed that he could keep 'Master Quatre' safer than any of them. He had to stop Wufei from telling Heero about these things unless his mate had already read Sun Tzu. Something was wrong on L4, something that wasn't feeling right. He could let things go for a time and see old friends. His sister was as adept at running the company as he was, and nothing said he had to be here to do it. The thought that it would ease Heero's mind was the factor that decided it for him. "We can take the shuttle and leave tomorrow morning. If you can send a comm through and let them all know that we're coming...?"
"Ninmu ryokai," Heero murmured as they slid back down into the silken embrace of their sheets. Within an hour, the breathing of the smaller boy smoothed out to the pace of those lying in Morpheus' arms. The still awake soldier's hand stole out to once more grip the gun within it, gazing out over their bedroom as if the shadows held secrets from him.
----------------------------------------------
Elsewhere another was wrapped in dreams. Tossing, he had wrapped himself within his own sheets, tangling them about his long form as if they were a lover grasping. A long dead singer's voice provided a soundtrack of sorts as his night visions ran rampant.
Quatre was curled within a bed clad in shades of wine and gold, the two colours playing off of each other in a darkness that was lit only by scattered candles. As if sensing his approach, the golden lashes parted to frame sleepy eyes of a soft aquamarine. Gazing up at him with the innocence of a newly awakened cherub, one small fist rose to rub at his eyes and free them of sleep.
Come into these arms again
And lay your body down
There's a modest trembling heart
That's beating like a drum
It beats for you, it leaps for you
It knows not how it sounds
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs
Beneath his skin he could feel the soft embrace of Quatre's arms about him, the boy's head seeking shelter beneath his chin like a kitten. The scent of spices washed over him, relief coming in its wake. None of the terrible things that lonliness had done to him had ever happened. It had all been a lie. His angel was here.
Something paralyzed him as Heero stepped out of the shadows, a small dart lodged in his shoulder to tranquilize him. Snatching the Arabian from him with a feral snarl and bundling him against his chest, the cold blue eyes of the other male settled on his own. A smile curved Heero's lips that had to be what a rabbit saw just before the wolf devoured it. He couldn't do anything but stare in overwhelming disbelief, feeling as if his heart were being ripped from him.
Once I had the rarest rose
That ever came to bloom
Cruel winter chill the bones
And stole my flower too soon
Oh lonliness, oh hopelessness
To search the end of time
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine.
Lightening crisscrossed the skies as freezing water began to pelt him. Instead of the bedroom of luxury, he was in a barren wasteland. Jagged peaks broke from the earth to reach upwards like fingers towards a sky that didn't care, a sky that swam with shades of Prussian blue. Even the rain that fell on him seemed like a taunting slap.
Still falls the rain
(Still falls the rain)
Still falls the night
You're mine forever
Warmth spilled on him as Quatre appeared beside him, enveloped in a golden light. He truly did look like the angel that he had been compared to often. A slender hand extended towards him, a silent plea within those gemlike eyes for the other to take it and help him, to release him from his captor.
Let me the only one
To keep you from the cold
Now the floor of Heaven is laid
With stars of brightest gold
They shine for you, they shine for me
They burn for all to see.
Even as the heat moved over the dreamer's skin, dark arms appeared about Quatre, dimming his light, pulling him away once more. A pair of glowing eyes of stormy blue focused on him, promising him that never again would he find that sort of peace. Eternity alone was his curse.
Come into my arms again
And set this spirit free.
With those last words lingering in his ears, the dreamer snapped awake. His eyes narrowed to slits, lips peeling back from teeth in an unconscious echo of the one that Heero had displayed in his nightmare. Sliding out of bed, he stalked towards the Vidphone, pausing only to pick up the single picture on the desk. Captured beneath a shield of glass was a smiling Quatre with an equally goofing off Duo. It had been taken during one of their few breaks during the war, the tops of Sandrock and Deathscythe barely visible in the shadows. Setting it down upon the wooden surface with as much care as a priest would take with a holy relic, the boy's fingers danced over the numerical pad as a familiar face filled the screen and came from the speakers. "Lieutenant Noin, Preventer's Headquarters. How can I help you?"
Heero Yuy twisted in his nightmare, the coldly accusing voice of Trowa coming back to haunt him. In his dreams as well as then, he hadn't been able to find the words to explain to the pilot of 03 that Quatre had come to him, not the other way around. That he had been the one to wipe the tears from the Arabian's eyes as he had recounted his numerous attempts to get Trowa to open up to him, to make him feel like something more than a vessel to spill his seed and fears into. Even Heero hadn't known how to explain to Trowa that all he would have done was give a little more attention to Quatre, to treat him like his lover and friend instead of someone to pull close and make his inner demons go away like a teddy bear in a frightened child's hands. Quatre had never been a toy, but a human that needed someone to love him as much as he loved others, even if it had only been while they were alone. Talking never had been one of Heero's big points. That dispute had ended with Trowa walking away from him stiffly, shutting the pilot of 01 as well as the rest out of his life and friendship. The dream didn't go that way.
"I decided I'm taking him back, Heero. The war is over, and I'm taking back what was and is mine."
Hands were touching his face, pressing against his skin. Even in the grip of his nightmare, a hand flailed out to snare up the ever-present gun that sat always on his nightstand. "Omae o Korosu," slid past his lips in a dead voice as it rose and the safety was clicked off.
Quatre sat perfectly still, fear pushing his heart up into his throat. Heero awoke much like he did everything else... suddenly. One breath he could be in a deep sleep and the next, one found themselves staring into completely aware and lucid pits of blue darkness. Dryness made his throat feel like the desert that lay beyond their bedroom window. Keeping his voice in low calming tones much like those he used when talking to his horses that had been spooked, the smaller male spoke quietly. "Hee-chan. It's me, Quatre. You were having a nightmare. It's me."
The endless tunnel of night that was the gun held towards the Arabian jittered as it lowered, the fingers curled tightly about the grip trembling as the weapon was returned to its nightstand edge. Quarte's name was whispered as the other's arms enfolded him, the whipcord muscle beneath the skin still trembling as the man's hands did. Heero tucked his mate against his chest, resting his head atop the soft bed of wispy blonde hair, letting his fingertips wander up to curl within them as well. The thunder of his heart continued to fill his ears, recovering from the nightmare as Quatre soothed him like a child, soft brushings of the other's lips and fingertips echoing across his sweat streaked skin. The horror invoked by the nightmare may have faded, but the message behind it did not. Heero didn't question those instincts; they had kept him alive for too long. "It was Trowa again. He said he was coming for you."
Silence spun between them as Quatre absorbed the words, not questioning or trying to make light of it all to coax a smile from his mate. Even the dispassionate, clipped tone that Heero said them in impacted him on how serious he thought it was. Had another heard those words spoken, they might have dismissed it as the Japanese pilot simply being Heero Perfect Soldier Yuy again. If they had been outside their bedroom, Quatre might have thought the same. Not now. "What do you want to do?"
Curling Quatre to his chest, Heero remained in his thoughtful quietness for a time. For the moment, he just wanted to reassure himself that not all of it had been a dream. Quatre was here and in his arms as well as safe. They had all survived the war and come out intact for the most part, physically, but perhaps not mentally. Mentally, he didn't think that any of them would ever be right. Scars on skin healed. He could prove that. Scars of psyche did not, at least, not as easily. Sliding his eyes closed, he inhaled the scent of the skin beneath his, letting the scents of cinnamon and some other spice he couldn't remember flood across his senses. It was an exotic mixture that he could only identify with one person. "I want to go back to Preventer Headquarters tomorrow. I want us both to go back this time. Rashid can take care of everything here. Besides, if I know Duo and Wufei, they've probably loaded everything on my desk and taken a week off themselves."
Quatre's head rose slightly, seeming to be gazing at a cornre of their shared room in the Winner Estate. All he could see was the now harmless seeming gun on the nightstand. It didn't matter that there were forty or more Maguanacs and the latest (and supposedly best according to the seller) home security system between himself and any sort of danger. Heero believed that he could keep 'Master Quatre' safer than any of them. He had to stop Wufei from telling Heero about these things unless his mate had already read Sun Tzu. Something was wrong on L4, something that wasn't feeling right. He could let things go for a time and see old friends. His sister was as adept at running the company as he was, and nothing said he had to be here to do it. The thought that it would ease Heero's mind was the factor that decided it for him. "We can take the shuttle and leave tomorrow morning. If you can send a comm through and let them all know that we're coming...?"
"Ninmu ryokai," Heero murmured as they slid back down into the silken embrace of their sheets. Within an hour, the breathing of the smaller boy smoothed out to the pace of those lying in Morpheus' arms. The still awake soldier's hand stole out to once more grip the gun within it, gazing out over their bedroom as if the shadows held secrets from him.
----------------------------------------------
Elsewhere another was wrapped in dreams. Tossing, he had wrapped himself within his own sheets, tangling them about his long form as if they were a lover grasping. A long dead singer's voice provided a soundtrack of sorts as his night visions ran rampant.
Quatre was curled within a bed clad in shades of wine and gold, the two colours playing off of each other in a darkness that was lit only by scattered candles. As if sensing his approach, the golden lashes parted to frame sleepy eyes of a soft aquamarine. Gazing up at him with the innocence of a newly awakened cherub, one small fist rose to rub at his eyes and free them of sleep.
Come into these arms again
And lay your body down
There's a modest trembling heart
That's beating like a drum
It beats for you, it leaps for you
It knows not how it sounds
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs
Beneath his skin he could feel the soft embrace of Quatre's arms about him, the boy's head seeking shelter beneath his chin like a kitten. The scent of spices washed over him, relief coming in its wake. None of the terrible things that lonliness had done to him had ever happened. It had all been a lie. His angel was here.
Something paralyzed him as Heero stepped out of the shadows, a small dart lodged in his shoulder to tranquilize him. Snatching the Arabian from him with a feral snarl and bundling him against his chest, the cold blue eyes of the other male settled on his own. A smile curved Heero's lips that had to be what a rabbit saw just before the wolf devoured it. He couldn't do anything but stare in overwhelming disbelief, feeling as if his heart were being ripped from him.
Once I had the rarest rose
That ever came to bloom
Cruel winter chill the bones
And stole my flower too soon
Oh lonliness, oh hopelessness
To search the end of time
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine.
Lightening crisscrossed the skies as freezing water began to pelt him. Instead of the bedroom of luxury, he was in a barren wasteland. Jagged peaks broke from the earth to reach upwards like fingers towards a sky that didn't care, a sky that swam with shades of Prussian blue. Even the rain that fell on him seemed like a taunting slap.
Still falls the rain
(Still falls the rain)
Still falls the night
You're mine forever
Warmth spilled on him as Quatre appeared beside him, enveloped in a golden light. He truly did look like the angel that he had been compared to often. A slender hand extended towards him, a silent plea within those gemlike eyes for the other to take it and help him, to release him from his captor.
Let me the only one
To keep you from the cold
Now the floor of Heaven is laid
With stars of brightest gold
They shine for you, they shine for me
They burn for all to see.
Even as the heat moved over the dreamer's skin, dark arms appeared about Quatre, dimming his light, pulling him away once more. A pair of glowing eyes of stormy blue focused on him, promising him that never again would he find that sort of peace. Eternity alone was his curse.
Come into my arms again
And set this spirit free.
With those last words lingering in his ears, the dreamer snapped awake. His eyes narrowed to slits, lips peeling back from teeth in an unconscious echo of the one that Heero had displayed in his nightmare. Sliding out of bed, he stalked towards the Vidphone, pausing only to pick up the single picture on the desk. Captured beneath a shield of glass was a smiling Quatre with an equally goofing off Duo. It had been taken during one of their few breaks during the war, the tops of Sandrock and Deathscythe barely visible in the shadows. Setting it down upon the wooden surface with as much care as a priest would take with a holy relic, the boy's fingers danced over the numerical pad as a familiar face filled the screen and came from the speakers. "Lieutenant Noin, Preventer's Headquarters. How can I help you?"