Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing
I got the idea for this after reading "Quatre and the Bandits" sorry, I forget who the author was. Don't worry, though, my fic doesn't follow hers to the letter. I just borrowed a few of the major points, in another chapter or so, you won't be able to tell I ever read her story^^; And, as for the rating of this story, I'm probably not going to hold faithful to it, so, as the chapters progress, don't flame me.
Thank you
Quatre had been riveted to one of his numerous books for a good portion of the trip to his home province, he had a strange fascination with contemporary genres that ranged from political satires to romantic scandal. His sister, Iria had kept up animated chit chat with him for the beginning of the journey and then was eventually lulled to sleep by the hypnotic thump of horse hooves on the soft dirt road, leaving Quatre to his own devices. She snored lightly accenting the air with an almost nostalgic touch of a mother that her younger brother never knew. Almost no wildlife was to be heard, since they had had ample time to make their escape due to the heavy sounds of a horse-drawn carriage heralding the coming of man.
It was late afternoon by the time Quatre finally put down his book and had a look around his roomy accommodations. His limbs were a little sore from maintaining his erect reading posture for such an extended amount of time, so he slumped back and stared ahead of himself for a while. He focused and unfocused on the carved, ornate designs of the interior of the carriage. It was the picture of a jungle with hidden animals poking out of some inconspicuous fissure or shadow. Just staring at the forward wall could provide his idle mind with hours of entertainment. But, his gaze shifted and rested on the sleeping figure of his sister. Her strawberry blonde hair curled about her face in cottony wisps, her long dark lashes kissed her blushing cheeks, and her pinkish lips were set in a ludicrous frown that Quatre found positively endearing. She was leaned back into her little cushioned corner with all the ridiculous yards of fabric that made up her dress puffed about her and making her seem almost tiny. Her arms folded in front of her with her palms up as if in offering. And, that's one of the many things that Quatre had grown to associate with her. She was always giving. Always there, his kind, perfect sister.
Feeling a little drowsy, Quatre scooted over and lay his head down in her lap among the dusty rose peau de soie of his sister's dress. Automatically, Iria's arms wound about him in an unconscious protective gesture that she'd adopted over the years. It wasn't quite clear why or when she'd really started her little habit. But, Quatre welcomed it all the same. One of his arms held his book possessively to his chest while the other crooked around his sister's waist in a half embrace.
Staring at the shadows on the wall, he felt a surreal feeling of security, but then a mingling fear. Earlier that day, he'd had a talk with his sister. One of his least favorite topics of conversation had arisen somewhere between finding solutions to the illness scare and modern ethics.
"Father has arranged yet another celebration for you." Iria said quietly and added with a little more difficulty, "to commemorate your excellence in finishing your schooling in half the allotted time and being the top of your class."
"Nora told me in her last letter from home," Quatre smiled with difficulty as he squirmed a little uneasily in his seat.
"I know that you don't like his little match-making efforts, why won't you tell him?"
Quatre frowned, "It would be ungrateful of me. And, I truly want to see father happy with something.for once."
Exhibiting as much presence as possible, Iria straightened her posture and crossed her legs in the feminine grace that Quatre had so long admired, "He cannot have his happiness at your expense. Quatre, I know your heart. And, you're dying inside. I can see it so clearly."
Almost indignantly, Quatre quirked his lips in an attempt at a smile, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Sympathetically, Iria brushed her fingers through his bangs, "Why did he push you to finish so soon? I know he pressured you, he must have scared you. All those letters you keep in your satchel. Don't worry, I haven't read them," she said at Quatre's horrified look. "But, I can feel what he's told you. And, I don't like it one bit. Before I let go of the subject, will you promise me something?" At her brother's nod, she continued. "I want you to do what you feel is right. Follow your heart. . .your own heart. Alright?" Quatre nodded again. "Oh! Look at you. I'm sorry, but I had to get this out. I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't told you.told you exactly what I feel inside." And with that, Iria pulled her brother into a warm embrace that lasted for what seemed like an eternity.
In a fitful wakefulness, Quatre chewed his lip digesting the events from earlier. Sometimes he could swear that his sister was a psychic or a wiccan. She just always seemed to know everything, secrets were no more than myth in her presence. It was comforting but frightening at the same time. Some things, Quatre wanted to keep to himself.
Somewhere in the distance, the deep, resounding rumbling of thunder could be heard creeping out of the mountains. It seemed a little light outside for a storm, but Quatre was a little less than inclined to leave the safety of his sister's lap to investigate.
After a moment or so, it dawned upon Quatre that the thunder had ceased to stop. Carefully, he extracted himself from his sister's hold so as not to wake her lest the sounds were but a figment of his imagination, he ambled up to the gilded window and scanned the terrain. It was a barren land with a few small shrubs sprouting here and there. Nothing but the mountains far away added depth to the scenery seemingly encasing this little basin of flat land in a sloping ring. It took a while to spot, but eventually Quatre's azure eyes fixed on a pale swarm moving quickly across the sun bleached landscape. He swerved his head around to see a very anxious looking Rashid staring at him. They'd both seen the same thing, wasting no time, Rashid urged the horses faster jerking the carriage and eliciting a sleepy groan from Iria and a startled yelp from Quatre who was flung back into his older sibling.
Becoming more aware by the moment, Iria almost shrieked, "What's going on?!"
"Bandits, I think," Quatre hissed overcoming the initial pain of landing and struggling to get up out of the many folds of his sister's dress.
"I thought Zechs was supposed to have disposed of all of them," Iria frowned with disapproval masking her fear as best as she could.
"He was," Quatre affirmed. "But, this is a vast region and there's bound to be a few stragglers."
Scooting off her all too comfortable perch, Iria made her way to the window and peered out. "Um. . .Quatre. . .that is not 'a few.' That is what you'd call an army."
Miserably, her brother nodded his agreement. "Look, Iria.they will catch up with us. No matter how experienced Rashid is, the team of horses we have is not enough to run so far so fast with such a heavy load to bear. So, when the bandits do overtake this vessel. I want you and Rashid to take two mounts and ride off as fast and as hard as you can." With a deep shuddering breath he looked up at his sister and her defiant glare. For a moment, he considered his next words before blurting them out with as much acid and authority as he could muster, "You will leave. Or I will have Rashid drag you. No matter how much he feels bound to me, I know that he will not disobey my orders."
Taken aback by her brother's first display of authority, Iria stumbled backward and sat down waiting for the army to come. Reproachfully, Quatre sat and rested his head on her knees knowing very well that he had just sealed his fate in one fleeting moment.
It did not take long for the riders to catch up. After the first slew of arrows, Rashid knew when to give up and brought the carriage to a slow, steady stop. Quatre was about to leave the artificial safety of the small compartment he and his sister occupied when she pushed him aside and jumped out ahead of him. She closed the door after her and fastened the dead bolt from the outside. Feeling his little assurance of his sister's safety slip, Quatre made to get out through the small window. He contorted himself and tried his damndest to get out but to no avail, he fell in a heap to the ground trying to gather his wits about him. He heard the hoof beats envelope everything. And, then, he heard his sister's strong voice rise above everything.
"We have nothing of worth that we may give you. But, if you should need to take something, take me. Leave everything else be.I beg of you."
Quatre was snapped to attention, too filled with shock and betrayal to speak.
"What could you possibly be worth, lady? Your clothes fetch a better price than your face," a deep strange voice countered.
"My dress. . .you may have it."
Whatever was holding Quatre back was broken right then and there and he spoke in volumes he could have never conceived before in his life, "Rashid! Take Iria and go!" The thought of his sister baring all in front of the uncouth masses made his blood boil. He shot out so many commands in his native tongue to Rashid, to Iria, to the horses, that there was chaos outside. The horses reared up and moved in confusion causing the carriage to tip over onto its side and the harnesses to break. Quatre was jostled around and landed in a huddled mass on what was the left wall of the carriage and the only window to the outside. All he could do was hear the profuse beating of hooves and occasional shouts.
"They're getting away!"
"After them!"
Quatre felt some warm pain in various parts of his body. It was a burning like sand rubbing his skin raw, and he loathed moving. After a while, the sound seemed to die down, and Quatre began to have mixed feelings. His lack of knowledge of what was happening outside was driving him mad. Then, he heard the latch being drawn. The sound was almost too small to hear, but it encompassed Quatre's entire world. What was waiting for him behind that door would decide his future, or lack there of.
He barely saw the silhouette of the youth before a rough, sun-tanned hand stole into the sanctity of the roomy compartment and yanked Quatre out making him lose his defensive, ball like position. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he instinctively tried to regain his fetal like position.
"Suppose she's some sort of a princess?" a small almost feminine voice piped up.
Quatre, whom had kept his eyes squeezed shut for his first moments opened them in surprise as he was dropped roughly on the ground amid the biggest group of armed people he'd ever seen since the magnuacs. Everyone was lightly dressed and hard faced. They were no strangers to violence and Quatre shuddered at the thought. Then words began to prick his ears.
"Look at her eyes. They're as luminous as the moon."
"I know some men that would kill for a woman with such a fine face."
"Look at what she's wearing, she must be important."
"Those are the fullest lips I've ever seen."
"How much do you think we'd get for her on market?"
A few moments passed before the first real and pure emotion set in, a nerve wracking, mind blowing fear. He scrambled to his feet unsteadily still in a daze from being in the carriage for so long. He stumbled forward drunkenly looking at neither face nor mount. His mind had long since shut down, and luckily he was spared from further confusion by a blunt blow to his head by what felt to be the hilt of a sword. His last thought was "The sun is setting." before everything went pitch. ++
Night had long fallen by the time Quatre awoke. For a moment he was panicked to discover that he did not know where he was. The trees were unfamiliar and stunted, the ground was hard and smooth still retaining the warmth of the last rays of the sun within it's earthen furnace, and anything else out of Quatre's immediate field of vision was blurred into one in the same color of grey. Then, the events of the afternoon washed over him. Lulled into a false sense of security that he wasn't dead yet, and that it was stupid of him to expect to know where he was, he closed his eyes again. All of it, every horrifying moment of it, he wanted it all to be a dream. He wanted to wake up next to his sister with the nightmare to tell, or to forget. If only life were so accommodating.
"Why did you decide to take her back here?" a voice drifted lazily to his consciousness. It was even and filled with authority.
"I felt so inclined," another voice countered.
"Take her back to where you found her."
"You won't even take a look-see?" a different voice pleaded. "But, of course, if you don't want her, I know plenty of people that would."
"You talk about her as if she were a hunk of meat, Maxwell." another voice joined the foray.
"Hey, did you get a good look at her?. . .No? See? Right there! You don't know what you're talking about."
The voices faded, becoming less and less important to Quatre as he struggled to get his bearings straight. He looked about himself finally making shapes out of the murky darkness. He saw the backs of hundreds of huddled people all centered on their respective focal point, firelight.
"Hey, she's awake," a small voice cried out. It seemed that the land had turned, all at once, there were hundreds of faces fixed on Quatre. Feeling the heat rise to his face, he tried to roll over but was stopped by a force stronger than gravity. His head felt like a quiver and arrow had just rung out through it. He gritted his teeth and doubled over waiting for it all to stop.
He could sense them all coming towards him like an oppressive cloud. Their gritty hands stretched out, and their spindly bodies creeping. Then, they stopped and drew back. Quatre cracked one eye open in disbelief at the rows and rows of people all sitting with their legs folded under them in respectful attention for whoever or whatever was behind him. Slowly, he turned his head a little and looked as far back as possible and waited to see who was in charge.
The low, even voice from earlier addressed him, "What is your name?"
Several heartbeats passed before a reply could be made, "Quatre."
"Just 'Quatre?'" the other asked with barely the slightest hint of amusement.
"Just Quatre." the youth splayed out on the ground affirmed.
"You don't look like a 'just Quatre,' to me," the other voice said in a colder, lifeless tone. Then a little more well tempered, he added, "But you might have been rendered so by the damage you've sustained on you head."
Muted chuckles and whispered words fringed the silence that passed between the abducted and the captor.
"Who are you?" Quatre almost whispered.
"If you do not already know, you need not be told," came the reply sending small tremors up Quatre's spine. He lowered his head back to the ground feeling his mental strain catching up with him.
"Duo, bring her to the main tent after she has been checked for ills. Heero, come with me." There was quiet footsteps and then nothing. A pair of heavier, careless footfalls came his way, and he felt a strong pair of arms fork under him and lift him up.
"Wow. . .Wufei, check this out! She weighs but more than a feather!" A pair of bright blue eyes made direct contact with a wide pair of violets. "Her eyes really do light up! Look Wufei! Look!"
Before anything could really register, Quatre was exchanged from one pair of solid arms to another more pleasantly careful pair. He felt like a baby being cradled, and hung slack for a lack of anything better to do. The person that had held him before resembled one of his sisters, though he couldn't remember which one. The heart shaped face, the cat-like smirk, and upturned eyes like a Cheshire cat. And long, rope like hair pulled back behind his head, a strange sight to Quatre's unschooled eyes.
"Are you alright, miss?" Wufei asked while carefully readjusting his hold on Quatre. Poised and gentle like a crane, he used a raised knee to balance his small charge and his free hand to gently draw Quatre's head to his chest so that it wouldn't just hang from the crook of his arm. He was so careful.
"Why are you being so kind to me?" Quatre asked a little displeased at the raspy quality of his voice.
"It's natural," Wufei said simply. "Did you expect anything less?"
++
"You have nice hair," Wufei stated tonelessly. He was presently smoothing a thick, citrus smelling paste into Quatre's blood reddened mass of blond curls.
"Th-thank you," Quatre stuttered trying his best to stay awake under the intoxicating pressure of someone's fingers running through his hair.
"She looks like a cat in a girl's body, Wu!" Duo grinned. "I kind of hope that Trowa chooses to keep her. Ever seen a girl like her before? Or a boy, for that matter. . .Hey, girl, where are you from?"
Before Quatre could formulate a response, Wufei cut in, "She has a name, Maxwell."
To that, Duo rolled his eyes and buried his head in the fold of his arms, "It ain't gonna be her name anymore if she gets hitched to Trowa."
"What do you think he'd name her?" Wufei snapped. "He's as much thought in other people as he has for himself."
Duo leaned his chest on the table he'd been seated at and scooted the upper half of his body as close to Wufei as possible. "Don't say that about Trowa. He's really a nice person deep down. . .alright, really deep down. I'd give him twenty-four hours to warm up to Quatre before poke poke," he grinned touching the index finger of his right hand to the palm of his left suggestively.
Wufei raised a brow, "My only comfort in all this is that you're already spoken for."
"I'm sure Heero wouldn't mind a third party," Duo huffed with mock frustration.
Nervously, Quatre worried the hem of his shirt trying to ignore what was being said. "I...I don't really see why you think I'm a girl."
The fingers massaging his scalp paused only a moment before continuing again while Duo gawked incredulously. Then he climbed over the table and reached out purposely for between Quatre's legs when his hand was slapped away with a resounding smack. It took a moment to figure out that Wufei had actually moved, though Quatre had felt no difference in the moment leading up to and after the moment. Duo rubbed his reddened hand irately and muttered, "Death to that accursed hand of yours, Wufei."
"You had no business poking yours where it doesn't belong. You need but ask, Maxwell. You've enough wind to expel from that blasted mouth of yours."
Duo made a sour face, then did as he was bid, "So, Kat, you mean to tell us that you are a guy?"
Quatre nodded slowly, cautiously feeling as if he'd signed his own death warrant. Duo gave him a cold, hard stare before melting into a large grin.
"All the more fun," he said absolutely beaming. "If Trowa doesn't want Kat, I'll definitely take him."
Wufei fought the urge to yank Duo's braid for his callousness but instead, he opted to finish washing Quatre's hair. "Duo, I'm sure Quatre's ability to understand spoken language isn't a bad as you seem to assume."
"What do you mean?"
".Just shut up, Maxwell," Wufei hissed sliding a towel under Quatre's head and setting the bowl he'd been using off to the side.
"Well, Wuffie, someone has to claim him. It's something that Kat here is going to have to understand. He's not his own property until he's claimed, even then. . .I mean, who was it that claimed you Wufei?"
"Aurel, who was in his time long, long ago claimed by Trichus. I know all the stories. I just have a small inhibition about speaking about someone as if they were property when they're in the general vicinity and within earshot."
"I want to go home," Quatre whispered for the first time in his life.
Duo gave him a strange look, ". . .Sorry to disappoint you, but, I seriously doubt that's gonna happen. People here would be nuts to let you go."
Quatre blushed deeply and fought the frown that threatened his face, "Iria, I think she's worried. And, if I don't return home, I think that you all will have a big problem. If you let me go, I'll make sure nothing happens to you all."
"You know, at one time we all said the exact thing you just did, and we're all still here. I think you'll like it here, honestly," Duo tried a comforting smile.
At that, Quatre covered his face with his hands and exhaled deeply, his entire body tensed and tears made their way down his cheeks. Wufei calmly set down the teethed instrument he'd been using to inspect Quatre's wounds and wrapped the boy up in his arms. He set him in his lap and hugged him to his chest.
"Aish." Duo sighed and rubbed his temples. "Sorry, Kat, I just don't lie. Truth hurts, I know."
"Just don't talk," Wufei suggested dryly.
A considerable amount of time passed before Quatre had been reduced to sporadic tears in the aftershock of his initial breakdown. Duo had already left the tent in pursuit of bigger and better things leaving Wufei behind to take care of everything. The pale youth sat hunched over on a cot draped with a heavy woven blanket. It had a large sun in its center with black lacy designs all over. His brow raised as he wondered where the bandits had stolen it.
"That was Aurel's," Wufei said upon his return, balanced carefully on the tips of his fingers was a tray of fruits and tea. "He was from the north where they worship Manda."
Quatre nodded a little ashamed at himself that he was feeling a bond between himself and this Wufei. "How can you talk so candidly. . .about all this. . .Weren't you abducted too?"
Wufei allowed himself a wistful little grin as he set the tray down on top of a stack of books serving as a sort of table. "I was the son of a noble from the east. We were travelling to Kahmir to seal a pact between our clan and the kingdom there. In about the same spot your carriage was attacked, we were besieged. My father and his escorts were killed. A few years ago, I went back to my home province after Aurel died, and my mother was married again and had produced another son. So, I returned here to 'save face.' When the person that claims you dies, you are free to do as you please. It's ironic that after all my time in this place plotting the time I would leave that I returned without a second thought. I don't think about leaving anymore. This life grows on you like a sickness."
"You don't miss your family?" Quatre asked quietly.
Wufei rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head, "No, not really. My love for them is honor bound. It pains me when they ache, but not enough to return. I simply can not live their life anymore. . .but you miss your family?"
"I. . .don't know," Quatre mumbled lamely, his head suddenly feeling very heavy. "I'm afraid."
"That's understandable. It's alright to be afraid. Just don't let it rule you," Wufei said pouring some tea and placing it carefully in Quatre's unsteady hands. "Fear can be a liability."
"What will happen to me if that man, Trowa doesn't want me?" Quatre asked wincing at the words he had to use.
"If he doesn't want you, it's a free for all, basically." Wufei replied as if from a far away place. "It happens a lot."
"Would you claim me?" the blond asked uneasily, shifting in his seat trying to hide the blush that was creeping into his face.
The silence about killed him, then Wufei spoke, "I believe that I would. Do you want me to?"
"You're nicer than. . .than most of them."
Uneasy at the compliment, Wufei got up and kneeled next to Quatre on the cot and began brushing through his hair with a fine toothed comb. "Your head doesn't look too bad. Does it hurt at all?"
"It's alright," came the small reply. He could tell that his little bond charge was lying through his teeth, but he wouldn't contradict him.
"I'm going to get you some clothes to change into. It looks like Heero dragged you from the back of his horse all the way back to camp."
Quatre smiled a little at the wry humor.
++
Not too long later, Quatre was sitting in the center of a spacious tent dressed in Wufei's outgrown clothing. It was definitely a different cultural style from what Quatre had been accustomed to seeing. In his boarding school, they'd been forced to wear stiff collared uniforms. A white blouse and over it a black vest and over that a black overcoat. On the overcoat were silver cufflinks emblazoned with the school emblem, an intricately carved "W" enshrined in ivy vines. Under the starched white collar, every student wore the same black tie with golden ivy designs stamped all over it and a silver pin. Every shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of plain black pants completely devoid of pockets. And each student wore the same black socks with the same black, polished shoes. There was nothing to distinguish one person from the other apart from their face and their grades.
Back at his home province, people were beginning to lose their own flavor of dress. The rich families opted to wear clothing similar to what was seen in the faraway boarding school. Other families stuck to their old dress. That mostly consisted of loose fitting pants tied with a sash and long, heavy overcoats over a couple layers of light clothing. Most women wore hoods and dark eye make-up to shadow their faces. And they dyed their hands red, brown and black with earthy designs from the supreme book. All in all, the style of dress of Quatre's people was similar to Wufei's but definitely different.
Wufei's clothing was heavy silk bedecked with colorful designs of dragons and peacocks amid flowers and tree branches. There were many layers of such coats and shirts making almost hard to move. Quatre felt like a doll. He liked the look of what he was wearing, but actually wearing it was a different thing completely. It was every color imaginable all tastefully on one sheet of cloth. . .that weighed a ton. Quatre was glad to sit while he waited for those that were to decide his fate to make their appearances. Wufei stood next to him with his erect, soldier like posture. What he wore was considerably less grand than what Quatre was drowning in. It was a pair of pristine white pants and an overcoat that reached his ankles with a slit starting from his hips allowing for a longer range of motion. When asked about why his clothing was so simple, he answered amusedly, "I can't sew that well."
Quatre felt a little filthy in the clothes he was in. His current guardian had refused to allow him time to bathe, and nor did he really help with getting Quatre clothed. It was as if he was embarrassed by flesh.
The eastern youth stood patiently, his arched brows quirked and his mouth set in a thin grim line. He looked like he was waiting to be hit. Just as Quatre was about to say something, he heard the rustle of the tent flaps and watched three shadowed figures enter. One, he recognized as Duo, the other two weren't so familiar. They all sat in pre-arranged positions. The tallest of them sat on the center mat. One of his eyes was covered by a curtain of shiny light brown hair, his visible eye was a deep forest green, but lacked the luster of a normal person's eye. He wasn't focusing on Quatre, he hadn't, in fact, turned his attention away from whom Quatre presumed was his second in command. The other youth was shorter by a few inches with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He too had yet to notice that there were other people about. He sat to the left of the taller person. Duo flopped down carelessly to the right of the tall youth and played idly with the end of his braid.
Wufei cleared his throat politely and waited for the three people at the far end of the room to take notice. Duo's head snapped to attention while it took another minute or so for the others to turn. One green eye widened a little before returning to its natural dead appearance.
"Would you pass up claiming something like that?" Duo asked loudly cocking his head to one side.
"I've not seen a boy like that before," the blue eyed youth stated blandly. He seemed uninterested and like he'd have loved to be somewhere else. Quatre shared his sentiments.
"Where are you from, little one?" Trowa asked, his voice more void of life than his appearance. He hadn't intended to add on the little nickname to his query but decided not to make anything of it.
"Kahmir." Quatre answered guiltily.
"Nobility?"
". . .yes."
"Rank."
Quatre's mouth moved but no words came out. He had no real desire to give that little bit of information away. He bit his lip nervously while Wufei fixed him with a wary look.
"Just tell us, Kat," Duo coaxed. "It isn't going to kill you."
Quatre squeezed his eyes shut under the scrutiny he was being subjected to. No matter how hard he tried, the only sound that managed to escape his lips was a weak "mm." Fighting the constricting and contorting in his chest, he forced out a weak lie, "I am merchant rank. . .highest before royalty."
"Would I profit more by holding you ransom or keeping you here?"
". . .ransom."
"He stays, then," Trowa said idly. "He will reside within my living quarters for the time being."
Frightened, Quatre looked up at Wufei feeling the ground crumble beneath him. Surely he wouldn't allow him to be taken by this man. But, then, Wufei bowed his head, spun on his heel and left. Somehow, it was apparent that he had long ago gone on auto-pilot and would have never left otherwise. His antagonistic feelings towards Trowa in that one moment were bare and felt through Quatre.
"You've made a fine choice," Heero said as if he'd been rehearsing it his entire life. "Do you desire privacy?"
Seeing the extreme need the others felt to leave, Trowa nodded and watched them go giving himself something to concentrate on other than letting his eyes wander back to his new "property" if only for a few more seconds.
When he turned back, the blond youth was visibly drawn up into himself. He sat delicately on his legs with his hands folded neatly in his lap. His eyes were focused on the floor, and he stared as if he were seeing through it. Past the thin woven matting, through the dirt and rocks, and out the other side. He sat pensive as only a person in his position could. Vague remembrance of his similar predicament years upon years before washed over Trowa, though he shrugged it off preferring not to be bothered by it at the moment.
"Are you tired?" he asked. Struck not too long after by wide blue eyes, he continued, "Tomorrow morning, you will go see Duo to get your duties straightened out. I know that sleep is the last thing on your mind right now." his tone lowered to one of a deadlier, more commanding presence, "but I insist that you try."
It was startling how easily his tone went from vacant to poisonous and a dangerous aura seemed to just ooze from his being.
"Where do I sleep?" Quatre asked biting back the bile in his throat.
Trowa rose lifting his chin inquisitively, "Follow me." He waited for Quatre to make it to his feet before he stole out of the tent with all the flair of a confident leader, his cloak flowing behind him like black fire. To the blond boy's horror, his new "owner" all but disappeared into the shadows, his only distinguishing characteristic being the silver glinting of the incubus shaped hilt of his sword. Winking. . .winking in the darkness like a long forgotten nightmare.
++
Trowa's living quarters consisted of a rather large tent with a few different rooms separated by sheets. Most of the room in the tent was clearly not used at all. The miniscule amount of furnishings he chose to own had all been pooled about the center of the middle compartment. A mat was draped over a raised wooden platform. It looked like a stunted bed. The sheets and covers were all black and red damask, some with golden lining. Wasting no time in reminding Quatre of his current station, Trowa unrolled a sitting mat and laid it out a few feet away from his bed indicating that that was where he expected him to sleep. It looked comfortable enough, though the situation was a little less inviting. Quatre didn't revel in being watched. He lay down stiffly on the soft fabric while Trowa shrugged out of his over clothes. Somehow, it didn't seem right like he was mad about something but almost nothing indicated anything of the sort. Vague memories of visiting those whom were plagued by brilliance played out in Quatre's mind. They had moved in much the same manner like they had something important to do and were furious that it hadn't been done already.
When he was through stripping himself down to a long black shirt and form fitting pants, he turned to Quatre, "You don't look comfortable." Rewarded with the little bundle of clothing writing uneasily on the matted floor and a pair of mortified eyes chancing a glance at him, he pressed on, "We're both of the same sex, or so I've been told. You shouldn't be so apprehensive about disrobing."
The blond shook his head "no" and turned over trying to appear comfortable.
"You're stubborn," Trowa said with an acid loathing as he stalked forward and turned Quatre over. He sat carefully on his stomach and began pulling the silk fasteners out of their loops, peeling off layer and layers of clothing.
Quatre's mouth hung open at the sheer presumptuous nature of his "master," and his entire body was tense as a rod even when he was coaxed into sitting so that another robe may be discarded into the careless pile that was forming off to the left of his head. When Trowa was satisfied, he backed off and sat on his own futon without making so much as a sound. Quatre was down to the under layer of clothing, a thin blue hook and loop shirt, and loose white pants. He spent a few moments looking over his clothing, sitting on his legs with the straight posture that had long been cultured in him from childhood.
"Fold the clothes," was the last thing Trowa said to Quatre all night.
++
He woke up with a start looking about frantically with his heart beating erratically in his chest. As far as the eye could see was all desert, arid, pale, flat, sun beaten desert. The whistle of the wind in the sand dunes was all that greeted him. They were all gone, every last one of them. No tracks marked their passage swallowed up in the nighttime winds like an ill- humored dream. Sweat pricked the back of his neck and began to track down his face. Nothing for miles in all directions. The land looked without an end.
Out of nowhere a hand touched his shoulder. He turned instantly to come face to face with the most hardened, frightening face he'd ever seen in his life. Already past his fear limit, he struck out with all the force he could muster.
++
Quatre flew back before he could even register what had happened. Automatically, his hands went to his face even as he hit the ground after knocking over a small table and a chair. The hiss of his sharp intake of breath and tear choked cough filled the tent.
Trowa's eyes flew open feeling all the adrenaline ebb away quickly being replaced by a curious helplessness. He sat up and turned his head towards the muffled sobs coming from the floor. Quatre was huddled on the ground with his hands cupped over his face, a few pieces of furniture turned over near him and it took a minute for Trowa to piece it all together. He could still feel Quatre's soft skin under his knuckles, and it made his stomach turn. He called out to the boy and eased himself off his bed. Experimentally, he placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder and was immediately rebuffed by an agonized cry. He drew his hand away as if he'd been burned. Dazedly, he looked around and noticed that there had been an attempt to straighten his room, and all the clothing he'd stripped off the night before was in a neat pile off to the side of everything.
Unconsciously, a name fell from his lips, ".Wufei."
tbc
I got the idea for this after reading "Quatre and the Bandits" sorry, I forget who the author was. Don't worry, though, my fic doesn't follow hers to the letter. I just borrowed a few of the major points, in another chapter or so, you won't be able to tell I ever read her story^^; And, as for the rating of this story, I'm probably not going to hold faithful to it, so, as the chapters progress, don't flame me.
Thank you
Quatre had been riveted to one of his numerous books for a good portion of the trip to his home province, he had a strange fascination with contemporary genres that ranged from political satires to romantic scandal. His sister, Iria had kept up animated chit chat with him for the beginning of the journey and then was eventually lulled to sleep by the hypnotic thump of horse hooves on the soft dirt road, leaving Quatre to his own devices. She snored lightly accenting the air with an almost nostalgic touch of a mother that her younger brother never knew. Almost no wildlife was to be heard, since they had had ample time to make their escape due to the heavy sounds of a horse-drawn carriage heralding the coming of man.
It was late afternoon by the time Quatre finally put down his book and had a look around his roomy accommodations. His limbs were a little sore from maintaining his erect reading posture for such an extended amount of time, so he slumped back and stared ahead of himself for a while. He focused and unfocused on the carved, ornate designs of the interior of the carriage. It was the picture of a jungle with hidden animals poking out of some inconspicuous fissure or shadow. Just staring at the forward wall could provide his idle mind with hours of entertainment. But, his gaze shifted and rested on the sleeping figure of his sister. Her strawberry blonde hair curled about her face in cottony wisps, her long dark lashes kissed her blushing cheeks, and her pinkish lips were set in a ludicrous frown that Quatre found positively endearing. She was leaned back into her little cushioned corner with all the ridiculous yards of fabric that made up her dress puffed about her and making her seem almost tiny. Her arms folded in front of her with her palms up as if in offering. And, that's one of the many things that Quatre had grown to associate with her. She was always giving. Always there, his kind, perfect sister.
Feeling a little drowsy, Quatre scooted over and lay his head down in her lap among the dusty rose peau de soie of his sister's dress. Automatically, Iria's arms wound about him in an unconscious protective gesture that she'd adopted over the years. It wasn't quite clear why or when she'd really started her little habit. But, Quatre welcomed it all the same. One of his arms held his book possessively to his chest while the other crooked around his sister's waist in a half embrace.
Staring at the shadows on the wall, he felt a surreal feeling of security, but then a mingling fear. Earlier that day, he'd had a talk with his sister. One of his least favorite topics of conversation had arisen somewhere between finding solutions to the illness scare and modern ethics.
"Father has arranged yet another celebration for you." Iria said quietly and added with a little more difficulty, "to commemorate your excellence in finishing your schooling in half the allotted time and being the top of your class."
"Nora told me in her last letter from home," Quatre smiled with difficulty as he squirmed a little uneasily in his seat.
"I know that you don't like his little match-making efforts, why won't you tell him?"
Quatre frowned, "It would be ungrateful of me. And, I truly want to see father happy with something.for once."
Exhibiting as much presence as possible, Iria straightened her posture and crossed her legs in the feminine grace that Quatre had so long admired, "He cannot have his happiness at your expense. Quatre, I know your heart. And, you're dying inside. I can see it so clearly."
Almost indignantly, Quatre quirked his lips in an attempt at a smile, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Sympathetically, Iria brushed her fingers through his bangs, "Why did he push you to finish so soon? I know he pressured you, he must have scared you. All those letters you keep in your satchel. Don't worry, I haven't read them," she said at Quatre's horrified look. "But, I can feel what he's told you. And, I don't like it one bit. Before I let go of the subject, will you promise me something?" At her brother's nod, she continued. "I want you to do what you feel is right. Follow your heart. . .your own heart. Alright?" Quatre nodded again. "Oh! Look at you. I'm sorry, but I had to get this out. I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't told you.told you exactly what I feel inside." And with that, Iria pulled her brother into a warm embrace that lasted for what seemed like an eternity.
In a fitful wakefulness, Quatre chewed his lip digesting the events from earlier. Sometimes he could swear that his sister was a psychic or a wiccan. She just always seemed to know everything, secrets were no more than myth in her presence. It was comforting but frightening at the same time. Some things, Quatre wanted to keep to himself.
Somewhere in the distance, the deep, resounding rumbling of thunder could be heard creeping out of the mountains. It seemed a little light outside for a storm, but Quatre was a little less than inclined to leave the safety of his sister's lap to investigate.
After a moment or so, it dawned upon Quatre that the thunder had ceased to stop. Carefully, he extracted himself from his sister's hold so as not to wake her lest the sounds were but a figment of his imagination, he ambled up to the gilded window and scanned the terrain. It was a barren land with a few small shrubs sprouting here and there. Nothing but the mountains far away added depth to the scenery seemingly encasing this little basin of flat land in a sloping ring. It took a while to spot, but eventually Quatre's azure eyes fixed on a pale swarm moving quickly across the sun bleached landscape. He swerved his head around to see a very anxious looking Rashid staring at him. They'd both seen the same thing, wasting no time, Rashid urged the horses faster jerking the carriage and eliciting a sleepy groan from Iria and a startled yelp from Quatre who was flung back into his older sibling.
Becoming more aware by the moment, Iria almost shrieked, "What's going on?!"
"Bandits, I think," Quatre hissed overcoming the initial pain of landing and struggling to get up out of the many folds of his sister's dress.
"I thought Zechs was supposed to have disposed of all of them," Iria frowned with disapproval masking her fear as best as she could.
"He was," Quatre affirmed. "But, this is a vast region and there's bound to be a few stragglers."
Scooting off her all too comfortable perch, Iria made her way to the window and peered out. "Um. . .Quatre. . .that is not 'a few.' That is what you'd call an army."
Miserably, her brother nodded his agreement. "Look, Iria.they will catch up with us. No matter how experienced Rashid is, the team of horses we have is not enough to run so far so fast with such a heavy load to bear. So, when the bandits do overtake this vessel. I want you and Rashid to take two mounts and ride off as fast and as hard as you can." With a deep shuddering breath he looked up at his sister and her defiant glare. For a moment, he considered his next words before blurting them out with as much acid and authority as he could muster, "You will leave. Or I will have Rashid drag you. No matter how much he feels bound to me, I know that he will not disobey my orders."
Taken aback by her brother's first display of authority, Iria stumbled backward and sat down waiting for the army to come. Reproachfully, Quatre sat and rested his head on her knees knowing very well that he had just sealed his fate in one fleeting moment.
It did not take long for the riders to catch up. After the first slew of arrows, Rashid knew when to give up and brought the carriage to a slow, steady stop. Quatre was about to leave the artificial safety of the small compartment he and his sister occupied when she pushed him aside and jumped out ahead of him. She closed the door after her and fastened the dead bolt from the outside. Feeling his little assurance of his sister's safety slip, Quatre made to get out through the small window. He contorted himself and tried his damndest to get out but to no avail, he fell in a heap to the ground trying to gather his wits about him. He heard the hoof beats envelope everything. And, then, he heard his sister's strong voice rise above everything.
"We have nothing of worth that we may give you. But, if you should need to take something, take me. Leave everything else be.I beg of you."
Quatre was snapped to attention, too filled with shock and betrayal to speak.
"What could you possibly be worth, lady? Your clothes fetch a better price than your face," a deep strange voice countered.
"My dress. . .you may have it."
Whatever was holding Quatre back was broken right then and there and he spoke in volumes he could have never conceived before in his life, "Rashid! Take Iria and go!" The thought of his sister baring all in front of the uncouth masses made his blood boil. He shot out so many commands in his native tongue to Rashid, to Iria, to the horses, that there was chaos outside. The horses reared up and moved in confusion causing the carriage to tip over onto its side and the harnesses to break. Quatre was jostled around and landed in a huddled mass on what was the left wall of the carriage and the only window to the outside. All he could do was hear the profuse beating of hooves and occasional shouts.
"They're getting away!"
"After them!"
Quatre felt some warm pain in various parts of his body. It was a burning like sand rubbing his skin raw, and he loathed moving. After a while, the sound seemed to die down, and Quatre began to have mixed feelings. His lack of knowledge of what was happening outside was driving him mad. Then, he heard the latch being drawn. The sound was almost too small to hear, but it encompassed Quatre's entire world. What was waiting for him behind that door would decide his future, or lack there of.
He barely saw the silhouette of the youth before a rough, sun-tanned hand stole into the sanctity of the roomy compartment and yanked Quatre out making him lose his defensive, ball like position. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he instinctively tried to regain his fetal like position.
"Suppose she's some sort of a princess?" a small almost feminine voice piped up.
Quatre, whom had kept his eyes squeezed shut for his first moments opened them in surprise as he was dropped roughly on the ground amid the biggest group of armed people he'd ever seen since the magnuacs. Everyone was lightly dressed and hard faced. They were no strangers to violence and Quatre shuddered at the thought. Then words began to prick his ears.
"Look at her eyes. They're as luminous as the moon."
"I know some men that would kill for a woman with such a fine face."
"Look at what she's wearing, she must be important."
"Those are the fullest lips I've ever seen."
"How much do you think we'd get for her on market?"
A few moments passed before the first real and pure emotion set in, a nerve wracking, mind blowing fear. He scrambled to his feet unsteadily still in a daze from being in the carriage for so long. He stumbled forward drunkenly looking at neither face nor mount. His mind had long since shut down, and luckily he was spared from further confusion by a blunt blow to his head by what felt to be the hilt of a sword. His last thought was "The sun is setting." before everything went pitch. ++
Night had long fallen by the time Quatre awoke. For a moment he was panicked to discover that he did not know where he was. The trees were unfamiliar and stunted, the ground was hard and smooth still retaining the warmth of the last rays of the sun within it's earthen furnace, and anything else out of Quatre's immediate field of vision was blurred into one in the same color of grey. Then, the events of the afternoon washed over him. Lulled into a false sense of security that he wasn't dead yet, and that it was stupid of him to expect to know where he was, he closed his eyes again. All of it, every horrifying moment of it, he wanted it all to be a dream. He wanted to wake up next to his sister with the nightmare to tell, or to forget. If only life were so accommodating.
"Why did you decide to take her back here?" a voice drifted lazily to his consciousness. It was even and filled with authority.
"I felt so inclined," another voice countered.
"Take her back to where you found her."
"You won't even take a look-see?" a different voice pleaded. "But, of course, if you don't want her, I know plenty of people that would."
"You talk about her as if she were a hunk of meat, Maxwell." another voice joined the foray.
"Hey, did you get a good look at her?. . .No? See? Right there! You don't know what you're talking about."
The voices faded, becoming less and less important to Quatre as he struggled to get his bearings straight. He looked about himself finally making shapes out of the murky darkness. He saw the backs of hundreds of huddled people all centered on their respective focal point, firelight.
"Hey, she's awake," a small voice cried out. It seemed that the land had turned, all at once, there were hundreds of faces fixed on Quatre. Feeling the heat rise to his face, he tried to roll over but was stopped by a force stronger than gravity. His head felt like a quiver and arrow had just rung out through it. He gritted his teeth and doubled over waiting for it all to stop.
He could sense them all coming towards him like an oppressive cloud. Their gritty hands stretched out, and their spindly bodies creeping. Then, they stopped and drew back. Quatre cracked one eye open in disbelief at the rows and rows of people all sitting with their legs folded under them in respectful attention for whoever or whatever was behind him. Slowly, he turned his head a little and looked as far back as possible and waited to see who was in charge.
The low, even voice from earlier addressed him, "What is your name?"
Several heartbeats passed before a reply could be made, "Quatre."
"Just 'Quatre?'" the other asked with barely the slightest hint of amusement.
"Just Quatre." the youth splayed out on the ground affirmed.
"You don't look like a 'just Quatre,' to me," the other voice said in a colder, lifeless tone. Then a little more well tempered, he added, "But you might have been rendered so by the damage you've sustained on you head."
Muted chuckles and whispered words fringed the silence that passed between the abducted and the captor.
"Who are you?" Quatre almost whispered.
"If you do not already know, you need not be told," came the reply sending small tremors up Quatre's spine. He lowered his head back to the ground feeling his mental strain catching up with him.
"Duo, bring her to the main tent after she has been checked for ills. Heero, come with me." There was quiet footsteps and then nothing. A pair of heavier, careless footfalls came his way, and he felt a strong pair of arms fork under him and lift him up.
"Wow. . .Wufei, check this out! She weighs but more than a feather!" A pair of bright blue eyes made direct contact with a wide pair of violets. "Her eyes really do light up! Look Wufei! Look!"
Before anything could really register, Quatre was exchanged from one pair of solid arms to another more pleasantly careful pair. He felt like a baby being cradled, and hung slack for a lack of anything better to do. The person that had held him before resembled one of his sisters, though he couldn't remember which one. The heart shaped face, the cat-like smirk, and upturned eyes like a Cheshire cat. And long, rope like hair pulled back behind his head, a strange sight to Quatre's unschooled eyes.
"Are you alright, miss?" Wufei asked while carefully readjusting his hold on Quatre. Poised and gentle like a crane, he used a raised knee to balance his small charge and his free hand to gently draw Quatre's head to his chest so that it wouldn't just hang from the crook of his arm. He was so careful.
"Why are you being so kind to me?" Quatre asked a little displeased at the raspy quality of his voice.
"It's natural," Wufei said simply. "Did you expect anything less?"
++
"You have nice hair," Wufei stated tonelessly. He was presently smoothing a thick, citrus smelling paste into Quatre's blood reddened mass of blond curls.
"Th-thank you," Quatre stuttered trying his best to stay awake under the intoxicating pressure of someone's fingers running through his hair.
"She looks like a cat in a girl's body, Wu!" Duo grinned. "I kind of hope that Trowa chooses to keep her. Ever seen a girl like her before? Or a boy, for that matter. . .Hey, girl, where are you from?"
Before Quatre could formulate a response, Wufei cut in, "She has a name, Maxwell."
To that, Duo rolled his eyes and buried his head in the fold of his arms, "It ain't gonna be her name anymore if she gets hitched to Trowa."
"What do you think he'd name her?" Wufei snapped. "He's as much thought in other people as he has for himself."
Duo leaned his chest on the table he'd been seated at and scooted the upper half of his body as close to Wufei as possible. "Don't say that about Trowa. He's really a nice person deep down. . .alright, really deep down. I'd give him twenty-four hours to warm up to Quatre before poke poke," he grinned touching the index finger of his right hand to the palm of his left suggestively.
Wufei raised a brow, "My only comfort in all this is that you're already spoken for."
"I'm sure Heero wouldn't mind a third party," Duo huffed with mock frustration.
Nervously, Quatre worried the hem of his shirt trying to ignore what was being said. "I...I don't really see why you think I'm a girl."
The fingers massaging his scalp paused only a moment before continuing again while Duo gawked incredulously. Then he climbed over the table and reached out purposely for between Quatre's legs when his hand was slapped away with a resounding smack. It took a moment to figure out that Wufei had actually moved, though Quatre had felt no difference in the moment leading up to and after the moment. Duo rubbed his reddened hand irately and muttered, "Death to that accursed hand of yours, Wufei."
"You had no business poking yours where it doesn't belong. You need but ask, Maxwell. You've enough wind to expel from that blasted mouth of yours."
Duo made a sour face, then did as he was bid, "So, Kat, you mean to tell us that you are a guy?"
Quatre nodded slowly, cautiously feeling as if he'd signed his own death warrant. Duo gave him a cold, hard stare before melting into a large grin.
"All the more fun," he said absolutely beaming. "If Trowa doesn't want Kat, I'll definitely take him."
Wufei fought the urge to yank Duo's braid for his callousness but instead, he opted to finish washing Quatre's hair. "Duo, I'm sure Quatre's ability to understand spoken language isn't a bad as you seem to assume."
"What do you mean?"
".Just shut up, Maxwell," Wufei hissed sliding a towel under Quatre's head and setting the bowl he'd been using off to the side.
"Well, Wuffie, someone has to claim him. It's something that Kat here is going to have to understand. He's not his own property until he's claimed, even then. . .I mean, who was it that claimed you Wufei?"
"Aurel, who was in his time long, long ago claimed by Trichus. I know all the stories. I just have a small inhibition about speaking about someone as if they were property when they're in the general vicinity and within earshot."
"I want to go home," Quatre whispered for the first time in his life.
Duo gave him a strange look, ". . .Sorry to disappoint you, but, I seriously doubt that's gonna happen. People here would be nuts to let you go."
Quatre blushed deeply and fought the frown that threatened his face, "Iria, I think she's worried. And, if I don't return home, I think that you all will have a big problem. If you let me go, I'll make sure nothing happens to you all."
"You know, at one time we all said the exact thing you just did, and we're all still here. I think you'll like it here, honestly," Duo tried a comforting smile.
At that, Quatre covered his face with his hands and exhaled deeply, his entire body tensed and tears made their way down his cheeks. Wufei calmly set down the teethed instrument he'd been using to inspect Quatre's wounds and wrapped the boy up in his arms. He set him in his lap and hugged him to his chest.
"Aish." Duo sighed and rubbed his temples. "Sorry, Kat, I just don't lie. Truth hurts, I know."
"Just don't talk," Wufei suggested dryly.
A considerable amount of time passed before Quatre had been reduced to sporadic tears in the aftershock of his initial breakdown. Duo had already left the tent in pursuit of bigger and better things leaving Wufei behind to take care of everything. The pale youth sat hunched over on a cot draped with a heavy woven blanket. It had a large sun in its center with black lacy designs all over. His brow raised as he wondered where the bandits had stolen it.
"That was Aurel's," Wufei said upon his return, balanced carefully on the tips of his fingers was a tray of fruits and tea. "He was from the north where they worship Manda."
Quatre nodded a little ashamed at himself that he was feeling a bond between himself and this Wufei. "How can you talk so candidly. . .about all this. . .Weren't you abducted too?"
Wufei allowed himself a wistful little grin as he set the tray down on top of a stack of books serving as a sort of table. "I was the son of a noble from the east. We were travelling to Kahmir to seal a pact between our clan and the kingdom there. In about the same spot your carriage was attacked, we were besieged. My father and his escorts were killed. A few years ago, I went back to my home province after Aurel died, and my mother was married again and had produced another son. So, I returned here to 'save face.' When the person that claims you dies, you are free to do as you please. It's ironic that after all my time in this place plotting the time I would leave that I returned without a second thought. I don't think about leaving anymore. This life grows on you like a sickness."
"You don't miss your family?" Quatre asked quietly.
Wufei rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head, "No, not really. My love for them is honor bound. It pains me when they ache, but not enough to return. I simply can not live their life anymore. . .but you miss your family?"
"I. . .don't know," Quatre mumbled lamely, his head suddenly feeling very heavy. "I'm afraid."
"That's understandable. It's alright to be afraid. Just don't let it rule you," Wufei said pouring some tea and placing it carefully in Quatre's unsteady hands. "Fear can be a liability."
"What will happen to me if that man, Trowa doesn't want me?" Quatre asked wincing at the words he had to use.
"If he doesn't want you, it's a free for all, basically." Wufei replied as if from a far away place. "It happens a lot."
"Would you claim me?" the blond asked uneasily, shifting in his seat trying to hide the blush that was creeping into his face.
The silence about killed him, then Wufei spoke, "I believe that I would. Do you want me to?"
"You're nicer than. . .than most of them."
Uneasy at the compliment, Wufei got up and kneeled next to Quatre on the cot and began brushing through his hair with a fine toothed comb. "Your head doesn't look too bad. Does it hurt at all?"
"It's alright," came the small reply. He could tell that his little bond charge was lying through his teeth, but he wouldn't contradict him.
"I'm going to get you some clothes to change into. It looks like Heero dragged you from the back of his horse all the way back to camp."
Quatre smiled a little at the wry humor.
++
Not too long later, Quatre was sitting in the center of a spacious tent dressed in Wufei's outgrown clothing. It was definitely a different cultural style from what Quatre had been accustomed to seeing. In his boarding school, they'd been forced to wear stiff collared uniforms. A white blouse and over it a black vest and over that a black overcoat. On the overcoat were silver cufflinks emblazoned with the school emblem, an intricately carved "W" enshrined in ivy vines. Under the starched white collar, every student wore the same black tie with golden ivy designs stamped all over it and a silver pin. Every shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of plain black pants completely devoid of pockets. And each student wore the same black socks with the same black, polished shoes. There was nothing to distinguish one person from the other apart from their face and their grades.
Back at his home province, people were beginning to lose their own flavor of dress. The rich families opted to wear clothing similar to what was seen in the faraway boarding school. Other families stuck to their old dress. That mostly consisted of loose fitting pants tied with a sash and long, heavy overcoats over a couple layers of light clothing. Most women wore hoods and dark eye make-up to shadow their faces. And they dyed their hands red, brown and black with earthy designs from the supreme book. All in all, the style of dress of Quatre's people was similar to Wufei's but definitely different.
Wufei's clothing was heavy silk bedecked with colorful designs of dragons and peacocks amid flowers and tree branches. There were many layers of such coats and shirts making almost hard to move. Quatre felt like a doll. He liked the look of what he was wearing, but actually wearing it was a different thing completely. It was every color imaginable all tastefully on one sheet of cloth. . .that weighed a ton. Quatre was glad to sit while he waited for those that were to decide his fate to make their appearances. Wufei stood next to him with his erect, soldier like posture. What he wore was considerably less grand than what Quatre was drowning in. It was a pair of pristine white pants and an overcoat that reached his ankles with a slit starting from his hips allowing for a longer range of motion. When asked about why his clothing was so simple, he answered amusedly, "I can't sew that well."
Quatre felt a little filthy in the clothes he was in. His current guardian had refused to allow him time to bathe, and nor did he really help with getting Quatre clothed. It was as if he was embarrassed by flesh.
The eastern youth stood patiently, his arched brows quirked and his mouth set in a thin grim line. He looked like he was waiting to be hit. Just as Quatre was about to say something, he heard the rustle of the tent flaps and watched three shadowed figures enter. One, he recognized as Duo, the other two weren't so familiar. They all sat in pre-arranged positions. The tallest of them sat on the center mat. One of his eyes was covered by a curtain of shiny light brown hair, his visible eye was a deep forest green, but lacked the luster of a normal person's eye. He wasn't focusing on Quatre, he hadn't, in fact, turned his attention away from whom Quatre presumed was his second in command. The other youth was shorter by a few inches with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He too had yet to notice that there were other people about. He sat to the left of the taller person. Duo flopped down carelessly to the right of the tall youth and played idly with the end of his braid.
Wufei cleared his throat politely and waited for the three people at the far end of the room to take notice. Duo's head snapped to attention while it took another minute or so for the others to turn. One green eye widened a little before returning to its natural dead appearance.
"Would you pass up claiming something like that?" Duo asked loudly cocking his head to one side.
"I've not seen a boy like that before," the blue eyed youth stated blandly. He seemed uninterested and like he'd have loved to be somewhere else. Quatre shared his sentiments.
"Where are you from, little one?" Trowa asked, his voice more void of life than his appearance. He hadn't intended to add on the little nickname to his query but decided not to make anything of it.
"Kahmir." Quatre answered guiltily.
"Nobility?"
". . .yes."
"Rank."
Quatre's mouth moved but no words came out. He had no real desire to give that little bit of information away. He bit his lip nervously while Wufei fixed him with a wary look.
"Just tell us, Kat," Duo coaxed. "It isn't going to kill you."
Quatre squeezed his eyes shut under the scrutiny he was being subjected to. No matter how hard he tried, the only sound that managed to escape his lips was a weak "mm." Fighting the constricting and contorting in his chest, he forced out a weak lie, "I am merchant rank. . .highest before royalty."
"Would I profit more by holding you ransom or keeping you here?"
". . .ransom."
"He stays, then," Trowa said idly. "He will reside within my living quarters for the time being."
Frightened, Quatre looked up at Wufei feeling the ground crumble beneath him. Surely he wouldn't allow him to be taken by this man. But, then, Wufei bowed his head, spun on his heel and left. Somehow, it was apparent that he had long ago gone on auto-pilot and would have never left otherwise. His antagonistic feelings towards Trowa in that one moment were bare and felt through Quatre.
"You've made a fine choice," Heero said as if he'd been rehearsing it his entire life. "Do you desire privacy?"
Seeing the extreme need the others felt to leave, Trowa nodded and watched them go giving himself something to concentrate on other than letting his eyes wander back to his new "property" if only for a few more seconds.
When he turned back, the blond youth was visibly drawn up into himself. He sat delicately on his legs with his hands folded neatly in his lap. His eyes were focused on the floor, and he stared as if he were seeing through it. Past the thin woven matting, through the dirt and rocks, and out the other side. He sat pensive as only a person in his position could. Vague remembrance of his similar predicament years upon years before washed over Trowa, though he shrugged it off preferring not to be bothered by it at the moment.
"Are you tired?" he asked. Struck not too long after by wide blue eyes, he continued, "Tomorrow morning, you will go see Duo to get your duties straightened out. I know that sleep is the last thing on your mind right now." his tone lowered to one of a deadlier, more commanding presence, "but I insist that you try."
It was startling how easily his tone went from vacant to poisonous and a dangerous aura seemed to just ooze from his being.
"Where do I sleep?" Quatre asked biting back the bile in his throat.
Trowa rose lifting his chin inquisitively, "Follow me." He waited for Quatre to make it to his feet before he stole out of the tent with all the flair of a confident leader, his cloak flowing behind him like black fire. To the blond boy's horror, his new "owner" all but disappeared into the shadows, his only distinguishing characteristic being the silver glinting of the incubus shaped hilt of his sword. Winking. . .winking in the darkness like a long forgotten nightmare.
++
Trowa's living quarters consisted of a rather large tent with a few different rooms separated by sheets. Most of the room in the tent was clearly not used at all. The miniscule amount of furnishings he chose to own had all been pooled about the center of the middle compartment. A mat was draped over a raised wooden platform. It looked like a stunted bed. The sheets and covers were all black and red damask, some with golden lining. Wasting no time in reminding Quatre of his current station, Trowa unrolled a sitting mat and laid it out a few feet away from his bed indicating that that was where he expected him to sleep. It looked comfortable enough, though the situation was a little less inviting. Quatre didn't revel in being watched. He lay down stiffly on the soft fabric while Trowa shrugged out of his over clothes. Somehow, it didn't seem right like he was mad about something but almost nothing indicated anything of the sort. Vague memories of visiting those whom were plagued by brilliance played out in Quatre's mind. They had moved in much the same manner like they had something important to do and were furious that it hadn't been done already.
When he was through stripping himself down to a long black shirt and form fitting pants, he turned to Quatre, "You don't look comfortable." Rewarded with the little bundle of clothing writing uneasily on the matted floor and a pair of mortified eyes chancing a glance at him, he pressed on, "We're both of the same sex, or so I've been told. You shouldn't be so apprehensive about disrobing."
The blond shook his head "no" and turned over trying to appear comfortable.
"You're stubborn," Trowa said with an acid loathing as he stalked forward and turned Quatre over. He sat carefully on his stomach and began pulling the silk fasteners out of their loops, peeling off layer and layers of clothing.
Quatre's mouth hung open at the sheer presumptuous nature of his "master," and his entire body was tense as a rod even when he was coaxed into sitting so that another robe may be discarded into the careless pile that was forming off to the left of his head. When Trowa was satisfied, he backed off and sat on his own futon without making so much as a sound. Quatre was down to the under layer of clothing, a thin blue hook and loop shirt, and loose white pants. He spent a few moments looking over his clothing, sitting on his legs with the straight posture that had long been cultured in him from childhood.
"Fold the clothes," was the last thing Trowa said to Quatre all night.
++
He woke up with a start looking about frantically with his heart beating erratically in his chest. As far as the eye could see was all desert, arid, pale, flat, sun beaten desert. The whistle of the wind in the sand dunes was all that greeted him. They were all gone, every last one of them. No tracks marked their passage swallowed up in the nighttime winds like an ill- humored dream. Sweat pricked the back of his neck and began to track down his face. Nothing for miles in all directions. The land looked without an end.
Out of nowhere a hand touched his shoulder. He turned instantly to come face to face with the most hardened, frightening face he'd ever seen in his life. Already past his fear limit, he struck out with all the force he could muster.
++
Quatre flew back before he could even register what had happened. Automatically, his hands went to his face even as he hit the ground after knocking over a small table and a chair. The hiss of his sharp intake of breath and tear choked cough filled the tent.
Trowa's eyes flew open feeling all the adrenaline ebb away quickly being replaced by a curious helplessness. He sat up and turned his head towards the muffled sobs coming from the floor. Quatre was huddled on the ground with his hands cupped over his face, a few pieces of furniture turned over near him and it took a minute for Trowa to piece it all together. He could still feel Quatre's soft skin under his knuckles, and it made his stomach turn. He called out to the boy and eased himself off his bed. Experimentally, he placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder and was immediately rebuffed by an agonized cry. He drew his hand away as if he'd been burned. Dazedly, he looked around and noticed that there had been an attempt to straighten his room, and all the clothing he'd stripped off the night before was in a neat pile off to the side of everything.
Unconsciously, a name fell from his lips, ".Wufei."
tbc