Hi everyone! This is my first fic, so be gentle. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing, as much as I wish I did. 'Lucky' is owned by Bif Naked.
Pairings: 3x4 1x2
Warnings: Oh, lots of stuff. We have yaoi, angst, angst and more angst! Tear jerker! Character death, depression, suicide, flashbacks, and teary Gundam Pilots.
Lucky Ones
I remember that day so clearly, it's like it happened two days ago, and not two years. In fact, it's two years exactly, today. The anniversary of his death.
I'm dressed in black today, to honor him. Normally I can't wear such dark colors, since I'm too pale. But today, that doesn't matter. I don't care. All I can think of is him. My Trowa.
Today is like a haze, it's passing so slowly. I phoned in to work, saying I was sick. Michael understood completely, since he knew it was coming. It was the same thing last year, too. I always take this day off, so I can think of him.
So, I'm sitting at home, with our old photo album on my lap. These pages are yellowed and cracking, the glue holding the pictures down is dry. Splotches of dark brown stains are on some of the pages, almost like coffee stains. I know that they're my tears from last year, though. I'll be adding more to them as the years without him pass. The pictures are all dated and kept in perfect order, my perfectionism showing through. At first, he didn't want to keep a photo album. But I convinced him, saying that the pictures would aid our memories.
They aid my memories.
The picture I've been looking at is one of the first ones we took. It looks slightly grainy, but I still think it's one of the best pictures in here. WuFei took it, right after we moved. The boxes are in the background, all labeled and marked appropriately. The only box that can be clearly seen is the one I'm sitting on, and it's labeled 'our room'.
This picture was taken on the spur of the moment, without either Trowa nor I noticing. I'm sitting on the box in the room where I'm sitting right now, and Trowa is leaning over me, embracing me in a firm but gentle hug. Our lips have met in our first kiss. I still remember the tingle that ran up my spine with such a small touch, but to me, it was the world and more. It was an everlasting promise, it was complete innocence, it was everything.
The picture underneath that is another good one, and one that I used to hang on the altar I had erected to my beloved. The altar is gone now, since it burned down in the fire a little under a year ago, but the picture survived. It's charred around the edges, and more than a little yellow, but I still cherish it. I'm leaning on Trowa against a snowy backdrop, the Christmas lights on the tree outside that Duo insisted we put up giving the both of us a surreal look. Trowa looks like an angel in this picture, a slight smile on his face and the green lights behind him bringing out the deep green of his eyes. There's a slight blush on his cheeks that I still wonder about, since it wasn't that cold out. He has his arm wrapped around my waist, his gloved hand barely visible on my other side. I'm smiling too, a smile promising warmth and love. I don't think I can smile like that any more.
A tear slides down y cheek to join the stains on the page from the previous year. Why did he die instead of me? I was the one slated to die. He could still be alive if it wasn't for me.
The phone rings, bringing me out of my musings. I shake my head and rub the forming tears from my eyes, hoping I don't sound too much like I've been crying. Not getting up to answer the vid phone, I reach out to the stand beside the couch and grab the green cordless phone from it's cradle, clicking the 'talk' button as I bring it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me." The voice is Duo's. I know he's calling to check up on me, since he knows what day it is. "Are you all right over there? Want some company?"
"I'm fine, Duo. If you want to come over, it's up to you." I tell him, but I don't really want company. This day is for Trowa and I.
"All right. I'll be over in a little bit, okay?" Duo reassures me, and I hold back a sigh. I'm sure he can hear the tears in my voice, and he's always been the one to worry about me since Trowa died. Heero and WuFei worry in their own way, I think, but Duo's is more open.
"Bye, Duo." I close off the conversation, but he's already hung up. I sigh again and put the phone back in it's cradle, then close the photo album and set it aside for later. Anniversary of Trowa's death or not, the house needs to be clean and I need to be proper for company. Picking up a bottle of Tylenol Threes to cure the headache I've acquired from crying, I pop the lid and shake a few of the pills out into my palm. Instead of heading to the kitchen for water, I down them dry, grimacing at the ugly taste, and shove the bottle into my pocket.
I look around the house, and a sudden lethargy comes over me. Right at this moment, I don't care what Duo and Heero think of the house. Or of me. They should understand. Grabbing the photo album from where I had set it on the wooden coffee table Trowa had made, I open it back up to the page where I had left off.
The next picture I had taken of Trowa. He was standing in an open field, his dark green denim shirt open and flapping in the wind, leaving his bare chest free of constraint. He's not looking at the camera, but off to the right, and has a serene look on his face. The sun is baring down on him, casting no shadow, and the golden wheat he's standing in matches the golden band on his left hand, visible from behind the ripples of the shirt.
The doorbell rings, and I jump. I hadn't realized I had been sitting here staring at this picture for quite that long. Grabbing the photo album by it's binding, I pick it up and set it off to the side on the couch, letting the pages flip themselves. Purposely not looking at it, I go to answer the door, knowing who's on the other side before I even reach it.
Duo opens the door himself just as I get there, letting himself in. Between the four of us, we've always said our homes are open to one another, so instead of berating him for just letting himself in, I try to smile.
"How yah doing?" Duo asks as he passes me and hangs him coat on the little band of railing that separates the front room from the landing. Heero steps in behind him, and to my surprise, wraps me in a friendship hug. I return it briefly before pulling away, and I see hundreds of emotions raging in his eyes. Fear, love, and mourning are all there, but his sadness seems to outweigh the rest of them. I think he misses Trowa almost as much as I do.
Duo comes over to me after hanging his coat, and also wraps me in a hug. His normally bright eyes are wet with unshed tears, and I know he feels my pain. I sigh into his shoulder and let go, leading them into my home.
My home. Why can't it still be Our Home? Why did he have to die? We could have been so happy, he and I.
"I'm as good as I can be, Duo." I say, blinking back tears. Suddenly, everything here reminds me of him. The coffee table, that he made. The ratty old chair that I told him to get rid of for years, but he couldn't because it was his favorite chair. The others know that I don't let anyone sit in that chair, and they stick to the couch. He used to take naps on that couch, the morning paper draped over his face. I used to tease him about the newspaper ink he sometimes got on his face.
"You sure?" Duo asks, heading for the kitchen. I know he's gone to turn on a pot of coffee. He can never come over without making coffee if I haven't already done so. I think it's more so a habit anymore than anything else. A routine. We all have routines that we immerse ourselves in when we don't want to face reality.
"We all still miss him." Heero says, trying to reassure me. I note the fact that he doesn't say Trowa's name, and I make sure to keep that in mind.
"I'll always miss him Heero. How will I ever love another when I miss him every day?" I ask more to myself than him. Trowa had said one thing with his dying breath. When he had died for me.
~~~~
The sky had started to get dark, the pink rimming the clouds. "Pink at night is sailor's delight." I told myself, smiling. Maybe Trowa and I could so something together tomorrow, like go to the park. Deciding already on the plans for tomorrow, I hopped into Sandrock, the smile still plastered on my face.
"Heero in. Mission plans go. T minus three minutes until takeoff." Heero reported over the communicator.
"Quatre in. Copy that, Heero." I said, flicking the switch to warm up the engines. A light went on in the cockpit, telling me I was low on fuel, but I didn't have time to do anything about it right then. I had asked Rasid to do the refueling, but I had forgotten that he had fallen sick shortly after I had asked.
"Duo in. Hey guys, this should be easy. I figure we only have thirty to one odds this time around." Duo started rambling, as always. I wasn't sure if that was just because of the pre-battle jitters, or because he talked that much anyway.
"Maxwell, shut up. WuFei in." The static crackled across my screen as WuFei appeared on it. I shivered. Something about this mission wasn't right, and it wasn't only my low fuel problem.
"Trowa in." My lover stated calmly. He always repressed himself more than usual right before a battle, but suddenly I felt absolutely sure that something was wrong.
On impulse, I started rambling as well. "Trowa, I hope this mission goes all right. You know I love you, and I would give my life for yours."
"Angel, never pay the Reaper with love only." Trowa said sincerely. Everyone else had fallen silent at my sudden outburst, but I didn't care.
"I will always love you. And I would give my life for yours." I repeated. What else could I say? "We are the lucky ones, we found love."
"T minus sixty seconds. Monday, June twenty seventh, A.C. one-nine- eight." Heero stated into the break in conversation.
"Oh, and happy birthday, Quatre." Duo told me as we started to take off. He was the first one up, WuFei only seconds behind. I lagged a bit because of my low fuel, but soon caught up with the rest of them.
"Thanks, Duo." I said, putting a fake smile on my face. The mission was more important than the feeling in the pit of my stomach, even if I felt like doubling over in pain. I kept it to myself, since I knew that the others went on my intuition as much as my leadership. My feelings always seemed to turn out right, but this mission was hopefully one of the last. If this one went right, peace would be on our doorstep. "But it's not going to be happy if everything works out the way I think it will."
"What was that?" WuFei asked, his face flickering across my communications screen. He looked slightly troubled by something, but he seemed to be ignoring it.
"I said I hope everything works out." I lied. I couldn't tell them the way I felt; sacrificing this mission would mean too much to everyone alive.
"Are you all right, Quatre?" Trowa asked, his face replacing WuFei's. He had a look of worry that only I could see, since I knew the way he displayed emotions. His brow was creased ever so slightly, and his eyes were a darker green than usual.
"Just a bad feeling." I said lightly, hoping that he would leave it at that, but at the same time hoping he would ask further.
I felt disappointed and relieved at the same time when he responded. "All right, if you're sure."
No, my mind screamed, I'm definitely not sure! "I'm sure, Trowa. Let's get this mission completed so we can go home." I told him sincerely, hoping it would be as simple as that.
~~~~
"What's this?" Duo sits down on the couch beside me, picking up the photo album I had been looking at. I sigh and bite back tears at the sudden jolt from my memories, catching a glimpse of the page I had left it open to as he picks up the large binder.
Reaching for it, I answer numbly. "It's a photo album he and I kept when he was still alive."
Duo readily hands it over, smiling tightly. "So when was the first time you guys made love?"
I'm shocked at the statement, and I think my eyes grow a size. Heero's do as well, but I can oddly enough see the reasoning behind it. He's trying to get me to remember the good times with Trowa, instead of the fact that he's dead.
The first time we made love, I wasn't sober." I smile at that fact. Out of all of us, I had been the one to abstain from alcohol the longest, but I had succumbed to it the day that the second war we had fought had ended. That has been the one and only time I have ever drank, and probably the only time I ever will.
"You were drunk?" Heero asks, the surprise obvious in his voice.
A picture of my beloved sitting on the mantle above the computer catches my attention, and I stare at it, talking to it instead of Heero and Duo. "I was drunk." I nod. "The first time we made love I- I wasn't sober. And you told me you loved me over and over." I smile again, but the tears I'm holding back makes it watery. Those same tears are beginning to blur the picture, making it seem like it's really him standing there, that small smile on his face. Oh, if only it were the truth...
"Hey, we're over here." Duo waves his hand in front of my face, shattering the image. "Talk to us. We're here for you." Suddenly, Duo flies into a rage. "We're here and he's not. I can't believe he would just leave us - leave you - like that! How stupid! He didn't even say goodbye! How could he do that to all of us?" Tears begin to stream from his eyes, and Heero gets up, catching Duo in a tight embrace.
That makes me break. I hate being weak and full of emotion sometimes. The tears start falling down my cheeks as well, but there's no one here to hold me. But I don't want just anyone to hold me. I want Trowa. Why couldn't he be here, to hold me, to love me? To promise me eternity as he had when he was alive?
"He had to, Duo." Heero says calmly, but as he turns Duo so he can face me, I can see the tears running down his cheeks as well. "He had no choice. It wasn't his fault."
"No." I speak softly, as if scared of shattering the image I'm calling life. "It was my fault. He died saving me."
~~~~
The fuel gauge on my Gundam was beeping. I had about two minutes left before I plummeted to the ground. I shook my head, tapping the gauge and hoping to Allah that it was broken. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. "All right, Sandrock. I'll land. Just let me tell the others first, okay?" I spoke to the machine. To me, it felt like another entity, a friend. A long time friend. But Sandrock just beeped in response.
Turning on the communicator, I brought everyone up on screen, watching distractedly as the screen spilt into four and showed each of my friends concentrating on battle. "Guys, I'm low on fuel. If I don't land now, I'll drop like a stone. Someone cover me, please?"
Everyone was wrapped up in their own fights, and only Trowa acknowledged my plight. "I'll cover. Go ahead, Quatre." Trowa gave me one of his promising smiles, and I smiled thankfully in return, maneuvering Sandrock down to the welcoming surface of the ground. I wouldn't have enough fuel left to fight, but hopefully I could either find some left from some Mobile Suit that hadn't been too badly damaged, or I could find a spot to hide until the fight was over.
I heard rather than saw the enemy Suit on my radar, and I knew it was too late for me to turn around and shoot it. My only chance was in close combat, so I pulled out my scimitars and tried to turn around. The cockpit suddenly went black though, and I knew that I had run out of fuel as I felt myself falling. Gratefully, I was close to the ground, and the only damage Sandrock got was a few twisted panels. I, however, had not fared so well. The jarring I had gotten from such a rough landing had thrown me forward, making me hit my head on the panel. I had my belt on, which had probably saved my life, but at that moment I could only wish it hadn't as pain exploded through my skull.
A sitting duck, I couldn't even communicate with the others. The enemy Suit was in my sights through the now blank window screens, which showed me the charred battlefield and the advancing enemy instead of the configuration maps and target settings they normally had. A feeling of helplessness crept up my spine as I lost sight of the enemy Suit, and it was followed by a rush of pain so bad I doubled over in the seat, howling. The console flickered to life by some unknown force, but I knew I couldn't move. All I could see was Trowa's face contorted in pain and covered in blood as Duo screamed.
"Quatre, Angel. Love you. Please, bless someone else with the love you have given me." Was all I could hear him whisper through the communications panel before his section of the screen abruptly went black. In dumbstruck awe, I looked out the main window in my little cockpit and, ignored the targeting systems, watched as HeavyArms fell within arm's reach, battered almost beyond recognition. It was my turn to scream as my console once again went black.
~~~~
"I- I didn't know." Duo whispers after I relate the entire story back to him. "Oh, God, I am so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Duo." I smile again, but this smile is full of self hatred and loathing. "It's mine."
"It's not your fault. He chose to save you. It was his choice." Heero tries to reassure me, but his words fall on deaf ears.
Suddenly wanting to change the topic, I pick the photo album up off my lap. There are a few pictures in here that I cherish more than the rest because they had been taken only days before Trowa had left me. Trowa himself had taken most of them, and developed them himself too. He told me that he didn't want anyone else seeing them, and up until now, I have kept his promise.
"I remember the time we made love in the roses." I start off, flipping through the pages of pictures to the very back. "I've never shown these to anyone, since he made me promise not to."
"You don't have to-"
"I do, Duo. These pictures were taken days before he-" My breath caught in my throat on the last word. It has been two years, and I still can't say it.
"All right." He sighs in defeat, knowing already that I won't give up on something I have my heart set on. I have always been like that, and I guess I always will.
"He took my picture in all sorts of poses." I whisper more to myself than the others, but I have a feeling they heard it too. Finally finding the pictures I want, I set the book open on my lap, unashamed of the pictures of he and I.
The picture were all taken in the same place. It's a garden of sorts, the one we have out back. We converted it into a rose garden, since I love roses. In the middle of our flowered yard, we have a gazebo that we painted a dark mahogany, and that was often where we had our tea on warm days. It's still there, and I keep the gardens looking perfect.
The first picture is one of me, wearing a light blue jacket against the warmth of the sun. Underneath, I'm wearing a white T-shirt and khakis. I look positively radiant, holding a cut rose up to smell it's beauty.
"You look happy." Duo says almost wistfully. My hair has grown since then, and I keep it back in a loose form of WuFei's tight hairstyle. I have my left ear pierced, and a hoop I always wear with a lion on it, for Trowa's sake. He had an earring just like this one. It sits in a little case, the same one I had bought it in. We were going to put it on him when we has to be buried, but Catherine refused. So, it sits in all protection in the little box on my nightstand.
"I haven't seen you that happy since before-" Heero stops. It seems he's having the same problem I was. He couldn't actually say Trowa is dead, either. I think we all hope he'll come back some day, since none of us had seen the corpse. Not that I wanted to, but it left that unfinished feeling, the little spark of hope that he could be wandering around with amnesia, like he had been the first time something like that had happened.
But for two years, I've been waiting. That little spark is waning.
"I haven't been that happy, Heero." I speak, my voice sounding soft, like it isn't really me speaking. "I won't ever be that happy until I see him again."
Without really talking about the picture, we continue to the next one. It's rather lewd, and these few are the ones that Trowa didn't want anyone else to see. I'm laying on the seat in the gazebo, wearing nothing but the rose I had been holding earlier. I have a totally angelic smile on my face, the exact opposite of the tight lipped smile I wear now. I have one hand reaching out as if beckoning, and the other one is up to my lips.
"Your smile is so beautiful." Duo smiles softly to himself. They don't seem to care that I'm not wearing anything in the picture. They see the picture for what it is, not something that was meant to be lewd and disgusting.
I flip the page to the next picture, which is one of Trowa. The picture is at an odd angle, as if the person holding it was laughing. I remember taking that picture. Trowa had done a strip tease for me, and the reason my hands were unsteady was not because of mirth, but because of need. Trowa had laid down on the floor of the open gazebo, wearing only a full fledged smile, something no one but I have ever seen. He had arranged himself so that there was nothing showing, but the mind can produce things that a picture could never capture.
"He's smiling." Heero whispers, his face almost radiating awe. None of the others have ever seen him smile so beautifully, and when I asked Trowa why, he had told me that 'I save it all for you. Only you make me smile like that.'
"I've never seen him smile." Duo adds. He too, is in awe. The picture is one of true art, even if it is a little lopsided. I close the book from there, since I've shown all I need to.
"I wish I could see him smile like that again." I say despondently. Once again, my eyes have filled with tears as a soft knock sounds at the door.
Duo gets up slowly, his sorrow turning into lethargy as mine had. Leaving Heero and I on the couch, he goes to answer the door.
"Maxwell." A voice I haven't heard in over a month states as WuFei walks in. "How are you guys doing?"
"I'm alive." Duo tells him, trying to lighten the mood. The emotion in the room is almost tangible, and WuFei noticed it as he came in.
"Are you sure?" He asks, his voice softer than I have heard in a long time. He has become very callous towards others, but to us he shows who he really is beneath the mask. I think it's the same for everyone in this room.
"We're as good as we can be, WuFei." Heero answers, his voice detached. I can still hear the sadness, though, or is that my imagination?
"Thinking about Trowa?" WuFei asks, breaking the silent tension in the room. None of us have said his name, as if under some unspoken agreement, and at the sound of it, a fresh well of tears starts from my eyes.
"Why?" I ask, the tears flowing freely. "Why did he have to die for me? Never pay the Reaper with love only. That's what he told me. And then he sacrifices himself for me. Why?"
No one answers, but I'm not really expecting them to. Heero and Duo have just learned what had happened, and WuFei had been there for me the first time. But even so, the only one who can answer that question is Trowa. My Trowa. My beloved. I still wear the ring he had given me, a gold band to match his. The inscription simply read 'My Angel', but it was enough. I knew I would never take that ring off again.
Not willing or ready to let the others see my tears, I get up from the couch, dumping the photo album unceremoniously on the floor, and bolt. I don't care where I'm going, I just want out of that room.
Not watching where I'm going, I trip over the set of three stairs that lead up to the gazebo in the back yard. I doubt that the others will follow me out here, letting me deal with this in my own way. I crawl up into the gazebo and curl into a fetal position as a bottle of pills rolls out of my pocket and onto the deck. I look at them for a moment, then realize that they are from before, when I had taken a few to cure a headache.
The vid phone rings once before Maxwell answers. I don't think I've ever seen him that jumpy before, but he's bound to be nervous. Winner hasn't come back in over an hour, and I'm not exactly sure where he fled to.
"Hello Winner/Barton residence. Quatre and Trowa aren't in at the moment, may I take a message?" Maxwell answers automatically before he can think. He pauses for a few moments, as does the person on the other end of the line. I presume that the person knows Winner well enough to have caught Maxwell's mistake, since whomever it is has had the decency to wait for Maxwell to correct himself.
When Maxwell doesn't decide to correct himself, the person finally begins a conversation. "I'm sorry, I must have called at a bad time." The accent is the same one that Winner shows every now and again, when he's nervous or tired. Once again, I presume that the person on the other end of the line is one of Winner's followers, the Maguanacs.
"No, it's all right. I can take a message." Maxwell shakes his head slightly.
"I was just wondering if Master Quatre has eaten anything yet today. The past few days when I've called to check up on him, he hasn't. He'll die of starvation if this continues." The voice states clearly. I blink. I never thought that Winner would ever sink to those depths.
"Yuy, I suppose we should go find him." I tell Maxwell's boyfriend, and he nods. If we're thinking along the same lines, we may be short on time. Winner may have descended to far to help if we don't hurry.
"Duo, stay here." Yuy tells the braided man, and Maxwell nods, still talking to the Maguanac. I believe his name is Rasid, but I'm not sure. I know that Maxwell is quite smart, and has probably figured out why we don't want him to come, but he never acts like the man he is supposed to be. I think that in itself shows that he is smarter than he seems.
Both Yuy and I get up from our respective seats, and he adjusts his ever present green tank top. Although he has traded in the awful spandex for black jeans, he never has changed the tank top. Sometimes I wonder if it's the same one he wore in the wars.
"Where do you think he went?" I ask as we head out the way Winner went. There are many possibilities, since there are three doors off the kitchen; one leads a short way down a hall to the bedroom, another leads to the basement, and the last leads out to the beautiful garden in the back.
"You try his room. I'll try outside. I don't think he's in the basement." Yuy thinks out logically, and I nod, heading down the hall. I've never been in this part of the house before, and it astounds me. It's as clean as the rest of the house normally is, but there's a slight difference. The front room and kitchen look pretty domestic, the way you would expect it to look with the Winner heir. But down this hall, pictures in dark frames reign.
Most of the pictures are of both Winner and Barton, but there are some from his youth. A picture of him and an older man, whom I presume to be his father, grace a small area beneath a large version of their first kiss, and I have half a heart to stop and look at it. Also, a picture of Barton's sister is there beside the one of Winner and his father. Shaking my head at what must have been years of memories for both of my friends, I continue down to his room.
'We were the Lucky Ones' graces the door in neat calligraphy. I never knew Winner had such a talent for art. He had never said anything about it. Knocking first and getting no answer, I slowly open the door. Careful not to scare him if he is in there, I poke my head through the door and draw in a sharp breath.
The room is as neat and tidy as the rest of the house, as is to be expected. The bed is made, the night clothes folded and peeking out from underneath the large, fluffy pillows. The room almost looks too small to hold the bed and dresser in it, but I believe it's because of everything on the walls.
The walls themselves look like a huge collage, made from drawn artwork. Some of it is just penciled in, and some of it is colored, giving the room an odd off color tone. The artwork is wonderfully done, and looks very realistic. The pictures range from silly clowns to Barton and Winner, and I doubt that any of it is very new. The pages are old and yellow, as if someone has been smoking in here, and a few of them are slowly pulling away from the wall.
Staring in awe at one picture of the deceased Trowa Barton, I wonder why Winner has hidden a talent such as this. He's a beautiful artist, and deserves credit for what he's done. On one wall are the pictures sure to be done by Barton, but they are just as good as the ones done by Winner, thought a bit more of a somber tone.
Tearing my eyes away from the artwork, I quickly look through the room to find it devoid of any occupants besides myself. I shut the door behind me as I leave, allowing myself a small smile at what I had seen as I make my way back out to the front room.
"Wu, Hee-chan found him." Maxwell says as I walk back into the main room, his voice wavering. I can only see the tops of Yuy's and Maxwell's head over the back of the couch, and I guess they're both sitting on the ground in front of it. But that doesn't tell me where Winner is.
I make my way around the couch slowly, my thoughts tossing and turning at the implications the scene suggests. I just hope that most of then aren't true.
It seems as if the world slows down as the full scene comes into view. Maxwell's holding a very pale Winner in his lap, fresh tears falling from his cheeks onto a still face below. Yuy's on his hands and knees, pounding the floor with his fist, tears flowing from his eyes as well. The first thing I notice is that Winner's chest isn't moving. He isn't breathing.
"WuFei, call nine-one-one." Yuy grinds out, and all I can do is nod silently. I walk around the couch again, as if the floor where Winner, Yuy, and Maxwell are is forbidden ground. Reaching the vid phone, I turn it on with a barely audible click and dial the number.
"Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?" A female voice answers the phone as her face appears on the vid. She looks somber and foreboding, and it feels almost as if she's staring right through me.
"I have a man down. I don't think he's breathing, and I'm not sure how long he's been out. At most, an hour. His name is Quatre. Do you need an address?" I report, my voice oddly calm. It's happening again. When Barton died, I had gone into recession, and hadn't talked for almost three months. Only Maxwell's persistence had brought me out of it. It's happening again.
"Do you know what happened?" The woman asks, staring at me as if it's my fault.
For this one, I have to look to Yuy. In response, he holds up a bottle of pills. "It looks like a pill overdose." I say. Again, I look to Yuy.
"Over half." He croaks, teas deforming his voice.
"Over half the bottle was taken, at most an hour ago."
"Why would he do something like that, do you know?" The operator asks.
I sigh regretfully. "It's the second anniversary of his husband's death." I respond. Right at the moment, I don't care if they had never really been married, even if it were possible. We had thought of them as such, and she's going to think so too, for now.
"The address?" She asks brusquely.
"Forty seven Barit Street." I respond almost automatically. We all know each others' addresses off by heart, since we're so close. It's almost like having three homes.
"Any family?" She asks, continuing the barrage of questions. I'm not sure if I can take it any more without breaking down.
"Yeah." Maxwell answers from behind me. "I can't name off all of his sisters, I know he has a lot of them, but I know Catherine."
"Catherine Bloom." I name off the only living relative of his I know. We all know Catherine from her frequent visits when Barton was still alive.
"Is that Quatre's last name?" She asks while writing down the information I've given her. I feel a little relieved that she's not staring through me.
I pause for a moment. "No, his last name is Barton. Maiden name Winner." I shift slightly. I just lied in the information according to law, but to all of us it's the truth.
"You're talking about Quatre Winner, the corporate leader of Winner foundation?" She asks sharply, he head snapping up.
Again, I pause. "Yes, the same."
"Please stay on the line. An ambulance is on it's way." She tells me, but her voice sounds far away. My job here is finished, and I suddenly feel the weight of sadness come crashing down on me. Quatre Winner, no, Quatre Barton, one of my good friends, one of my only friends, is dead. Laying on the floor behind me.
I turn from the operator, letting her think what she would. My eyes fall on the prone form of my friend, laying on the floor. He looks so pale, so lifeless. His eyes are shut, but even they look dead. Something inside of me realizes that in the past two years, they had looked dead then as well. Trowa's death has taken a toll on his frail frame. He looks thinner than I ever remember him, and his brow is creased with age that shouldn't be there.
But he has found a way out. He's found a way to join his lover. If not in this life, then in the next. "We are the Lucky Ones." I find myself repeating the calligraphy I had found on his door. It was true. He and Trowa had been the Lucky Ones. They had found love that persisted even in death. I smile, wishing him fortune in the next life.
The sirens outside get close enough to drown out anything else anyone might have said. Two men knock loudly on the door, and I go to answer it like a machine.
"Where-?" One of the men asks. I point to Quatre, laying on the floor. Both of them rush over to him, falling to their knees and shoving both Duo and Heero out of the way. Duo sinks into Heero's arms, turning his face into his shoulder to soak it with tears.
I sit by the doorway, the door still open, and watch as the two men work. I'm smiling like a maniac, singing to myself lyrics to a song Quatre had once played for me.
It was a Monday when my lover told me,
"Never pay the Reaper with love only"
What could I say to you except "I love you."
and "I'd give my life for yours."
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones, Dear.
The first time we made love I- I wasn't sober.
(And you told me you loved me over and over!)
How could I ever love another, when I miss you every day...
Remember the time we made love in the roses?
(And you took my picture in all sorts of poses!)
How could I ever get over you, when I'd give my life for yours.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones, Dear.
My dear,
It's time to say I tank God for you.
I thank God for you in each and every single way.
And I know... I know... I know... I know... its time
to let you know. Time to let you know. Time to sit here and say:
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones, Dear.
We are the Lucky Ones, Dear.
How can Wu smile like that? These two men look like they aren't going to be able to revive poor Quatre. Oh, God, why did you have to take him too? Why must everyone I love die? Why?
It's just not fair. First poor Tro, now Cat... I thought that no one was supposed to die, now that the wars are over. We made it through two wars, almost three without losing anyone. Now we're standing here, looking at Quatre's pale, dead face as two strangers try to give him something he hasn't felt in two years. Life.
Two years. You know, with Trowa dying on Quatre's birthday, we haven't celebrated Quatre's birthday in two years. This time, though, I know the perfect gift to give him. It's going to break my heart, but I think it's for the best. He had been living without life for two years... now his body's finally followed his soul.
"Stop." I almost whisper into Heero's shoulder. "Stop it."
"Stop what?" Heero asks softly, his voice a rough whisper. I've never seen him cry this much since...
I turn around, still encased in Heero's strong arms. I'm going to need his strength to give Quatre this last Birthday gift. "Stop torturing him. He's been dead for two years, let him go."
My voice sounds high pitched and whiny, the effect of the tears. I sniffle when the two men ignore me, then with a burst of courage and strength, I break out of Heero's grasp and hit one of them. It's not enough to hurt the poor man, he's only doing his job. But its enough to get him to listen.
"Stop. He's-" My voice cuts itself off as I try to say the last word. I had said it only moments ago, but it's harder now that I'm trying to say it to someone who won't understand.
In the silence, the haunting tune WuFei's humming reaches my ears. It seems so familiar, but I can't seem to place it. I've heard it before, but I can't remember it.
The man I had hit finally sighs in resignation, nodding to his partner as he packs away his tools of the trade and pulls out a body bag. I shudder.
"No. We'll take care of the body." I say. I'm the only one talking, breaking the silence. It feels like a physical barrier, it's so heavy, but what I'm saying needs to be done.
"The body needs to be examined." One of the men tells me, rolling out the bag.
I growl at him. No, it does not. He died of loneliness, his heart torn to shreds from losing the one he loved. He died from regret, knowing it should have been him to years ago. He died in happiness, now let him be."
The men turn to each other, obviously not sure what to do with the request. Finally, the one furthest from me nods, and he gets up to leave. "We'll notify he hospital." I have a feeling he knows what we're going through, and I thank him with a meaningful glance. The other one, still a little unsure as to what to do, rolls the body bag back up and puts it back into the large pack. They leave without another word, and for that, I think we're all thankful.
"What were you humming, WuFei?" Heero asks as he calmly shuts the door behind the two paramedics.
"Lucky Ones." He answers carefully. At our blank looks, he explains. "Do you remember the song that Quatre played at Trowa's funeral?"
It clicks, though it feels odd to hear WuFei call them by their first names. "Lucky Ones. It was so close to what had happened..." I trial off.
"I know." WuFei says forlornly. "I finally understand the meaning behind that song. They were truly lucky to have found the love they had, one that lasted beyond life and into death." He comes over and kisses his fingers, placing them on Quatre's cheek. "When Trowa died, Quatre died. His body finally chose to follow."
Heero comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his cheek on my shoulder. I can feel the tears soak through my shirt, but I don't care. I think I've finally understood the meaning behind that song too.
"I know we are the Lucky Ones." Heero whispers from behind me. I nod. We are. I know Quatre's birthday won't be such a sad occasion anymore. He has finally found his way to Love.
Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing, as much as I wish I did. 'Lucky' is owned by Bif Naked.
Pairings: 3x4 1x2
Warnings: Oh, lots of stuff. We have yaoi, angst, angst and more angst! Tear jerker! Character death, depression, suicide, flashbacks, and teary Gundam Pilots.
Lucky Ones
I remember that day so clearly, it's like it happened two days ago, and not two years. In fact, it's two years exactly, today. The anniversary of his death.
I'm dressed in black today, to honor him. Normally I can't wear such dark colors, since I'm too pale. But today, that doesn't matter. I don't care. All I can think of is him. My Trowa.
Today is like a haze, it's passing so slowly. I phoned in to work, saying I was sick. Michael understood completely, since he knew it was coming. It was the same thing last year, too. I always take this day off, so I can think of him.
So, I'm sitting at home, with our old photo album on my lap. These pages are yellowed and cracking, the glue holding the pictures down is dry. Splotches of dark brown stains are on some of the pages, almost like coffee stains. I know that they're my tears from last year, though. I'll be adding more to them as the years without him pass. The pictures are all dated and kept in perfect order, my perfectionism showing through. At first, he didn't want to keep a photo album. But I convinced him, saying that the pictures would aid our memories.
They aid my memories.
The picture I've been looking at is one of the first ones we took. It looks slightly grainy, but I still think it's one of the best pictures in here. WuFei took it, right after we moved. The boxes are in the background, all labeled and marked appropriately. The only box that can be clearly seen is the one I'm sitting on, and it's labeled 'our room'.
This picture was taken on the spur of the moment, without either Trowa nor I noticing. I'm sitting on the box in the room where I'm sitting right now, and Trowa is leaning over me, embracing me in a firm but gentle hug. Our lips have met in our first kiss. I still remember the tingle that ran up my spine with such a small touch, but to me, it was the world and more. It was an everlasting promise, it was complete innocence, it was everything.
The picture underneath that is another good one, and one that I used to hang on the altar I had erected to my beloved. The altar is gone now, since it burned down in the fire a little under a year ago, but the picture survived. It's charred around the edges, and more than a little yellow, but I still cherish it. I'm leaning on Trowa against a snowy backdrop, the Christmas lights on the tree outside that Duo insisted we put up giving the both of us a surreal look. Trowa looks like an angel in this picture, a slight smile on his face and the green lights behind him bringing out the deep green of his eyes. There's a slight blush on his cheeks that I still wonder about, since it wasn't that cold out. He has his arm wrapped around my waist, his gloved hand barely visible on my other side. I'm smiling too, a smile promising warmth and love. I don't think I can smile like that any more.
A tear slides down y cheek to join the stains on the page from the previous year. Why did he die instead of me? I was the one slated to die. He could still be alive if it wasn't for me.
The phone rings, bringing me out of my musings. I shake my head and rub the forming tears from my eyes, hoping I don't sound too much like I've been crying. Not getting up to answer the vid phone, I reach out to the stand beside the couch and grab the green cordless phone from it's cradle, clicking the 'talk' button as I bring it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me." The voice is Duo's. I know he's calling to check up on me, since he knows what day it is. "Are you all right over there? Want some company?"
"I'm fine, Duo. If you want to come over, it's up to you." I tell him, but I don't really want company. This day is for Trowa and I.
"All right. I'll be over in a little bit, okay?" Duo reassures me, and I hold back a sigh. I'm sure he can hear the tears in my voice, and he's always been the one to worry about me since Trowa died. Heero and WuFei worry in their own way, I think, but Duo's is more open.
"Bye, Duo." I close off the conversation, but he's already hung up. I sigh again and put the phone back in it's cradle, then close the photo album and set it aside for later. Anniversary of Trowa's death or not, the house needs to be clean and I need to be proper for company. Picking up a bottle of Tylenol Threes to cure the headache I've acquired from crying, I pop the lid and shake a few of the pills out into my palm. Instead of heading to the kitchen for water, I down them dry, grimacing at the ugly taste, and shove the bottle into my pocket.
I look around the house, and a sudden lethargy comes over me. Right at this moment, I don't care what Duo and Heero think of the house. Or of me. They should understand. Grabbing the photo album from where I had set it on the wooden coffee table Trowa had made, I open it back up to the page where I had left off.
The next picture I had taken of Trowa. He was standing in an open field, his dark green denim shirt open and flapping in the wind, leaving his bare chest free of constraint. He's not looking at the camera, but off to the right, and has a serene look on his face. The sun is baring down on him, casting no shadow, and the golden wheat he's standing in matches the golden band on his left hand, visible from behind the ripples of the shirt.
The doorbell rings, and I jump. I hadn't realized I had been sitting here staring at this picture for quite that long. Grabbing the photo album by it's binding, I pick it up and set it off to the side on the couch, letting the pages flip themselves. Purposely not looking at it, I go to answer the door, knowing who's on the other side before I even reach it.
Duo opens the door himself just as I get there, letting himself in. Between the four of us, we've always said our homes are open to one another, so instead of berating him for just letting himself in, I try to smile.
"How yah doing?" Duo asks as he passes me and hangs him coat on the little band of railing that separates the front room from the landing. Heero steps in behind him, and to my surprise, wraps me in a friendship hug. I return it briefly before pulling away, and I see hundreds of emotions raging in his eyes. Fear, love, and mourning are all there, but his sadness seems to outweigh the rest of them. I think he misses Trowa almost as much as I do.
Duo comes over to me after hanging his coat, and also wraps me in a hug. His normally bright eyes are wet with unshed tears, and I know he feels my pain. I sigh into his shoulder and let go, leading them into my home.
My home. Why can't it still be Our Home? Why did he have to die? We could have been so happy, he and I.
"I'm as good as I can be, Duo." I say, blinking back tears. Suddenly, everything here reminds me of him. The coffee table, that he made. The ratty old chair that I told him to get rid of for years, but he couldn't because it was his favorite chair. The others know that I don't let anyone sit in that chair, and they stick to the couch. He used to take naps on that couch, the morning paper draped over his face. I used to tease him about the newspaper ink he sometimes got on his face.
"You sure?" Duo asks, heading for the kitchen. I know he's gone to turn on a pot of coffee. He can never come over without making coffee if I haven't already done so. I think it's more so a habit anymore than anything else. A routine. We all have routines that we immerse ourselves in when we don't want to face reality.
"We all still miss him." Heero says, trying to reassure me. I note the fact that he doesn't say Trowa's name, and I make sure to keep that in mind.
"I'll always miss him Heero. How will I ever love another when I miss him every day?" I ask more to myself than him. Trowa had said one thing with his dying breath. When he had died for me.
~~~~
The sky had started to get dark, the pink rimming the clouds. "Pink at night is sailor's delight." I told myself, smiling. Maybe Trowa and I could so something together tomorrow, like go to the park. Deciding already on the plans for tomorrow, I hopped into Sandrock, the smile still plastered on my face.
"Heero in. Mission plans go. T minus three minutes until takeoff." Heero reported over the communicator.
"Quatre in. Copy that, Heero." I said, flicking the switch to warm up the engines. A light went on in the cockpit, telling me I was low on fuel, but I didn't have time to do anything about it right then. I had asked Rasid to do the refueling, but I had forgotten that he had fallen sick shortly after I had asked.
"Duo in. Hey guys, this should be easy. I figure we only have thirty to one odds this time around." Duo started rambling, as always. I wasn't sure if that was just because of the pre-battle jitters, or because he talked that much anyway.
"Maxwell, shut up. WuFei in." The static crackled across my screen as WuFei appeared on it. I shivered. Something about this mission wasn't right, and it wasn't only my low fuel problem.
"Trowa in." My lover stated calmly. He always repressed himself more than usual right before a battle, but suddenly I felt absolutely sure that something was wrong.
On impulse, I started rambling as well. "Trowa, I hope this mission goes all right. You know I love you, and I would give my life for yours."
"Angel, never pay the Reaper with love only." Trowa said sincerely. Everyone else had fallen silent at my sudden outburst, but I didn't care.
"I will always love you. And I would give my life for yours." I repeated. What else could I say? "We are the lucky ones, we found love."
"T minus sixty seconds. Monday, June twenty seventh, A.C. one-nine- eight." Heero stated into the break in conversation.
"Oh, and happy birthday, Quatre." Duo told me as we started to take off. He was the first one up, WuFei only seconds behind. I lagged a bit because of my low fuel, but soon caught up with the rest of them.
"Thanks, Duo." I said, putting a fake smile on my face. The mission was more important than the feeling in the pit of my stomach, even if I felt like doubling over in pain. I kept it to myself, since I knew that the others went on my intuition as much as my leadership. My feelings always seemed to turn out right, but this mission was hopefully one of the last. If this one went right, peace would be on our doorstep. "But it's not going to be happy if everything works out the way I think it will."
"What was that?" WuFei asked, his face flickering across my communications screen. He looked slightly troubled by something, but he seemed to be ignoring it.
"I said I hope everything works out." I lied. I couldn't tell them the way I felt; sacrificing this mission would mean too much to everyone alive.
"Are you all right, Quatre?" Trowa asked, his face replacing WuFei's. He had a look of worry that only I could see, since I knew the way he displayed emotions. His brow was creased ever so slightly, and his eyes were a darker green than usual.
"Just a bad feeling." I said lightly, hoping that he would leave it at that, but at the same time hoping he would ask further.
I felt disappointed and relieved at the same time when he responded. "All right, if you're sure."
No, my mind screamed, I'm definitely not sure! "I'm sure, Trowa. Let's get this mission completed so we can go home." I told him sincerely, hoping it would be as simple as that.
~~~~
"What's this?" Duo sits down on the couch beside me, picking up the photo album I had been looking at. I sigh and bite back tears at the sudden jolt from my memories, catching a glimpse of the page I had left it open to as he picks up the large binder.
Reaching for it, I answer numbly. "It's a photo album he and I kept when he was still alive."
Duo readily hands it over, smiling tightly. "So when was the first time you guys made love?"
I'm shocked at the statement, and I think my eyes grow a size. Heero's do as well, but I can oddly enough see the reasoning behind it. He's trying to get me to remember the good times with Trowa, instead of the fact that he's dead.
The first time we made love, I wasn't sober." I smile at that fact. Out of all of us, I had been the one to abstain from alcohol the longest, but I had succumbed to it the day that the second war we had fought had ended. That has been the one and only time I have ever drank, and probably the only time I ever will.
"You were drunk?" Heero asks, the surprise obvious in his voice.
A picture of my beloved sitting on the mantle above the computer catches my attention, and I stare at it, talking to it instead of Heero and Duo. "I was drunk." I nod. "The first time we made love I- I wasn't sober. And you told me you loved me over and over." I smile again, but the tears I'm holding back makes it watery. Those same tears are beginning to blur the picture, making it seem like it's really him standing there, that small smile on his face. Oh, if only it were the truth...
"Hey, we're over here." Duo waves his hand in front of my face, shattering the image. "Talk to us. We're here for you." Suddenly, Duo flies into a rage. "We're here and he's not. I can't believe he would just leave us - leave you - like that! How stupid! He didn't even say goodbye! How could he do that to all of us?" Tears begin to stream from his eyes, and Heero gets up, catching Duo in a tight embrace.
That makes me break. I hate being weak and full of emotion sometimes. The tears start falling down my cheeks as well, but there's no one here to hold me. But I don't want just anyone to hold me. I want Trowa. Why couldn't he be here, to hold me, to love me? To promise me eternity as he had when he was alive?
"He had to, Duo." Heero says calmly, but as he turns Duo so he can face me, I can see the tears running down his cheeks as well. "He had no choice. It wasn't his fault."
"No." I speak softly, as if scared of shattering the image I'm calling life. "It was my fault. He died saving me."
~~~~
The fuel gauge on my Gundam was beeping. I had about two minutes left before I plummeted to the ground. I shook my head, tapping the gauge and hoping to Allah that it was broken. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. "All right, Sandrock. I'll land. Just let me tell the others first, okay?" I spoke to the machine. To me, it felt like another entity, a friend. A long time friend. But Sandrock just beeped in response.
Turning on the communicator, I brought everyone up on screen, watching distractedly as the screen spilt into four and showed each of my friends concentrating on battle. "Guys, I'm low on fuel. If I don't land now, I'll drop like a stone. Someone cover me, please?"
Everyone was wrapped up in their own fights, and only Trowa acknowledged my plight. "I'll cover. Go ahead, Quatre." Trowa gave me one of his promising smiles, and I smiled thankfully in return, maneuvering Sandrock down to the welcoming surface of the ground. I wouldn't have enough fuel left to fight, but hopefully I could either find some left from some Mobile Suit that hadn't been too badly damaged, or I could find a spot to hide until the fight was over.
I heard rather than saw the enemy Suit on my radar, and I knew it was too late for me to turn around and shoot it. My only chance was in close combat, so I pulled out my scimitars and tried to turn around. The cockpit suddenly went black though, and I knew that I had run out of fuel as I felt myself falling. Gratefully, I was close to the ground, and the only damage Sandrock got was a few twisted panels. I, however, had not fared so well. The jarring I had gotten from such a rough landing had thrown me forward, making me hit my head on the panel. I had my belt on, which had probably saved my life, but at that moment I could only wish it hadn't as pain exploded through my skull.
A sitting duck, I couldn't even communicate with the others. The enemy Suit was in my sights through the now blank window screens, which showed me the charred battlefield and the advancing enemy instead of the configuration maps and target settings they normally had. A feeling of helplessness crept up my spine as I lost sight of the enemy Suit, and it was followed by a rush of pain so bad I doubled over in the seat, howling. The console flickered to life by some unknown force, but I knew I couldn't move. All I could see was Trowa's face contorted in pain and covered in blood as Duo screamed.
"Quatre, Angel. Love you. Please, bless someone else with the love you have given me." Was all I could hear him whisper through the communications panel before his section of the screen abruptly went black. In dumbstruck awe, I looked out the main window in my little cockpit and, ignored the targeting systems, watched as HeavyArms fell within arm's reach, battered almost beyond recognition. It was my turn to scream as my console once again went black.
~~~~
"I- I didn't know." Duo whispers after I relate the entire story back to him. "Oh, God, I am so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Duo." I smile again, but this smile is full of self hatred and loathing. "It's mine."
"It's not your fault. He chose to save you. It was his choice." Heero tries to reassure me, but his words fall on deaf ears.
Suddenly wanting to change the topic, I pick the photo album up off my lap. There are a few pictures in here that I cherish more than the rest because they had been taken only days before Trowa had left me. Trowa himself had taken most of them, and developed them himself too. He told me that he didn't want anyone else seeing them, and up until now, I have kept his promise.
"I remember the time we made love in the roses." I start off, flipping through the pages of pictures to the very back. "I've never shown these to anyone, since he made me promise not to."
"You don't have to-"
"I do, Duo. These pictures were taken days before he-" My breath caught in my throat on the last word. It has been two years, and I still can't say it.
"All right." He sighs in defeat, knowing already that I won't give up on something I have my heart set on. I have always been like that, and I guess I always will.
"He took my picture in all sorts of poses." I whisper more to myself than the others, but I have a feeling they heard it too. Finally finding the pictures I want, I set the book open on my lap, unashamed of the pictures of he and I.
The picture were all taken in the same place. It's a garden of sorts, the one we have out back. We converted it into a rose garden, since I love roses. In the middle of our flowered yard, we have a gazebo that we painted a dark mahogany, and that was often where we had our tea on warm days. It's still there, and I keep the gardens looking perfect.
The first picture is one of me, wearing a light blue jacket against the warmth of the sun. Underneath, I'm wearing a white T-shirt and khakis. I look positively radiant, holding a cut rose up to smell it's beauty.
"You look happy." Duo says almost wistfully. My hair has grown since then, and I keep it back in a loose form of WuFei's tight hairstyle. I have my left ear pierced, and a hoop I always wear with a lion on it, for Trowa's sake. He had an earring just like this one. It sits in a little case, the same one I had bought it in. We were going to put it on him when we has to be buried, but Catherine refused. So, it sits in all protection in the little box on my nightstand.
"I haven't seen you that happy since before-" Heero stops. It seems he's having the same problem I was. He couldn't actually say Trowa is dead, either. I think we all hope he'll come back some day, since none of us had seen the corpse. Not that I wanted to, but it left that unfinished feeling, the little spark of hope that he could be wandering around with amnesia, like he had been the first time something like that had happened.
But for two years, I've been waiting. That little spark is waning.
"I haven't been that happy, Heero." I speak, my voice sounding soft, like it isn't really me speaking. "I won't ever be that happy until I see him again."
Without really talking about the picture, we continue to the next one. It's rather lewd, and these few are the ones that Trowa didn't want anyone else to see. I'm laying on the seat in the gazebo, wearing nothing but the rose I had been holding earlier. I have a totally angelic smile on my face, the exact opposite of the tight lipped smile I wear now. I have one hand reaching out as if beckoning, and the other one is up to my lips.
"Your smile is so beautiful." Duo smiles softly to himself. They don't seem to care that I'm not wearing anything in the picture. They see the picture for what it is, not something that was meant to be lewd and disgusting.
I flip the page to the next picture, which is one of Trowa. The picture is at an odd angle, as if the person holding it was laughing. I remember taking that picture. Trowa had done a strip tease for me, and the reason my hands were unsteady was not because of mirth, but because of need. Trowa had laid down on the floor of the open gazebo, wearing only a full fledged smile, something no one but I have ever seen. He had arranged himself so that there was nothing showing, but the mind can produce things that a picture could never capture.
"He's smiling." Heero whispers, his face almost radiating awe. None of the others have ever seen him smile so beautifully, and when I asked Trowa why, he had told me that 'I save it all for you. Only you make me smile like that.'
"I've never seen him smile." Duo adds. He too, is in awe. The picture is one of true art, even if it is a little lopsided. I close the book from there, since I've shown all I need to.
"I wish I could see him smile like that again." I say despondently. Once again, my eyes have filled with tears as a soft knock sounds at the door.
Duo gets up slowly, his sorrow turning into lethargy as mine had. Leaving Heero and I on the couch, he goes to answer the door.
"Maxwell." A voice I haven't heard in over a month states as WuFei walks in. "How are you guys doing?"
"I'm alive." Duo tells him, trying to lighten the mood. The emotion in the room is almost tangible, and WuFei noticed it as he came in.
"Are you sure?" He asks, his voice softer than I have heard in a long time. He has become very callous towards others, but to us he shows who he really is beneath the mask. I think it's the same for everyone in this room.
"We're as good as we can be, WuFei." Heero answers, his voice detached. I can still hear the sadness, though, or is that my imagination?
"Thinking about Trowa?" WuFei asks, breaking the silent tension in the room. None of us have said his name, as if under some unspoken agreement, and at the sound of it, a fresh well of tears starts from my eyes.
"Why?" I ask, the tears flowing freely. "Why did he have to die for me? Never pay the Reaper with love only. That's what he told me. And then he sacrifices himself for me. Why?"
No one answers, but I'm not really expecting them to. Heero and Duo have just learned what had happened, and WuFei had been there for me the first time. But even so, the only one who can answer that question is Trowa. My Trowa. My beloved. I still wear the ring he had given me, a gold band to match his. The inscription simply read 'My Angel', but it was enough. I knew I would never take that ring off again.
Not willing or ready to let the others see my tears, I get up from the couch, dumping the photo album unceremoniously on the floor, and bolt. I don't care where I'm going, I just want out of that room.
Not watching where I'm going, I trip over the set of three stairs that lead up to the gazebo in the back yard. I doubt that the others will follow me out here, letting me deal with this in my own way. I crawl up into the gazebo and curl into a fetal position as a bottle of pills rolls out of my pocket and onto the deck. I look at them for a moment, then realize that they are from before, when I had taken a few to cure a headache.
The vid phone rings once before Maxwell answers. I don't think I've ever seen him that jumpy before, but he's bound to be nervous. Winner hasn't come back in over an hour, and I'm not exactly sure where he fled to.
"Hello Winner/Barton residence. Quatre and Trowa aren't in at the moment, may I take a message?" Maxwell answers automatically before he can think. He pauses for a few moments, as does the person on the other end of the line. I presume that the person knows Winner well enough to have caught Maxwell's mistake, since whomever it is has had the decency to wait for Maxwell to correct himself.
When Maxwell doesn't decide to correct himself, the person finally begins a conversation. "I'm sorry, I must have called at a bad time." The accent is the same one that Winner shows every now and again, when he's nervous or tired. Once again, I presume that the person on the other end of the line is one of Winner's followers, the Maguanacs.
"No, it's all right. I can take a message." Maxwell shakes his head slightly.
"I was just wondering if Master Quatre has eaten anything yet today. The past few days when I've called to check up on him, he hasn't. He'll die of starvation if this continues." The voice states clearly. I blink. I never thought that Winner would ever sink to those depths.
"Yuy, I suppose we should go find him." I tell Maxwell's boyfriend, and he nods. If we're thinking along the same lines, we may be short on time. Winner may have descended to far to help if we don't hurry.
"Duo, stay here." Yuy tells the braided man, and Maxwell nods, still talking to the Maguanac. I believe his name is Rasid, but I'm not sure. I know that Maxwell is quite smart, and has probably figured out why we don't want him to come, but he never acts like the man he is supposed to be. I think that in itself shows that he is smarter than he seems.
Both Yuy and I get up from our respective seats, and he adjusts his ever present green tank top. Although he has traded in the awful spandex for black jeans, he never has changed the tank top. Sometimes I wonder if it's the same one he wore in the wars.
"Where do you think he went?" I ask as we head out the way Winner went. There are many possibilities, since there are three doors off the kitchen; one leads a short way down a hall to the bedroom, another leads to the basement, and the last leads out to the beautiful garden in the back.
"You try his room. I'll try outside. I don't think he's in the basement." Yuy thinks out logically, and I nod, heading down the hall. I've never been in this part of the house before, and it astounds me. It's as clean as the rest of the house normally is, but there's a slight difference. The front room and kitchen look pretty domestic, the way you would expect it to look with the Winner heir. But down this hall, pictures in dark frames reign.
Most of the pictures are of both Winner and Barton, but there are some from his youth. A picture of him and an older man, whom I presume to be his father, grace a small area beneath a large version of their first kiss, and I have half a heart to stop and look at it. Also, a picture of Barton's sister is there beside the one of Winner and his father. Shaking my head at what must have been years of memories for both of my friends, I continue down to his room.
'We were the Lucky Ones' graces the door in neat calligraphy. I never knew Winner had such a talent for art. He had never said anything about it. Knocking first and getting no answer, I slowly open the door. Careful not to scare him if he is in there, I poke my head through the door and draw in a sharp breath.
The room is as neat and tidy as the rest of the house, as is to be expected. The bed is made, the night clothes folded and peeking out from underneath the large, fluffy pillows. The room almost looks too small to hold the bed and dresser in it, but I believe it's because of everything on the walls.
The walls themselves look like a huge collage, made from drawn artwork. Some of it is just penciled in, and some of it is colored, giving the room an odd off color tone. The artwork is wonderfully done, and looks very realistic. The pictures range from silly clowns to Barton and Winner, and I doubt that any of it is very new. The pages are old and yellow, as if someone has been smoking in here, and a few of them are slowly pulling away from the wall.
Staring in awe at one picture of the deceased Trowa Barton, I wonder why Winner has hidden a talent such as this. He's a beautiful artist, and deserves credit for what he's done. On one wall are the pictures sure to be done by Barton, but they are just as good as the ones done by Winner, thought a bit more of a somber tone.
Tearing my eyes away from the artwork, I quickly look through the room to find it devoid of any occupants besides myself. I shut the door behind me as I leave, allowing myself a small smile at what I had seen as I make my way back out to the front room.
"Wu, Hee-chan found him." Maxwell says as I walk back into the main room, his voice wavering. I can only see the tops of Yuy's and Maxwell's head over the back of the couch, and I guess they're both sitting on the ground in front of it. But that doesn't tell me where Winner is.
I make my way around the couch slowly, my thoughts tossing and turning at the implications the scene suggests. I just hope that most of then aren't true.
It seems as if the world slows down as the full scene comes into view. Maxwell's holding a very pale Winner in his lap, fresh tears falling from his cheeks onto a still face below. Yuy's on his hands and knees, pounding the floor with his fist, tears flowing from his eyes as well. The first thing I notice is that Winner's chest isn't moving. He isn't breathing.
"WuFei, call nine-one-one." Yuy grinds out, and all I can do is nod silently. I walk around the couch again, as if the floor where Winner, Yuy, and Maxwell are is forbidden ground. Reaching the vid phone, I turn it on with a barely audible click and dial the number.
"Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?" A female voice answers the phone as her face appears on the vid. She looks somber and foreboding, and it feels almost as if she's staring right through me.
"I have a man down. I don't think he's breathing, and I'm not sure how long he's been out. At most, an hour. His name is Quatre. Do you need an address?" I report, my voice oddly calm. It's happening again. When Barton died, I had gone into recession, and hadn't talked for almost three months. Only Maxwell's persistence had brought me out of it. It's happening again.
"Do you know what happened?" The woman asks, staring at me as if it's my fault.
For this one, I have to look to Yuy. In response, he holds up a bottle of pills. "It looks like a pill overdose." I say. Again, I look to Yuy.
"Over half." He croaks, teas deforming his voice.
"Over half the bottle was taken, at most an hour ago."
"Why would he do something like that, do you know?" The operator asks.
I sigh regretfully. "It's the second anniversary of his husband's death." I respond. Right at the moment, I don't care if they had never really been married, even if it were possible. We had thought of them as such, and she's going to think so too, for now.
"The address?" She asks brusquely.
"Forty seven Barit Street." I respond almost automatically. We all know each others' addresses off by heart, since we're so close. It's almost like having three homes.
"Any family?" She asks, continuing the barrage of questions. I'm not sure if I can take it any more without breaking down.
"Yeah." Maxwell answers from behind me. "I can't name off all of his sisters, I know he has a lot of them, but I know Catherine."
"Catherine Bloom." I name off the only living relative of his I know. We all know Catherine from her frequent visits when Barton was still alive.
"Is that Quatre's last name?" She asks while writing down the information I've given her. I feel a little relieved that she's not staring through me.
I pause for a moment. "No, his last name is Barton. Maiden name Winner." I shift slightly. I just lied in the information according to law, but to all of us it's the truth.
"You're talking about Quatre Winner, the corporate leader of Winner foundation?" She asks sharply, he head snapping up.
Again, I pause. "Yes, the same."
"Please stay on the line. An ambulance is on it's way." She tells me, but her voice sounds far away. My job here is finished, and I suddenly feel the weight of sadness come crashing down on me. Quatre Winner, no, Quatre Barton, one of my good friends, one of my only friends, is dead. Laying on the floor behind me.
I turn from the operator, letting her think what she would. My eyes fall on the prone form of my friend, laying on the floor. He looks so pale, so lifeless. His eyes are shut, but even they look dead. Something inside of me realizes that in the past two years, they had looked dead then as well. Trowa's death has taken a toll on his frail frame. He looks thinner than I ever remember him, and his brow is creased with age that shouldn't be there.
But he has found a way out. He's found a way to join his lover. If not in this life, then in the next. "We are the Lucky Ones." I find myself repeating the calligraphy I had found on his door. It was true. He and Trowa had been the Lucky Ones. They had found love that persisted even in death. I smile, wishing him fortune in the next life.
The sirens outside get close enough to drown out anything else anyone might have said. Two men knock loudly on the door, and I go to answer it like a machine.
"Where-?" One of the men asks. I point to Quatre, laying on the floor. Both of them rush over to him, falling to their knees and shoving both Duo and Heero out of the way. Duo sinks into Heero's arms, turning his face into his shoulder to soak it with tears.
I sit by the doorway, the door still open, and watch as the two men work. I'm smiling like a maniac, singing to myself lyrics to a song Quatre had once played for me.
It was a Monday when my lover told me,
"Never pay the Reaper with love only"
What could I say to you except "I love you."
and "I'd give my life for yours."
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones, Dear.
The first time we made love I- I wasn't sober.
(And you told me you loved me over and over!)
How could I ever love another, when I miss you every day...
Remember the time we made love in the roses?
(And you took my picture in all sorts of poses!)
How could I ever get over you, when I'd give my life for yours.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones, Dear.
My dear,
It's time to say I tank God for you.
I thank God for you in each and every single way.
And I know... I know... I know... I know... its time
to let you know. Time to let you know. Time to sit here and say:
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones.
I know we are... we are the Luck Ones, Dear.
We are the Lucky Ones, Dear.
How can Wu smile like that? These two men look like they aren't going to be able to revive poor Quatre. Oh, God, why did you have to take him too? Why must everyone I love die? Why?
It's just not fair. First poor Tro, now Cat... I thought that no one was supposed to die, now that the wars are over. We made it through two wars, almost three without losing anyone. Now we're standing here, looking at Quatre's pale, dead face as two strangers try to give him something he hasn't felt in two years. Life.
Two years. You know, with Trowa dying on Quatre's birthday, we haven't celebrated Quatre's birthday in two years. This time, though, I know the perfect gift to give him. It's going to break my heart, but I think it's for the best. He had been living without life for two years... now his body's finally followed his soul.
"Stop." I almost whisper into Heero's shoulder. "Stop it."
"Stop what?" Heero asks softly, his voice a rough whisper. I've never seen him cry this much since...
I turn around, still encased in Heero's strong arms. I'm going to need his strength to give Quatre this last Birthday gift. "Stop torturing him. He's been dead for two years, let him go."
My voice sounds high pitched and whiny, the effect of the tears. I sniffle when the two men ignore me, then with a burst of courage and strength, I break out of Heero's grasp and hit one of them. It's not enough to hurt the poor man, he's only doing his job. But its enough to get him to listen.
"Stop. He's-" My voice cuts itself off as I try to say the last word. I had said it only moments ago, but it's harder now that I'm trying to say it to someone who won't understand.
In the silence, the haunting tune WuFei's humming reaches my ears. It seems so familiar, but I can't seem to place it. I've heard it before, but I can't remember it.
The man I had hit finally sighs in resignation, nodding to his partner as he packs away his tools of the trade and pulls out a body bag. I shudder.
"No. We'll take care of the body." I say. I'm the only one talking, breaking the silence. It feels like a physical barrier, it's so heavy, but what I'm saying needs to be done.
"The body needs to be examined." One of the men tells me, rolling out the bag.
I growl at him. No, it does not. He died of loneliness, his heart torn to shreds from losing the one he loved. He died from regret, knowing it should have been him to years ago. He died in happiness, now let him be."
The men turn to each other, obviously not sure what to do with the request. Finally, the one furthest from me nods, and he gets up to leave. "We'll notify he hospital." I have a feeling he knows what we're going through, and I thank him with a meaningful glance. The other one, still a little unsure as to what to do, rolls the body bag back up and puts it back into the large pack. They leave without another word, and for that, I think we're all thankful.
"What were you humming, WuFei?" Heero asks as he calmly shuts the door behind the two paramedics.
"Lucky Ones." He answers carefully. At our blank looks, he explains. "Do you remember the song that Quatre played at Trowa's funeral?"
It clicks, though it feels odd to hear WuFei call them by their first names. "Lucky Ones. It was so close to what had happened..." I trial off.
"I know." WuFei says forlornly. "I finally understand the meaning behind that song. They were truly lucky to have found the love they had, one that lasted beyond life and into death." He comes over and kisses his fingers, placing them on Quatre's cheek. "When Trowa died, Quatre died. His body finally chose to follow."
Heero comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his cheek on my shoulder. I can feel the tears soak through my shirt, but I don't care. I think I've finally understood the meaning behind that song too.
"I know we are the Lucky Ones." Heero whispers from behind me. I nod. We are. I know Quatre's birthday won't be such a sad occasion anymore. He has finally found his way to Love.