For Amy. Sorry it's not rated higher.
Gunshots rang everywhere, making it impossible to hear anything else; smoke covered the grounds, fogging Quatre's vision. The petite blond suddenly felt a surge of guilt for dragging Heero into this suicide mission. He had found out about the enemy's 'special weapon' through excessive research; breaking in and destroying it was easy; getting out would be impossible. The infiltration had to be both top secret and surreptitious; thus, Quatre had asked Heero to help him, forgetting to mention the small detail of the certain death that faced both of them. As much as he liked Duo, Quatre knew that the American's big mouth could not be trusted, and Wufei was never even considered because of his beliefs; the Chinese man would never for something as unjustifiable as sneaking into enemy territory. And Trowa… well, maybe it was selfish on his part, but Quatre couldn't bear hurting Trowa. In the end, he didn't want to do this alone, so the young Arabian man suggested his plan to Heero. Not only could Heero be trusted, but the fearless man would also go along with the plan without question.
Ducking behind a wall, Quatre cursed the building for its tight security. They had been able to successfully destroy the weapon in question, but Quatre felt no pride in their deed. Saving countless civilian lives was important, but the prospect of loosing his own – and being fully responsible for the loss of Heero's – was anything but pleasant.
A hand reached out of the smoke, and Quatre felt the gun in his hand slip out as he found himself dragged into a dark room. So this was the end? As the door to the room closed behind him, leaving the blond and his abductor enshrouded in darkness, a picture of Trowa flashed into mind. I don't want to die like this… he thought, shaking uncontrollably.
There was an eerie silence, and then, a dim light flickered on. "I knew about your plan," a familiar voice called out from behind.
Too relieved to comprehend his partner's words, Quatre turned towards the source of the voice. "Heero!" But instead of attaining the solace he was seeking for, Quatre found himself face-to-face with the unforgiving head of a gun.
"I'm not gullible, Quatre." Heero's voice was cold and smooth, not unlike the gun he was holding. "I already knew about the weapon and its dangers before you told me." There was a pause, and to Quatre's surprise, Heero's voice began to soften. "I would've come by myself if you hadn't come to me. I wanted to tell you that, so there'd be no guilt." With a swift motion, Heero turned the gun so that the handle was pointed in Quatre's direction instead.
Still shaking, Quatre reached out for the gun in front of him; instead of taking the metal cylinder, however, he allowed his hand to stay pressed up against Heero's. "I…" his words came out in a barely audible whisper. "I'm scared."
The silence in the dimly lit room hung over them, overpowering the noises outside. And then, as if a dam had collapsed, Quatre's next words rushed out, "I don't want to die like this."
For a second, it seemed that the emotionless mask over Heero's face wavered. He withdrew his hand from Quatre's grasp and the gun clattered to the floor; the sound seemed to bounce off the walls, creating an eco that neither seemed to hear.
"I don't either." The words barely escaped Heero's lips, but Quatre had caught it. Wordlessly, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the brunet's body.
Heero was trembling.
Slowly, the Perfect Soldier brought his hands around Quatre, closing the gap between them.
Perhaps death wasn't so bad after all.