Sorry about the rather morbid topic. I think I've been thinking too much. My last statement is proof of that. I'm normally a much more light-hearted person.

If you're going to die in five years, my sympathies are with you. The doctors say I might. This fic is just… Quatre thinking a few of my thoughts.

The title is from the poem Quatre reads, "If" by Rudyard Kipling.

The Unforgiving Minute

Duo tapped lightly on the door. The reply from inside was quiet, as if the owner of the voice was terribly tired and worn down. He opened the door quietly to find Quatre sitting at his desk, writing something in a small notebook from the screen of his laptop. He smiled at Duo as he entered, and said softly, "Just give me a minute."

Duo waited, watching him. He hadn't changed much since the wars, he reflected. Quatre's blond hair was still in the same orderly style, his fringe falling into blue eyes that held the same old sparkle. His smile seemed slightly different, a little matured, a little softer, perhaps.

He put his pen down and smiled at his friend, standing up, "Why have you come, Duo? You're welcome, of course, I just wondered…"

The violet-blue eyes took in his body, the few inches he had gained, the wider shoulders, and smiled. He rushed across the space between them and caught his friend in a tight embrace. "I saw the news."

"Oh." Quatre said eloquently, lost for words as he rarely was. He searched Duo's face with a warm look in his eyes. "You believed the news? You always used to be so cynical about it."

Duo shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't let them say anything that wasn't true about you. You hate lies and those who tell them. Quatre, isn't there anything that can be done? You're the richest man in the whole of the Earthsphere, surely there's something…"

Quatre shook his head and turned to look out of the window, "No, Duo. I'm dying, there's nothing that can be done. They told me I've been dying since I was a tiny child. I was weak, then, and my father found out I was going to die, and he denied it, as you have. That's the reason I had everything I wanted, why I was never taught how to fight. My father was trying to keep me safe."

"It doesn't excuse the things he said or did." Duo muttered. Then his mind was back on what Quatre had said. "What are you going to do?"

There was a bittersweet smile on Quatre's lips as he turned to Duo. "I'm going to live as much as I can, right up to the day of my death. I'm going to fill every last moment with life."

Duo's eyes swam with what looked suspiciously like tears, "Quat…"

"I'm glad you came." He said softly, "Do you want to go out for a drink or something? I've finished what I was doing, and it's something I've never really done. I might as well try it now."

Quatre was sat in his back garden enjoying the sunshine when Trowa arrived. The tall man stood there looking down at Quatre for a long time, pondering what he had seen on the news and what he had heard from Duo in his mind. Finally, he cleared his throat softly and Quatre turned to face him.

"Ah, you're here now." The blond said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. Trowa nodded, and Quatre stood up to embrace him warmly. "I'm glad you came. Did Duo tell you all about it?"

"Yes," Trowa replied.

The two were so close there was little need for more talking. You may wonder why Trowa did not scold Quatre for not telling him sooner, but the truth to that is simple. He did not expect Quatre to share everything with him, as he did not share everything with Quatre, he was just glad he knew now and could help Quatre through some of his last days.

After two days spent together, Quatre brought up the question of visiting Catherine and the circus at breakfast.

"If we visited the circus, would you introduce me to the lions?" He asked, thoughtfully. And then, with a laugh, he added, "And would you teach me how to juggle? I've always wanted to learn, and there's no better time than right now."

Trowa shot him a look and gave a small chuckle, "It's not as easy as it looks. But you're right; it's a good idea. When do you want to go?"

Quatre smiled slightly, "You've changed, Trowa. Back when we first met, you'd not have wanted me near Catherine. We've all changed, though, I guess."

The brown haired man shrugged, "Catherine's a married woman, and I've become a little less of the protective big brother figure. I think I owe you this, before… before there isn't another chance, just for some time at the circus. When do you want to go?"

"There's no better time than right now," Quatre reminded him, "I can be ready in five minutes, practically, can you?"

And so Trowa and Quatre spent time together. They went to the circus and spent time talking, talking about their experiences of and since the wars, about Catherine and her husband, about the other pilots, teaching Quatre to juggle and spending time sat in the cage with the lions. Quatre enjoyed every moment of it, recognising it all as precious time not being wasted.

Wufei was next to arrive. He did not embrace Quatre, nor did he spend time dithering around the issue or accusing him. He simply stated, in a gruff way, that he wished things were not so.

"Don't worry about it, Wufei. I'm resigned to this, I always have known. I'm just honoured that you would come to see me when you heard, I wasn't expecting it." Quatre told him warmly. "Tell me, do you have a home in China at the moment?"

Wufei arched an eyebrow, "Have you ever been to China?"

"No, that's why I'm asking." Quatre smiled at him, "I have been most places, but China is one place I haven't been. I want to see as many things as I can, and live every moment of my life. That's the lesson I've learnt."

"You've learnt it well." Wufei said stiffly, "Yes, I do have a home in China and you're welcome to return with me for a visit."

Now Quatre embraced him, and Wufei hugged him back, the slightest hint of moisture in his eyes as Quatre thanked him again and again. "Stop thanking me, Winner." He said in an embarrassed tone, "If it's all I can do, I'm glad to do it."

And so Quatre spent a week with Wufei. In that week, he asked Wufei to teach him about Chinese customs, and take him to some of the great sights of China. He also asked him to help him to meditate, and they spent a few evenings talking about philosophy and the great philosophers they had both studied under their childhood tutors.

At the end of a week, Quatre took his leave and returned to his home, where he continued to try things he had not done before.

Quatre was expecting Heero to arrive. He even estimated when it would be, down to the general date and the time of day. Indeed, Heero arrived at mid morning on a Monday. He knocked on the door and entered without waiting for permission.

"I've seen the news." He said, bluntly, before Quatre could speak. He took a step towards him, "I'm… sorry."

"Don't be, it's not your fault." Quatre said gently. "Why have you come?"

"I saw the news - " Heero began with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"No, I mean… why?"

Heero sighed and moved forward to hug the other man tightly. They were the same height, and Quatre's light blue eyes looked carefully into intense cobalt blue eyes as he waited for Heero's answer.

"It's not fair that you should die. You're too good, you've been through too much, you're not ready to die…"

Quatre touched his finger to Heero's lips and silenced him softly. "I am ready to die. I have accepted my own death, not because I want to die but because I know I have lived. I have nothing to fear from death, I will be happy then. I've accepted everything that has come to me in life, so I can accept my death."

"I have not accepted your death. There are so many things…" Heero stopped, confused, and finally continued in a very soft voice. "There are things I wish I had time to tell you, feelings I wish I had time to explore. I was going to come to you in the end, when I knew more about it, but when I saw the news…"

Quatre waited. His eyes were tender, and he didn't seem uneasy even though Heero still had his arms around his waist. After a long moment, Heero broke away from Quatre's gaze, leaning down to bury his head in Quatre's shoulder. "I wanted to tell you that I loved you."

"You just have," Quatre told him softly, "And I knew - or I guessed." He separated from Heero gently and walked towards his desk. Heero followed him, not wanting to leave his side, wanting to protect him and be with him every last moment of his life.

"You know, I was desperate when I first realised how close I was to death. But I've been coming to terms with it, gradually, and now I am at peace with it." His voice was as gentle as his actions as he pulled Heero down close to him, stroking his hair. Heero surrendered to the touches, feeling relief at being with Quatre, even though up to the very moment he had said it he hadn't known what he would say. He was almost surprised that Quatre should be being the stronger, dominant one.

"You've probably heard from the others that I've been doing all sorts of things I've never done before, just to experience them. If I read you a bit of one of my father's favourite poems, maybe you'll understand." Quatre reached for the small notebook he had been writing in when Duo had arrived weeks before. He cleared his throat, and Heero slid into the other seat, watching Quatre's face, thinking how calm and reassuring it was despite the man's fate.

"This is just a tiny extract… 'If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that's in it, and - which is more - you'll be a man, my son'." Quatre stopped reading and looked up. He fixed his eyes on Heero's, his mouth solemn, and began to speak again, "That was the last four lines of a poem called 'if', by Rudyard Kipling. They seem to say to me that… if I can fill every last moment of my life with experiences worth knowing, then I'll have won. Life or death won't mean anything to me except something new to be experienced."

Heero didn't quite understand, but looking into Quatre's eyes, he felt as if he would, in time.

Quatre got out of his chair and walked towards Heero, crouching down beside him, "There are a few things I hadn't done until recently, and there are a few things I still want to do. One was to fall in love, but I think I've achieved that. One is to be kissed; I've never been kissed before and I will only kiss the one I love. And another… leads on from kissing. If I can experience those with the one I love, then I'll accept my death and die happy."

Heero didn't show any signs of alarm at the not so subtle hint, so Quatre shut his eyes and leaned forward. Gently, he pressed his lips to Heero's and was pleased as Heero kissed back, reaching up his arms to wrap around Quatre's neck and pull him closer. There was the strength from years of longing in his tight embrace.

"I'll help you experience everything, Quatre." Heero promised, his voice low with emotion.

"I want to fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds of purely you, Heero." Quatre whispered as he surrendered to his feelings and pulled Heero out of his chair, into his arms, into his bed.

Heero woke with the knowledge that Quatre was gone. It was something he had sensed in his sleep, and the feeling of deep loss had woken him. As he looked at Quatre's serene face, he thought he understood.

Quatre had lived every moment of his life, filling every sixty seconds with new experiences to enjoy. It didn't matter that he was dying, it had simply taught him the value of life. Heero wondered if he would be able to accept his own death with the same feelings.