Gundam Wing- It's in there, just keep reading…

Pairings – Unannounced

Warnings – Not totally sure where I got this idea, and I just ran with it. Language. Blood 'n' gore innuendos and somebody being drugged…Randomness on the main character's part.

Disclaimer- I don't own Gundam Wing. I only own the plot line, Dr. Danvers, the woman, and "I"

Damn it. Why am I here again? I'm not crazy. I half expect to see that long brown braid as those infernal double doors slide open once again. I swear they laugh at me every time I walk through them. I'm not crazy. I know I see them, they follow me around…no, not the doors, who was it? Oh, them…Well, the blond does. He smiles weekly as I turn around again to stare at him. The other four, they tend to pop up at random moments.

The woman with me grabbed my wrist and spun me back around in the right direction. "Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want to get something to eat after we talk the Dr. Danvers?" A song I had just heard on the radio rose to play in my head. The woman sighed at my silence and pushed the call button for the elevator.

Oh, that's why I'm here. I stopped talking. Well then.

The woman pulled me out of the elevator before I had a chance to finish counting all of the dots on the wall. Why does that always happen? By the time I get back to the elevator, I won't remember where I left off. Damn.

Ah, the esteemed Dr. Danvers - or his office at least. I don't like this place, every thing's too happy. I briefly wonder if the sectary's face ever hurts from plastering that fake looking grin on her face, then I'm reminded of that braided baka. Hm, that annoyed me. Braided idiot. Or fool…fool worked. Fool, that was the last word I read in my book. Hey! Where's my book? Ugh, I was forced to leave it a home. Damn.

Oh, there's Danvers. Good, the woman is distracting him. The woman…who's she? I watch as the she gives the doctor the stack of stapled papers and the sketch book she had been carrying since we left the car. Then she left. Wow, she's such a wonderful mother, leaving me with this…oh, that's who she is. I almost forgot about her. Good thing I remembered. Help me, I'm drowning in sarcasm.

Dr. Danvers looks through the sketch book searching for the new drawings. Humph, the least he could do is ask. A song floats into my head again. "Sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree? Travel the world and the seven seas, everybody's looking for something. Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to be used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused." Marilyn Manson version…

When Dr. Danvers gave me back my sketch book, I took a pencil and sat down in the one chair in the room where I could see all exits. With the song still in mind, I started to draw, using the lyrics as a border. When I finished it, I looked up. Dr. Danvers was finished reading the papers the woman had given him, and he was watching me. I turned the sketch book towards him, and showed him the pencil sketch. He winced. I looked down at it. Hm, yes slightly disturbing, but nothing compared to some of the other drawings in the book I had hidden in the… My head turns toward the blond I had almost forgotten. He'd just love for me to give up that secret.

"I finished reading the instant messenger archive from the last two weeks."

Hm, I really need to find that notebook….what? Oh, it's talking again…

"These logs show that you're sane enough to carry out an intelligent conversation with your friend. He also has some very interesting things to say to me when you told him I was reading these."

Well yeah! It's kinda rude to read someone's private conversations.

"Now the puzzle is to figure out why you just won't speak. I'm supposed to find out if you actually have a speaking disorder, just refuse to speak, or you can no longer utter a sound. To do that, I need to know some of your thoughts, but that's incredibly difficult to accomplish through a few drawings and the conversations with your friend."

You know, for a guy trying to help someone speak again, he doesn't give much opportunity for the other to take him up on the lull in conversation. Not that I'd be doing so anytime soon…now stop that!

I glared at the blond-but it's wasn't the blond, it was the brunet with the long braid. He was laughing. Damn it all, why do they have to keep switching? And now jabber gob's noticed him. Or me looking at him anyways. Why can't anyone else see my annoying tag-along-people-things?

"Ah yes, your…friend." If he says imaginary, I am so out of here. "Could you draw me a picture of what he looks like?" HE? There's five of 'em! Oh well, no explaining that one to him.

I opened my sketch book and flipped through a few pages. Finding the right one, I showed Dr. Danvers the picture I had drawn of the blond. Underneath his picture was his name. Quatre.

Dr. Danvers looked at me, "How do you say this?" I grabbed a sheet of paper off of his desk and wrote down 'Cat-tra' and gave it to him.

Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask…."So this is the guy following you around?" Damn, he asked. I shook my head, took back the sketch book and flipped to another picture.

"Duo?" His eye brows rise. "So, are they the same person, or are there two?" I shake my head again and flip to another page. "Five! Five different ones?"

I nodded wearily and flopped onto the office couch. Sighing through my nose, I laid my forearm across my eyes.

- -

I don't exactly remember why I couldn't talk anymore. I just stopped. All I know is, a nightmare woke me up, and as I tried to scream, my throat closed, and nothing came out. It was frustrating trying to tell everyone, they just assumed I willingly chose to stop communicating with the human race. Hah, willingly my ass. Then I noticed the followers. No one else did of course. Just my luck, I get five dysfunctional guardian angel wannabes that nobody notices, and said nobodies assume the next word out of my mouth is 'quack' and I'll start waddling around.

I. Am. Not. Crazy.

Well, that's what I thought, until I ventured out of the house on day. Then my train of thought derailed, the tracks went bye-bye, and the conductor was hog-tied and thrown out of the engine. At first, I simply couldn't remember things. Where I'd left something, what I had eaten for breakfast, the woman who had made said breakfast… After a bit of concentrating, I remembered these things. A little later on, my one-track mind split off like a rodent's family tree. I found I had to close my eyes, or concentrate on a simple thing, a button, or drawing something, to put all the little mice back in the box of my mind where they belonged.

I think it was the inability to get what was in my head out. I was always one to speak my mind, and I can't count all the times my frankness pissed people off. It probably did drive me up the wall now that I think about it.

Life as I knew it screeched to and unwavering and final stop. I became a…well, even more reclusive, not even going out to anywhere. I ended up just staring at the walls most of the time. Contemplating why everyone was avoiding me. I had told everyone long ago that I had no sanity left, and when I finally did lose it, they left. Too awkward to be around me I guess…

Finally, I was introduced to Danvers. He helped, a little, for all my stubbornness. He was the one who started the sketchbook. I had missed drawing; no one had wanted to give me the option of having a sharp, pointy pencil at my disposal. As if I would waste it by throwing it at someone, it might break the lead!

Eventually, I got back online, and was able to talk to the one person who didn't mind I was slightly off my rocker. We talked, I got better. Between the every other week visit with Danvers, and daily talks with my buddy, I got better.

I still saw the followers, though.

- -

I didn't know where I was. That scared me. I hurt from where I'd landed. From where I…Dark room, dark room, dark room. How do I get out of here. There's no light. Light, light…A flash light! My fingers roamed over the cool metal, looking for the on switch. I didn't find it. My hand jerked back. Not a flashlight. Gun.

Trigger, fire, bullet, boom. Only one reason why a weapon would be left on the ground…the guy who owns it is lying next to it…

Images of what might be in the room invade my mind as I draw my knees up to my chest. I laid my head down on them. A nervous and slightly manic giggle escaped me, and my brain seemed fuzzy. Fuzz……y. Fuzz-fuzz.

A door slid open somewhere and light flooded into the room. I didn't look up. Wait, since when did doors slide open? I looked up. It was all blurry. I brought my hand clumsily to my face to shield my eyes. It bumped my glasses then flopped uselessly back down, hitting the floor. The bright light dimmed to grey, slowly growing darker, until, cool blackness took over.

--

"Ngh"…that hurts. Where the FUCK is my pillow. The least I could do is pass out somewhere comfy. Now I had a headache worthy of a booze hound's first AA meeting and I'm cranky. My hand searched around for my pillow. I found a boot. Shit.

The toe of the boot nudged my hand lightly. "Are you awake?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Hm, quite the mouth on you. I thought young woman were supposed to have good manners."

I rolled away from the boot and curled back up.

Mr. Bootsy left. I was alone again. Damn, my head hurt.

--

I woke up. I can't believe I had been able to fall asleep. The headache was gone, but I was still cranky. I let the world know it. I yelled, screamed, and cursed anything and everything. When I ran out of new things to say, I repeated everything, twice over again.

I only stopped because my voice gave out. Then I wedged myself in the corner and waited.

The door slid open.

"Are you done?" Great, Mr. Bootsy was back.

Now that I could see clearly I looked at my booted tormentor. Bootsy was a tall young man with long blond hair.

Mr. Bootsy…Was Zechs.

Well, shit.

A/N: Like I said, I don't know where I got this idea. I've got the second and last part planned, but, unless anyone's interested, it probably won't make it to ff.n (and in no way am I bribing anyone.)

Thanks to my beta-person, Ash-kun.