a/n: Just some random gap-filler that has been sitting on my hard drive unfinished for months now. I don't know exactly how this turned out, so... yeah.
Title: Tainted Sand
Author: Keithan
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to their respective owners.
Rating: PG-13 / T
Series: One-shot but same timeline as This Race We Run & In a Journey's Spire
Warnings: None
Pairings: None - 1+4 friendship (but yeah, I'm setting up a future 1x4 here. :P)
Summary: He looks at the sand, and it is much darker where the water reaches it as the wind blows the waves on the shore, and he wonders, will his tears taint it in the same way?
Notes: Heero and Quatre-centric since this is somewhat a gap-filler which takes place after they escaped to Earth from the Moon Base and after the whole incident with Zero.
"I tried to kill the pain
But only brought more
I lay dying
And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal
I'm dying praying bleeding and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved
Am I too lost?"
Evanescence, Tourniquet
(I claim no authorship or ownership of the words quoted above nor do I consider them a part of the fic. They merely serve as an inspiration when I began writing.)
-o-o-o-
Tainted Sand
by Keithan
-o-o-o-
The darkness was overwhelming.
He wondered where he was. In his hazy mind, he thought of the strong possibility that he was dead, and he almost laughed. It certainly took death long enough if he was. But he knew he was not, and with such acknowledgement, his senses seemed to awaken.
Sounds started to enter his ears in an almost soft echo, yet he remained unmoving, feigning to be unconscious even as awareness slowly started to seep through him. He tried to reach out with his senses, tried to feel if danger was near, but when enough consciousness had filled him, he immediately knew he was safe. Although, there was something terribly out of place...
I am being held.
He felt his body being cradled protectively as the last remnants of oblivion entirely slipped from him, leaving him awake and fully alert. It was only with his trained nature that he prevented himself from suddenly jerking away. He did not want to give away the state of his consciousness when he had yet to fully survey his surroundings. But he felt no immediate danger. The arms cradling him were gentle yet protective, and he somehow felt at ease.
But he did not let any of it lull him into a false sense of security. Something was wrong. It was as though he could feel tension in their surroundings. Slowly, he opened his eyes, enough for him to see but not enough for others to tell he was awake. What he saw was not wholly unfamiliar.
And yet again, I find myself in your arms.
Pilot 04, Quatre Raberba Winner, held him to his chest closely, one hand having a gun at a ready. They were on the forest floor, and the blonde pilot was looking around, eyes hardened into readiness.
They were back on Earth. He almost laughed.
Twice now, twice now have I found you upon waking up.
And twice now did he lose consciousness in front of this certain Gundam pilot.
There is something terribly wrong with this scenario.
It was not the first time that he had found himself in such situation with the once out of control pilot of Wing Zero. But he had no time for idle thoughts. It was time for him to rouse as they obviously weren't in a safe zone. He was just about to open his eyes fully when Quatre turned to him.
"You're all right," the other pilot said, even before his eyes opened. The relief was evident in his tone, as well as in his face, and yet...
There is sadness in your eyes.
He merely grunted, as he slowly pushed himself upright, waiting for any dizziness to come just as Quatre had an arm ready to steady him if there was any. When there was none, he immediately reached for a gun that was not there.
"Here," the blonde pilot said as he held up another gun he retrieved from his back. "Come." Quatre stood up and gestured for him to follow. "There are soldiers about."
"How long?"
"A few days have passed since I killed Trowa. Two days since we escaped from the Moon Base," Quatre replied, voice completely even... too even. He frowned slightly at the Sandrock pilot. "Our location's been compromised. They had us tagged the moment we entered the atmosphere."
Almost instinctively, he reached out, catching the Arab's wrist in a light grip before he could fully turn. Their eyes met, but Quatre looked away. "I'm all right, Heero," the other pilot said, as though he asked. But surprisingly, he found himself letting go, silently accepting the words.
-o-o-o-
Quatre ducked and brought his knee to his opponent's stomach in a hard blow. The man doubled over and spit flew out of his open mouth. The blonde pilot then raised his arm immediately and pummeled the butt of his gun to the back of the soldier's neck. He braced his body to prepare for any other incoming attacks, but his opponent dropped unconscious on his feet, and there were no more nearby. He nodded once, satisfied. Quatre looked up, eyes immediately searching for Heero.
The Wing pilot hadn't seemed to be overly surprised with the fact that he fainted on the moon and woke up on Earth. Quatre had only watched as the other pilot merely looked around, taking in the fact that they were no longer in the oxygen-starved environment of space, before turning a somewhat questioning glance at him for answers to their whereabouts.
Quatre found Heero just as he was delivering a swift kick to the soldier he was dealing with, and soon, that soldier too dropped unconscious. The brunette looked around him, obviously doing a body count.
All five were down.
"We are still too near to where we landed," Quatre said.
Heero nodded before kneeling down beside a fallen soldier. He took the moment to check their uniforms. "These are not Romafeller's," he informed Quatre.
"Then we have a chance, slim though it may be." The Foundation wanted them dead and had issued several execution warrants for all of them.
Except, perhaps, for Trowa.
Quatre raised a hand to his chest as the weight on his heart became almost too heavy. He then pursed his lips into a thin line at the thought of the missing pilot and soon pushed it to the back of his mind, ignoring the emotions that threatened to overflow. It was easy to do since he was already on the mindset of the task at hand, and he could not afford to falter in any way. He was not alone, and no matter how much he and Heero could work well individually, they were together now. He didn't want his distraction to endanger them both.
He looked around then, trying to decide the best place to go. Heero didn't comment on his momentary lapse in attention and was already surveying their options. It seemed useless, though, as every direction appeared the same. They looked at each other and both of them seemed to agree on this.
"Here," Heero said. He just nodded in response, before following Heero's lead to the path that twisted out from the direct and opposite route that would take them away from where they landed.
Neither of them spoke and both already had their guns ready. Troops scouted the area, and they needed to get as far away from where they crashed as they could without getting caught.
They had already been spotted not long after they entered the Earth's atmosphere. Unfortunately, their ungraceful landing had just brought more undue attention to their whereabouts. There had been a problem with their shuttle. But Quatre had managed to maneuver them into as safe landing as possible. Crashing had been inevitable though, but he was able to land it in a way that the crash and impact would be harmless to them.
They had run a short distance when Quatre's forehead furrowed. "Heero," he whispered, just as Heero was already slowing down to a stop. Both of them looked around.
There was a soft rustle to their left and both of them turned to the direction, guns raised. Neither of them fired, however, as they knew the gunshots would certainly give away their location. Not soon after, four soldiers emerged from hiding, guns also pointed at them.
"Stop right there."
Quatre nearly cursed. The soldiers had the advantage of knowing the terrain more than they did. Their enemies probably had the whole area well-covered.
"Drop them," one of the men said, motioning to their weapons. Quatre assumed he was the commanding officer.
He and Heero looked at each other. They were too far to attempt any disarming in the form of a hand-to-hand combat, and four against two firearms weren't promising. Silently deciding that they had no choice for the moment, they both dropped their guns to the ground, just near their feet. Quatre knew they wouldn't be staying there for long anyway, as he saw Heero already looking around for a way of escape.
It would have been easier if they were caught alone. As such, each had the other to think about, and he knew both of them were trying to be cautious enough not to act too hastily, in which the other might not be able to read or follow any brash actions that would have worked when alone.
One of the three started to grab a radio from a vest pocket.
Quatre frowned. Not good.
His eyes immediately surveyed their surroundings as well. They had four guns ? three hand-held and one strapped to a soldier ? pointed at them and that was their clear disadvantage. They were more than just a few feet away; any try at to disarm their adversaries without any projectile weapons would not be faster than the bullets that would be fired at any sudden movements. His eyes landed on a fallen tree branch just beside his feet, and his forehead creased slightly in thought. It was large enough, but not too much, he thought. It would be enough to cover the distance between them and their would-be captors and provide ample distraction that would hopefully give them enough time to get their guns as well.
There's just a problem of getting it from point A to point B.
He looked up and saw Heero eyeing the same branch. The Wing pilot met his gaze and he merely nodded, barely noticeable.
"Tell them we have two rebels," the leader spoke again, giving a glance to the man with the radio. "We will head now..."
Quatre didn't hear the rest as Heero gave him a sharp glance, and with a swift and hard kick, he sent the branch high into the air. He ducked low to the ground immediately after and rolled out of the way, grabbing his gun in the process.
At the same time, Heero jumped up, just as three of the men already started firing where their captives should have been standing. He kicked the flying branch to their enemies' direction. It hit two of them hard in the face.
Quatre rolled into a kneeling position, gun raised and he fired immediately at the aiming hand of the radio man who was just ready to fire at him. The soldier cried out and his gun dropped from his injured hand. "Heero!" he called out as he stood, wanting to know his companion's status.
The other pilot had already retrieved his gun and just as Quatre turned to him, Heero fired a warning shot beside a man on the ground who tried to reach for his fallen weapon.
It was over as soon as it had begun. Seeing that they had everything under control, both of them then walked closer, guns trained on the four soldiers. Two of which, those unlucky enough to be the receiving end of Heero's branch, were on the ground. The radio man was holding his grazed hand to his chest, eyeing Quatre warily. Only one of them was still holding a weapon.
"Drop it," Heero said, as he kicked the fallen radio away from them.
Quatre glanced down as the bright red color of blood caught his eye. "You're bleeding," he stated, his gun still steady. The blood came from Heero's left thigh, but Quatre could see it was not a serious wound with the little amount of the red liquid that came from it. A swift glance to a man whose slight movements caught his notice was enough warning that told the four soldiers that his attention had never wavered from them even as he checked on his companion. He walked towards the soldiers and kicked the guns away from them.
Heero's eyes flicked downwards. "I hadn't noticed," he said, before walking towards the nearest man. He delivered a swift blow behind the ear with enough force to render the other unconscious but not enough to kill.
Quatre merely shook his head, noting to himself that when they had placed enough distance between them and their current location, he'd check on the other's wound. His gun was still raised to cover Heero as the other pilot contained the four soldiers. They had no time to tie them and to leave them unconscious was their only choice.
-o-o-o-
They were trapped.
Their little victories were short-lived. He knew the possibility of escape at the moment was almost next to none. They left the four men unconscious and started to head off to a different direction. The sound of the guns and shouting, he was sure, had not gone unnoticed. But it seemed that they had no place to go. They couldn't possibly breeze through their escape each and every time they'd encounter groups of soldiers. They were bound to be caught sooner or later.
He looked at Quatre. The blonde had a grave look on his face, forehead furrowed in concentration, and eyes hard as he surveyed the surroundings. And yet...
You are crying.
"Do you sense anything?" Quatre asked.
I sense your tears.
"This forest is heavily guarded," he answered, turning his eyes ahead again.
"I thought as much," the other pilot answered. "We are probably near their base of operation."
Your voice never wavers. Your steps never falter. Does your strength never wane?
"You could have chosen a better landing place."
He heard the blonde almost snort. He almost did himself.
"As if I had a choice."
Yes, you had no choice, Quatre. You weren't yourself.
-o-o-o-
Quatre raised the gun in front of him, careful in making his steps soundless despite the scattered twigs and undergrowth. He looked around, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Beside him, Heero did the same. In the distance, they could hear the sure footfalls of scouting troops and the barking of search dogs. They were still a good distance away, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.
They were surrounded, and they knew it. There was no way they could escape. All escape routes would be blocked. If not, the dogs would be able to pick up their scent. The area was well-covered and it was only a matter of time. Quatre looked at his companion, his eyes unnecessarily telling the other of their trapped situation.
Heero nodded, silently saying that he knew, and there was indeed nothing they could do.
"We're surrounded," Quatre said softly, finally giving voice to their predicament. He lowered his weapon.
Heero grunted in response, leaning against a tree. "If we try to force our escape, we would be killed. If we were captured..."
"We will have a much better chance of escape for a later time," Quatre continued, nodding once. "Either way, we can't escape the possibility of death. With execution warrants out for us..."
He was cut off by the sound of barking dogs not far from where they were. Both of their heads snapped to the direction. Troops were nearing the area. Heero lowered his gun as well. Quatre looked at him, waiting for his decision.
"For now, we bid our time," Heero said, looking at his gun as if wondering if he could hide it with their capture. Knowing that he could not, he tossed it aside, not bothering to be quiet about it.
Quatre nodded, eyes staring at the discarded weapon, as though he was not seeing it. Then he blinked, remembering something. "Your wound," he said, and before Heero could say anything, Quatre knelt down in front of him and produced a white handkerchief from his pocket.
"Leave it," Heero merely said.
Quatre frowned, looking up, and the heaviness in his heart had made itself known once more as he remembered their face-off in Wing Zero and Mercurius in space and the way he had to care for the Wing pilot in an almost similar fashion. He looked away as soon as he met Heero's calm gaze. He started to inspect the wound instead. "I had already let people down before by turning against everything that I believed in," he said softly, and he realized just how much he needed to let it ? his guilt, grief... everything ? out. But he also knew he could not. "Do not ask me to do it again."
Heero didn't say anything in response and Quatre took that as a sign that he could continue. Just as he was tying the knot on the improvised bandage, the barking of the dogs sounded just a few feet away.
"I was going to kill you," Heero suddenly said, his voice devoid of any inflection.
Quatre didn't skip a heartbeat when he answered, "I almost wish you had."
Their eyes met for a moment, before both turned to the direction of where their captors would come from.
Quatre suddenly felt trapped.
Trapped like some hunter's prey.
A thought came unbidden to his mind.
Did you feel trapped, Father? Did you feel like you had no where to go? Did you feel you had no other choice?
And yet another thought followed it...
Did you feel trapped, Trowa? Did you feel trapped within Vayeate when it was near to exploding?
"Quatre."
Quatre looked up, meeting Heero's searching gaze. For a moment, he was afraid that his eyes betrayed him, but seeing the other's knowing look, he knew it didn't matter.
"I'm not going to ask you if you're all right," Heero said. His voice remained neutral. "I can see that you are not."
The blonde frowned at that, not sure how to take the statement. "I can do what I have to."
"I have no doubt," Heero countered almost immediately. "But do not merely throw away your emotions as I did my gun. They are not meant to be ignored."
Quatre looked away, his fists clenching against the material of his pants. In his ears, the sound of approaching footsteps and barking dogs became louder and clearer.
-o-o-o-
"We will report this capture to Romafeller."
"We have no choice but to hand them over to the Foundation."
"Their shuttle was already tagged to be from the Moon base. The Foundation has no doubts that it carried the two Gundam pilots that escaped."
"Then we have two Gundam pilots in our hands. That means there are three more unaccounted for by the Foundation."
"Two, sir. I heard one of them died in an earlier conflict."
His head lifted at the statement, and he gave Quatre a glance. They were standing a good distance away, but he could still hear the conversation. The other pilot had his head turned down, but with the way his shoulders tensed, he knew the Arab had also been following the discussion they were not meant to hear in the first place. Quatre's pale hands, tied together in front of him, clenched in a tight hold.
"Three."
The commander and his three subordinates looked at them as Quatre decided to speak.
"What?" the commander asked the blonde.
"Three. There are three more unaccounted for, not two," Quatre answered, and he could see beneath the fringes of the other's blonde hair that his eyes had lost its previous sharpness and briefly, he wondered where had the blonde soldier and Gundam pilot gone?
"I've let people down before by turning against everything that I believed in. Don't ask me to do it again."
He felt his own hands ball into fists, hearing in his mind the burdened voice of his companion. Quatre was every bit the pilot and skilled soldier he expected a Gundam pilot to be, but right now...
Your heart grieves for what has been done. I can almost feel it in its intensity.
-o-o-o-
There was silence as the soldiers and their commander considered each other. The commander then turned to them, saying, "You do not deny the claims that the two of you are Gundam pilots then?"
Quatre looked up and met Heero's steady gaze, trying to see what answer the other would want them to give. Before he could reply though, the brunette spoke without turning to the soldiers, "What is there to deny? All evidences point to the fact."
"But they are so young..." one of the troop leaders whispered unconsciously to his companion, but it was loud enough for Quatre to hear. He smiled, and it was a tired smile of someone who had seen and done much.
"And when has this war recognized age?" he said, voice soft but heavy. Beside him, he thought he felt Heero tense. Around them, the soldiers stood surprised, not one of them knowing what to say to that. Quatre swept his gaze over each of them, seeing faces of soldiers well past their own years, and he thought of his own fifteen years, probably less than half of some of the soldiers' age. Yet fifteen years were enough for him to do much...
Like turning against the people I vowed to protect...
...and to do so little...
Like not being able to settle things with my father.
"Quatre," Heero called Quatre's attention back before he could even dwell further into other things. His voice was soft that only the blonde pilot heard it.
Quatre merely sighed. "Please," he just said, his voice weary. "Remove these binds. You do not need them. We have no plans of escape as of yet, but even if we have, these ropes will not hold us back."
After a while, the one in command smiled, shaking his head. "Release them," he said to the two men holding the two pilots captive. "I do not doubt the truth in his words. Having nine fully armed men unconscious is enough of a proof that their words are not empty."
The soldiers did as they were told, but neither of the two pilots failed to notice that the others had their guns trained on them.
As soon as his hands were released, Quatre rubbed at his wrists. He felt Heero's gaze on him, but he didn't look up, and kept his eyes focused on his fingers as he needlessly continued to massage his freed hands.
-o-o-o-
A day had passed, and still...
Your eyes are lonely.
The depths of Quatre's eyes swirled with the sadness that he knew the blonde felt as Quatre trained them on the horizon, following the endless stretch of sea in front of him until it met the blue sky in the distance. The hardened look he had yesterday when they were being pursued had melted. The spur of action had long since passed, and seeing the other pilot sitting quietly on the sand, he knew what the was going through the blonde's mind.
You feel guilt.
Kneeling down, he got the pineapple from the dogs, giving each of them affectionate pats. His face was relaxed for once. He stood up and threw the pineapple again, watching as their two supposed guard dogs happily went after it. In his mind, he briefly saw an image of a stuffed bear and he unconsciously clenched his fists.
I know how that feels.
In the edge of his vision, he saw his Arab companion silently watch as the blue sky slowly turned orange.
If the sky weeps, will you weep with it?
-o-o-o-
In his heart, Quatre wished some things had been different, that he had not been so weak and that he was still well and all right, instead of missing and probably dead; that some of the colonists still had a colony to go back to, a home to call their own, and not return to empty space of floating debris where their colony had once been.
He wished it was different, but he knew it wasn't.
He closed his eyes, suddenly wanting to shut out the beauty of Earth presented to him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't want such beauty to be tainted by his hands as well.
He had been able to hold it out well until now, had been able to not dwell on what happened much and how he felt about it. But at the moment, he could feel his guilt weigh him down, and his grief was too much that he kept his eyes closed not wanting tears to suddenly escape without his consent. It was not the time for him to mourn for his wrongs. Not yet. For the time being, he was a Gundam pilot detained in an enemy's camp, not a friend who probably killed someone close and dear, not an erred soldier drowning in guilt and remorse.
When he opened his eyes, they were dry. There were no tears wanting to escape.
-o-o-o-
You haven't cried. Not once.
He crouched down and scratched the dogs behind their ears. Their happy whines were enough for him to know that they liked it.
Tears were not something he was overly familiar with. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his own. But Quatre... He frowned in thought. The thought of Quatre having no tears to cry seemed to bother him, and a memory flashed through his mind... of another time, with a little girl and her little dog.
The moment children lose their ability to cry is the moment I know that I have failed.
He threw the pineapple again with more force than he wanted, and it flew much farther than before. But the dogs eagerly went after it.
You are no child, but you are not meant to walk a path where tears can no longer be shed.
-o-o-o-
After a moment, Quatre felt someone's eyes on him, boring into him and he tilted his head to the side, turning slightly and meeting the cobalt blue orbs of his companion. Under the silent scrutiny, he suddenly felt naked, as though there was nothing he could hide from Heero's gaze.
The Wing pilot said nothing and they were silent. Quatre couldn't help but feel that the other knew of what he was thinking. He looked away, knowing that he probably did. Heero had seen him at his worst and they had shared an experience that only each of them could understand. It wouldn't surprise him if the Wing pilot could easily read him. He could feel Heero's gaze linger on him for a moment longer before the other looked away as well.
Again, they were silent, but he knew something needed to be spoken, but only the playful barking of their guard dogs and the gentle crash of waves on the shore filled the silence of the fading afternoon. It was a while yet before Heero spoke.
"Quatre, do you like animals?"
That was not what he was expecting, but it was more than welcome. He smiled barely, thankful for the distraction. He inwardly thanked Heero for offering the little trivialities that he so needed. "Yes, I love them," he answered, forgetting for that moment the mistakes done and ill choices made.
"Then play with them. I think they like you more than me," the other pilot said, turning back to the two dogs who were just all too content with the attention. "I think they can sense that you're a kind person."
His smile faltered. "Do you think kindness is necessary in war?" he asked, just as thoughts of his father came unbidden to his mind.
"And has it ended? Has the war ended when you started fighting?"
Heero looked at him, the sharp blue gaze piercing in its intensity. "No, not when you're fighting."
Quatre almost turned his head away, but instead he just nodded, barely noticeable, and lowered his eyes. He appreciated the other's honesty. He knew it was true. Kindness probably wasn't necessary in such war.
"But you probably need it at other times."
He looked up at that, surprised.
"Now is not the time to fight, Quatre."
For a moment, their eyes locked in a silent exchange.
Then, Quatre felt himself smiling.
-o-o-o-
Almost two days. They had tarried there long enough. He knew they needed to go soon. A soft sound called his attention back to his blonde companion.
You are dreaming.
He looked at the sleeping pilot in front of him. The other's sleep had been peaceful, up until now. Quatre's face, previously smoothened in sleep, was now scrunched up in a grimace, and his body turned and twisted as if he wanted to free himself from invisible bonds.
He looked outside and saw that it was already dark. He wondered briefly if he should wake Quatre. The other needed the sleep since he had guessed that the blonde hadn't had a chance to rest much since they escaped from the Moon Base, an incident which he really had no memory of. His last conscious memory was Quatre holding him and assisting him before everything went black.
You've been taking care of me.
"No."
He brought his eyes back to the sleeping form of the blonde. Hearing Quatre's soft whimper, he decided any rest was not worth seeing what nightmares the other pilot probably had. In a voice barely above a whisper, he called, "Quatre."
-o-o-o-
Quatre knew he was dreaming, knew it the moment he opened his dream eyes and saw that he was in space and floating in front of him, all bloodied and almost lifeless, was the limp form of Trowa.
No.
It was just a dream; he assured himself many times, just a dream. But knowing such didn't prevent his mind from continuing the sequence and he found himself powerless to stop it and wake up. In his mind's eye, Trowa floated upright, his space suit torn in almost all places and his features was almost covered as blood matted his hair to his face. A phantom hand reached up, almost touching him.
"We are unnecessary soldiers, Quatre, and you killed me."
He wanted to scream, wanted to shake himself awake.
"No."
Trowa's face blurred, and when it cleared again, it was Heero floating before him, and unconsciously, his dream self spoke. "Save him, Heero! Trowa's going to die!"
"Yes, and you killed him."
I killed him.
"I'll kill you."
I killed him.
"Then kill me now!"
Unlike what he would have expected, he woke up with a quiet jerk, not with a scream or shout. His face was damp with perspiration, and he could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. His breathing was labored and he took time to calm himself down, shutting his eyes tightly once more.
I killed him.
He shook his head in silent denial. No, he's not dead.
"You're awake," came a sudden voice from beside him and he almost cursed himself for his carelessness, stilling his first instinct to reach for a weapon that was not there. It was Heero. He knew the other's voice. Even so, he should have checked his surroundings first upon waking up. He looked up and saw the Wing pilot sitting not far from him. They were in the tent they were held in, and he could see that it was already dark outside. "You needed the sleep," Heero said, even before he could ask.
They were detained and kept inside more for formality than for anything else, but they were allowed to wander around with their two guard dogs out on the shore. They were still, technically, prisoners, even if they had already made it clear that any resistance on their part would only arise if absolutely necessary. The camp's commander was kind to let them wander around; Quatre almost thought he wanted them to escape.
"Thank you," Quatre just said, for lack of a better response, as he raised himself from his lying position. He hadn't planned on sleeping almost the whole day, but now that he had, he actually felt a bit rested. He hadn't rested much since bringing Heero and himself to Earth. Heero, on the other hand, had been unconscious almost the entire time after having been immersed in the Zero system for the first time.
Zero system...
Quatre bit his lower lip, remembering the dream that he just had, and he wondered if Heero had known he was dreaming, or if he had shown any of the distress that he felt while he was asleep. Looking at the other pilot, he couldn't tell. Heero's gaze on him was calm and steady. He looked away, almost guiltily.
"Why didn't you go through with it?" he asked softly, eyes focused on the blanket gathered in his waist.
"Waste of ammunition," Heero said.
Quatre let out a soft, almost bitter laugh that surprised even himself. "I'm not even worth one single bullet now, am I?"
He didn't look up as Heero stood up and headed for the tent's exit. But he was surprised when the other said, "I didn't say anything about bullets," before walking out.
Quatre merely gripped the thin blanket in response.
-o-o-o-
He ate quietly, silently finishing the soup in his bowl. Beside him, Quatre did the same, but with an unusual silence that filled the air with tension. He glanced at the other, and he saw that Quatre's eyes seemed distant and hardened.
He put down the bowl when he was done. He looked up at his companion, quietly waiting for him to speak and break the obvious strain in the air around him. He knew Quatre had been dwelling on the things that he was forced to ignore for much more important issues, and the incident with Zero was the most likely candidate. It was obvious from the other's face. He frowned.
Zero.
Quatre merely glanced up briefly in silent acknowledgement of his stare, before turning his eyes back to his meal. But he was not paying attention as a short memory of his own experience with the Zero system returned to him. He tightened his hands into fists and the spoon in his hand was bent slightly.
I lost control.
-o-o-o-
My father is dead.
Quatre finished his meal silently. He hadn't spoken the entire time, and he knew Heero noticed his unusual silence.
I killed Trowa.
He was glad when it seemed Heero turned his attention elsewhere, but it was only a short while before it was returned to him again.
I destroyed a colony.
He could not find it in himself to smile this time and assure the other that everything was all right and nothing was wrong, because everything was.
I almost killed Heero. I wanted to kill Heero.
The fact that they, two fifteen -year-olds, were there in the first place was so out of place. How much more the fact that just some days ago, they were just trying to kill each other and the fact that he had probably killed a dear friend?
His heart ached at the thought.
Not to mention, destroying a colony as well.
"What happened?" Heero suddenly asked. "In the Lunar Base, what happened?"
Quatre frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Zero," Heero elaborated, but Quatre froze at the word. "I remember losing control. I nearly destroyed..."
"You were not yourself," Quatre was quick to say with a dismissing tone. "I don't want to talk about it, Heero. They exposed you to the system without knowing what consequences it might bring. In the end, we escaped, that's all that matters."
"You stopped me in Mercurius." Heero turned to Quatre, but the other looked away.
"I would not want you to follow in my footsteps. I created Wing Zero; the responsibility of it falls on me. My carelessness led me to ignore the system installed in the cockpit. My weakness led me to fall under it. I wouldn't wish it on anyone else."
They were silent for a moment, before Heero said, "You weren't yourself, Quatre."
Quatre looked up sharply at the other pilot. "You tell me that now when I nearly killed you and Trowa?"
"It is because of that that I tell it to you now," Heero answered, as though it was explanation enough.
Quatre's frown deepened. "If I weren't so intent on my own personal revenge none of this would have happened. Don't you see, Heero?" He waved a hand to emphasize his point, but the movement caught on his empty bowl and it clattered softly on the ground. It went unnoticed. "I could have changed everything!"
"You could have, but does it matter now?" Heero's stare was challenging, and Quatre didn't back down. He tilted his chin up and matched Heero's gaze with his own defiant glare.
"It matters to me."
He stood up.
I can't stay here.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
He was almost out of the tent.
"Quatre."
He stopped. His hand was already on the tent flap and just like that, a simple Quatre and he felt he had to say something. He would have laughed at Heero's innate ability to convey so much with so few words if only he felt like it. He unconsciously tightened his grip on the tent's flap. He was silent, taking a moment to think of what to say, and hoping as well that Heero would just let it go at that.
But the other pilot remained silent and waiting, with eyes trained on his back, he knew, and it seemed as though understanding dawned on him.
You made me talk. Is that what you wanted, for me to let this go?
He sighed. He would have smiled, but he felt so weighed down. He looked back and met Heero's gaze. In a gentler voice that didn't carry its previous sharpness, he said, "I'll be back soon. I just need some air."
I just need some time.
They looked at each other for a moment, and when Heero looked away and started to gather their empty bowls to be brought out to a waiting soldier, as though the tension that nearly arose between them had been non-existent, Quatre headed out.
Someday, Quatre thought.
Someday, I'll thank you.
-o-o-o-
He entered the tent after giving their bowls and utensils to the soldier outside. He paused, eyes sweeping over the empty space. Only the blankets and lamp were there.
I lost control in Zero.
The look he saw on Quatre's face was distant and totally closed off, and somehow, it seemed out of place. Granted that he had only met the other pilot, it still did not sit well with Quatre's natural gentle look.
You saved me, just as Trowa saved you.
He knew Quatre had not been given the time yet to grieve or to dwell much on what he had done, and from what he had observed and seen from the blonde, he was not the type to just bottle things up and shrug them off. No, Quatre seemed the type to be open to his emotions and probably held onto them as an anchor.
Do you need saving now?
He raised his hand unconsciously to his chest and frowned.
Quatre hadn't had the time to let this go yet. They were brought back to the Moon Base as prisoners and the events following that had been too fast that any thought beyond what was needed had not been possible. But now, things had considerably slowed down. They would be handed over to the Foundation any time within the next few days, and they would have to escape before then. But until then, things were relatively going at a snail's pace.
He looked back at the tent's entrance where the blonde had just made his exit.
They would have to escape. Tomorrow, they would be able to make their time table after speaking with the one in command. They had little time.
-o-o-o-
Quatre shivered as the cool night breeze blew and he could almost taste the sea in the air. He was unaccustomed to the cool weather, but nevertheless, he just sat there on the shore, barely a few feet away from the water with one leg stretched out and the other bent on the knee. He leaned back on one hand, and the sand under his fingers comforted him, so he curled and uncurled his fingers on it, and the almost unconscious gesture offered what little comfort it could.
He felt numb.
The sun had long deserted the sky, and in its place, the moon, more than a half full, shone its soft luminescent light. He missed the warmth the sun offered but the moon was beautiful and he wished that he had his binoculars with him to magnify the sight in his vision. In his mind, he tried to ignore mission data, battle information and statistics that concerned the Moon Base that he knew of.
Leave the moon as it is, he thought. Do not stain its beauty with thoughts of battle.
His heart seemed empty, as though there was nothing there but silence, and for someone like him who took comfort with what he felt, its emptiness was a resounding hollow in his chest.
"I was going to kill you."
Distantly hearing the playful barks and soft whines of dogs, he knew that their two canine guards were currently being fed. The blonde pilot turned his head just slightly to look behind him, looking for the familiar forms of his two four-legged friends amidst the faintly glowing yellow lights of the tents in the camp. The barking had stopped and he could make out two shadows of happily wagging tails just beside the tent they were kept in.
"I almost wish you had."
Movement caught his eye, and turning his eyes to the tent, he saw Heero looking out to where he was. Their gazes met briefly, but Quatre immediately turned to look away, unable to hold the other's knowing gaze. He looked, instead, at the gently lapping waves and found that the water's movement was soothing and calming to watch.
"Kill me Heero! Kill me now and save him!"
He didn't know how long he sat there, letting the calming view of the sea be the tranquility that he was not feeling and the peace of the surroundings be the serenity that was eluding his heart. Once in a while, he'd look up at the stars, admiring their faint twinkle in the endless stretch of the black midnight sky. Once, he imagined the different colonies in space, but then, he immediately turned his eyes back to the sea instead, not wanting to be reminded of what he had done. He needed no reminder that space was now missing one colony because of him, and with that thought, he shivered again, knowing this time, the weather had nothing to do with it.
He destroyed a colony.
He bit his lip, hard but not enough to draw blood.
He killed a dearest friend.
"But does it matter now?"
What was done was done. He had not power to change what he did.
He looked down at the sand and saw the difference in color that it had with the more golden sands of the desert he was now used to seeing. This sand was lighter, not gold, instead, almost white.
He had gone against all that he believed he was fighting for, and his hands tightened into fists at this. His fingers curled around the sand and griped it tightly as if willing it to disintegrate within his grasp.
I'm sorry, Father. I have tainted your memory and spat on your grave.
He bit his lower lip as he thought of his father.
I wasn't even given a chance to prove myself to you, Father.
There was slight movement behind him and he frowned momentarily. He felt Heero walking towards him, despite the soundless approach of the other pilot. He turned his head slightly to the side and saw in the periphery of his vision the approaching feet of Wing's pilot. He loosened his grip on the harmless sand and he went back to watching the softly lapping waves. He didn't acknowledge Heero for some time, and the other seemed to just content himself with standing a little behind Quatre.
The silence stretched for a while, broken only by the sounds of the water as it calmly hit the sand, and the sound of the gently blowing wind that seemed like a lover's whisper, soft and barely audible to their ears.
"?The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket,'"(1) Quatre finally said, ignoring the chill that caused him to nearly shiver. His voice was soft, and yet he could feel and hear the heaviness in its tone. He almost laughed. He could not even mask his tone to hide numbness and heaviness of his heart. But then again, he knew there really was nothing to hide.
"Do you know it, Heero?" he asked of the song he just quoted, a very old, pre-colony song he remembered hearing. Being faced with the ocean, he remembered the distinct line, as it clearly fitted the image before him.
He wasn't surprised when he received no answer.
Heero merely walked to stand beside him, handing down a military jacket.
Quatre looked up at the offered item. Their eyes met briefly before Heero turned his attention to the great expanse of water that glittered under the soft touch of moonlight. He reached up and took the jacket, seeing Heero already wearing a similar one. He uttered a soft thank you, before he laid it on his shoulders and pulled it around him, thankful that, at least, some of the soldiers were kind enough to lend them some protection from the biting cold of the night.
Once again, the silence enveloped them in its heavy mantle. Quatre laid a hand on his chest, and he frowned slightly, but almost laughed when he realized that he was indeed numb and was not feeling anything. Had his emotions given up on him as well? Had his grief left him, deeming him unworthy of such emotion? Had his guilt finally dissolved, as though he had no right to feel such?
If it wouldn't be so much out of place, Quatre would have laughed, knowing that if he did, the sound would be as empty and hollow as his heart currently seemed.
"We have little time," Heero said, and it was said in a way that the sentence seemed open, hanging.
Quatre tilted his head to the side, looking up past the fall of his hair to Heero. He wanted to smile.
You show your concern in such unusual ways even if you are not aware of it.
He was thankful for the unvoiced concern, even if the other pilot was just probably concerned for his state of mind for an escape, it was enough. "I can do what I have to," he answered, in reply to the unspoken question. "You have no need to worry."
Heero gave a curt nod, and Quatre expected him to walk back to the tent, where he could see two soldiers keeping an eye on them. But the other pilot just stood there.
Quatre shrugged, and turned back to watching the distant horizon with unconcerned eyes.
"Quatre..."
"I killed Trowa," Quatre interrupted, his hand caressing the sand almost reverently. "Aren't you going to kill me?" he said, remembering his dream. Although the words were grave, his voice was soft and unconcerned. Both knew there really was no meaning behind them anyway.
"You did," Heero merely said, not even acknowledging the second part of his statement.
"I did."
"He is not dead."
Quatre's hand paused in its movements. "I know," he just replied softly.
The sound of the sea seemed to grow louder when they fell silent again.
"They killed my father," he said after a while, not at all surprised that he was speaking of an incident he hadn't spoken about since it happened. Folding both of his knees to his chest, he continued to let his hands go over the sand, feeling the coarse texture underneath his palms. "They killed my father before my very eyes and I was helpless to stop them."
"Your revenge..."
"Yes, I was trying to avenge my father and I realize now that such path wasn't meant for me, or for anyone else for that matter. It is a self-destructing path to choose blind hatred and vengeance and it led me to this," he waved his hand to explain, and he hoped that Heero understood what he meant.
Behind them, the dogs barked, once, twice, almost as if calling out to them. But neither of them turned, Heero remained standing, eyes seemingly studying the slow movements of the waves while Quatre had turned his attention to the sand.
"I threatened those I swore to protect. I destroyed a colony, raised arms against you and Trowa, and..." At this, his words faltered. "...and blew Trowa to pieces. Tell me, Heero," he said. His voice sounded weak and distant to his ears, too detached, except for that little waver in his words. "I'm still alive now, but what am I supposed to feel?"
If Heero was surprised at the question, he didn't show it. Quatre didn't even feel him move.
"Am I supposed to feel guilt? Remorse? Anger? Grief? Tell me, because right now, I don't think I'm feeling anything."
At this, Heero looked down at him and Quatre wondered what the other was seeing. Was he seeing the enemy that tried to kill him, the foe that he vowed to kill? Was he seeing the traitor who probably killed one of their own, or was he seeing something else?
The Wing pilot's face was impassive and unreadable as he took note of the calm and seemingly unconcerned look Quatre knew was on his face. He almost shrugged in answer to the silent question in Heero's eyes but he merely turned his eyes back to the sea instead.
"He wouldn't have wanted this," Heero said instead, crossing his arms across his chest.
Quatre smiled mirthlessly. "I know," he said, not needing to ask to know that Heero was referring to Trowa. "He wouldn't have wanted me to blame myself."
"But you do."
"Perhaps," he said, resting his chin on his knees. "There's no one else." He looked at Heero through his bangs and said, "I could blame you, but there's not enough in me to put blame where it doesn't belong."
"How long do you plan on staying out here?" Heero just asked, seemingly ignoring him.
Quatre shrugged. "For as long as I need," he answered, and he knew both of them understood that they were not only referring to his stay out there in the shore. "It will pass," he said by way of explanation. "It just became too much."
They were silent for a time. The water was dark in the night but to Quatre's eyes, an endless stretch of glittering diamonds was before him.
"You haven't cried," Heero commented dryly.
Quatre looked up, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected that at all. The other pilot was carefully watching him. He shook his head, before lowering his gaze to his hands, watching as the sand in them was being slowly blown away every time a soft gust of wind blew. "You notice the most unexpected things."
Heero merely raised a brow before saying flatly, "Do I?"
At that, Quatre actually smiled. "After what happened, no. Not yet," he said, answering Heero's earlier statement. "Did you expect me to?"
"It's better..." Heero answered after a while of silence. "It's better than this."
"I know, anything is better than this..." And the blonde nearly waved his hand to finish the sentence that had trailed off.
"Why?" was the simple question.
"This is neither the time nor place for it," Quatre answered, knowing in his heart that his grief would soon catch up when the need to be strong and detached had passed, just as his pain and guilt would crash down on him. But not yet. Not while they had much more important things to worry about. "When it is needed, I cry when the time is right. I break down when time allows it, but not before then. Right now, you need me here, whole and functional. I've let myself and others down before. I will not do it again." The strength in his repetition of his earlier statement seemed to let the words echo in the silence that followed.
"But don't worry," he continued softly, slightly smiling, and it softened his features which were previously hardened with detached indifference. "I will... soon enough." He heard Heero let out a soft snort. He shook his head in slight amusement. "For someone who looks as if he doesn't give a damn, you worry too much."
Seemingly skeptic, Heero raised a brow at him. "I'm not worrying," he said and his voice was low and soft. It seemed unconcerned and was like a distant cold wind whispering to Quatre's ears.
But the blonde just truly smiled at that, and he tightened the jacket around him. Suddenly, he didn't feel so numb anymore, and for the moment, he was content to just feel. He laid a hand on his chest briefly contemplating the events of the past few days with the stoic pilot. He turned to Heero, the soft smile in his face still present.
This time, Heero actually showed a hint of surprise when he saw that Quatre's face seemed to regain its usually gentle and open look.
"Of course you're not," Quatre merely replied, and his voice had shed its cold indifference to gain its usual warmth. He stood up and dusted his pants, rearranging the jacket on his shoulders after. He then looked up, gentle smile still in place. Meeting Heero's eyes with his own, he said, "And I'm not hurting."
-o-o-o-
He watched the retreating form of his blonde companion as the other walked back to their tent. When Quatre disappeared within, he turned back to the calming sea. A gust of wind blew, and the soft waves lapped at the sand, giving it a much darker color, and he wondered briefly if a single tear could taint it in the same way. He shook his head once, uncrossing his arms from his chest. It was getting colder as the night deepened. He turned his eyes to the moon and saw that it was already past its peak.
He decided to head back. Tomorrow, they'd plan their escape, but for the moment...
"I'm not worrying."
"Of course you're not. And I'm not hurting."
In his ears, both of their lies echoed loudly in the night, carried by the cold night wind on the crest of its wings.
-o-o-o-
End
10.23.05/11.02.05
Notes:
(1) "The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket" - Incubus, Wish You Were Here
Author's Notes:
Like my other gw fic, This Race..., this fic came from the original draft of what turned out to be In a Journey's Spire. You could say that the three run along the same timeline. Thanks again to Anne for offering me space in Gundanium Line, and to Misanagi for the welcome in the fandom. :P
Thank you for reading. ;P