Disclaimer: I do not own GW, therefore I do not make any money off of this.

Warnings: This story contains yaoi. If that's not your cup-of-tea, then I suggest you move on. Rated T, just to be safe.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2

As always, please enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

"I'm coming, Quatre."

His blood sang, though his body was exhausted. Too long he'd defied death, too long he'd put off the inevitable. Yet, something kept him going. Something pulled him deeper into Libra as the battle raged. An explosion lit the corridor, Deathscythe, true to it's master's name, appearing from the depths of death and destruction.

Duo. Trowa bit back a smile. In truth, he'd developed a soft spot for the braided American pilot, with his flamboyant personality, and never ceasing smile. Here, though he had assumed his Shinigami persona, the God of Death, he was a comfort to Trowa.

Their words were exchanged quickly, for each pilot had a mission to fulfill. They parted, each wishing the other well, ignoring the nameless voices deep within their minds who whispered coldly that they may never meet again. Trowa's pulse thrummed like a humming bird in his ears. Quatre was hurt. How badly, this naturally cold soldier had no way of knowing. The empathetic link which had grown between them from the first moment they'd laid eyes on each other offered no comfort or knowledge save for the fact that his secret love lived. For now.

When this is over, Quatre... The moment this is over, I promise you I'll tell you everything.

Trowa.

Quatre swam between two worlds. Both dark, both cold, though one blissfully secure inside his own mind and body. The other, a control room for mobile dolls, powered by the Zero system...the same system which had fueled his insanity.

I suppose I deserve this, he thought to himself, wishing himself back to the refuge that came with blacking out, I suppose I deserve to die here, by the hand of a woman convinced she has no kindness left, and surrounded by my own worst nightmare...a system I built myself. Payment for the lives I've taken, and for the lie I've lived. Oh, Trowa. How I wish I could have told you how I feel.

"I've continually fought. And with each battle I've been killing my own heart." A familiar voice broke through the barrier separating him from true consciousness. "And my heart has been completely void of feeling for quite a long time now. Maybe my life doesn't have value now." Trowa was explaining to Dorothy.

Please, Trowa. Quatre pleaded silently, unable to form the words. Don't say such things. You have value. I value you. I need you.

"But I have to keep on living." Trowa finished.

"Why is that?" Dorothy inquired softly, never daring to look at the emerald eyed pilot.

"Because I've got a home to go back to." Trowa replied softly. One with Quatre, if he'll have me.

Quatre's heart sang, as pain coursed through him. Trowa! Yes, Trowa! Yes, you've a home to go back to. We have a home to go back to. Damn it, damn this torn body. I'm not ready to go yet. I've Trowa to go to!

Quatre's will to return to the world of the living doubled. Images began to sharpen, as his breath became audible, harsh in his own ears. Panting through the pain, he tried not to jerk with slight surprise as a hand was laid on his shoulder. Gazing through heavily lidded eyes he peered into never ending emerald orbs, seeing clearly for the first time the love that shown there.

"Can you stand, Quatre?" Trowa inquired, willing himself not to haul the smaller man against him from the sheer relief of having found him alive. Gentle, he must be gentle. There was no real way of knowing exactly how much blood his love had lost, or how bad the damage might be. No, he would show his relief later...once he was certain this man, this incredible man who had revived the heart of a cold, emotionless soldier was far from Death's grip.

A token struggle was made, as the blond pilot requested Trowa to take care of Dorothy and forget him. Trowa was not fooled however, and found himself fighting back a smile again. Leave it to Quatre, he thought to himself. Duo is right. He'd take the sins of humanity upon himself if we'd allow him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself."he assured Quatre.

"You're probably right." Quatre allowed the taller man to pull him to his feet, and wrap a strong arm around him, supporting his weight.

Trowa steered them from the room, wishing he could leave the battle to the others...wishing that he could immediately deliver Quatre into the hands of medical professionals who could correct the damage that had been done to his beloved.

Sensing the turmoil within the taller pilot, Quatre allowed himself a small smile, though in truth it appeared more as a grimace.

"Trowa." He whispered.

They stopped for a moment, and Quatre soon found his face being tilted upward to stare back into the face he adored, greeted by a concerned look. He could feel the opposing forces within Trowa.

"We have to finish what we've started, Trowa."

"Quatre..." Trowa began, only to allow the small blond to quiet him with a small shake of his head.

"Do you remember what you said to me, all those months ago in that safe house in the desert?" Quatre inquired. Trowa frowned in confusion. "You said we have a duty. You were right, Trowa. We have a duty to the people both of the colonies and the Earth. We must finish this, Trowa."

"You're hurt, Quatre. You need medical attention." Trowa supplied, knowing he was defeated before the argument began.

Quatre attempted to smile. "I'll survive. As long as you help me, I can hold on long enough to get through this."

Trowa found himself pulling the blond into a gentle embrace, indulging himself by resting his face briefly in the smaller man's hair, breathing in the scent that was so uniquely Quatre. "I'm here as long as you need me."

"I need you, Trowa. More than you know," Quatre whispered, wishing they were in another time, another place. Anywhere, anywhere else so they could have the conversation they both knew must be had.

Trowa pulled away slightly, readjusting so that they could glide through the hallways back to their Gundams.

Soon. He promised himself. Soon.

TBC