Moulin Rouge: Gundam Wing Style

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I wish I owned the g-boys or even had some part of the Moulin Rouge…it won't come true b/c I'm not rich.

Warnings: Yaoi pairings, death, sex or "adult situations" and a scene of almost NCS (or rape) and perhaps a little OOC (but I'll try and stay away from that.

Pairings: The major one is 2x4 but there are others….which I won't ruin for you.

A/N: Quatre's story is in regular print and everything else is in italics. Just to make that clear. And I don't mean to make Quatre's prologue sound like an essay. It's just an opening to the story...

Chapter 1: There Was A Boy…

There was constant chatter in the corridor. People laughing, sipping champagne. The sun was out shining and there was a light breeze flowing in through the open windows. One girl departed from the group and walked alone. Her deep golden hair was pulled back and her blue were filled with sadness. When she approached the correct door, she gently rapped her fingers on it. "Quatre? Will you come out?" She heard no answer, sighed and walked away. When she returned to the festivities, her sisters gave her expectant looks. "No…he won't come."

Yasmina, one of the older and more motherly sisters, said, "If he doesn't come out soon…I'll be forced to knock the door down and get him myself!"

Ariadne nodded in agreement, "This is getting ridiculous."

"I think you are all going about it too rashly. He's obviously upset about something." Another said.

"That's stating the obvious!" Ariadne shot back. The party then erupted into a squabble, a vicious cat fight.

They didn't hear the soft soundings of footsteps. "Um…excuse me?" Came a quiet voice. The sisters turned around. Before them was their youngest brother, Quatre. His face was gaunt, his lips chapped, his hair a mess and there were deep circles under his eyes.

Iria glared at the others, "Yes Quatre?"

"I'd like something to eat please…" His voice trailed off. "Send it to my room." He turned and started to go.

The sisters glanced at each other and then made a mad dash for Quatre.

"Oh, baby, you look awful!"

"Tell us what happened, dear."

"You're safe now. Safe forever."

Quatre had the urge to roll his eyes, "I don't feel like telling the story."

"You were gone for a while—"

"You must tell us!"

Quatre sighed, it seemed as if he we trying to move an anvil off his chest. "I can write it down for you." Yasmina had the word, "why" on her lips but refrained from asking. "I don't want all the interruptions and I don't feel like talking about it either."

"But—" Ariadne started to say.

"Just let him do whatever the hell he wants!" Iria snapped at them and then smiled at the thankful look in Quatre's eyes.

After having some soup to eat Quatre moved from the floor to his chair where his laptop was. He then began typing…….

The Moulin Rouge was named after the one on earth that had been destroyed years ago. It stood out conspicuously on L2's landscape. A red and metal contraption with a windmill and tall towers ruled by the notorious Relena. Many people came to this retro nightclub not for the drinks or the music but for the whores and dancers that lived there. It was a kingdom of nighttime pleasures where the rich and powerful came to play with the beautiful creatures of the underworld. But the most beautiful of all the "creatures" was the man I loved. Duo Maxwell, a courtesan, he sold his body to men and women every night. But he was the star. They called him "Shinigami" for he would kill the hearts of those who tried to claim him. The man I love is

Quatre curled and uncurled his fingers. He couldn't write that part. Not yet. He waited until the shaking stopped in his hands.

I first came to L2 in the year 195, the summer of love. I knew nothing of Relena or Duo. My heart and soul were completely focused on self-discovery, which is why I ran away from L4. One cannot live life under the lock and key of his sister's affections. And, of course, father wouldn't approve.

There was a building in L2 across from the Moulin Rouge, called the Maguanac, where the artists, actors and writers lived. These were people who knew themselves—I was sure of it! And although it wasn't full of the grandeur of any Winner mansion, it was also not as my father described.

"A colony of sin!" He shouted at me, the night before I left. Yes, there were junkies and whores in the alleyways. It wasn't the cleanest place but it was the center of the artistic world! There were all types of artists there and I knew my heart belonged with them. They were known as the "Children of the Revolution". Here was a place where my birth was more than just being grown in a test-tube. Here I could write my feelings; I could discover myself. Yes, I came to live a penniless existence to write about that which I believed in: truth, beauty, freedom and above all else, love. (I know what father would say.)

"Always this ridiculous obsession with love!" He would tear his hair, gnash his teeth, foam at the mouth. Yes, verily he was pissed.

But there was simply one problem. I had never been in love! At the blossoming age of fifteen, I had not ever experienced what was the most famed experience of all time. And at that time I even doubted my family's love! How was I supposed to write about life if I have never experienced the one thing that made it worth living?

Quatre sat back in his chair. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." He smiled softy as he brought a golden cross to his lips and kissed it.