Don't own GW etc etc......once again, please don't read this if you cant stand rape fics, or major angst.

SO NEAR



I never thought that anything could be worse that the day to day emotional and physical pain of being a Gundam Pilot, but it's nothing compared to this. Although it is because we are Gundam Pilots that we are being held, tortured and humiliated like this.



I sit with my back against the wet and dirty cell wall, my knees drawn up to my chest and my hands clasped around my ankles. I have no choice but to stand this position. My hands, not shackled together but to each respective foot, they then chained to the wall. It's awful, I can't breathe properly, nor can I stand up or stretch my aching, burning joints. My muscles suddenly cramp and spasm again, the added pain to the already unbearable agony makes me whimper.



He looks up at me, his eyes full of concern, though he says nothing. Neither of us can speak, the pain is too great. I feel so guilty sitting here watching over his broken body, ruthlessly chained to the wall in the same position I am in. I should have tried to help him, instead of just lying there while they used his body like a toy for their own amusement and satisfaction.



Rape is the lowest form of abuse that can be inflicted on someone. I think they raped me first because I put up the least resistance. I just lay there, letting them abuse my body, eyes tightly closed and praying it would all be over soon. I heard Quatre cry out for them to stop several times, but he went unheard. I desperately wanted to tell my poor baby not to cry, but the pain prevented my words.



They turned on him next, laughing at him, joking that the 'innocent' looking one was more feisty that he appeared. I beared witness to them pound into his body mercilessly. I could see the tears in his eyes, but he held them back, refusing to let them fall, refusing to let them have the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Quatre's the strongest person I know, but this was tearing his very presence apart. He begged them to stop, to which they replied by hitting him sharp and hard across the back of his head. The un-holy crack that echoed through the miserable little cell made me want to scream. I'm utterly amazed it didn't snap his neck and I couldn't believe he managed to stay conscious throughout the whole ordeal.



They weren't satisfied with just taking advantage of his body though. They beat him savagely, attacking his beautiful perfect face mostly, though a few brutal kicks made sure they broke a few limbs too. He couldn't even move when they finally finished with him, but they still insisted on securing him back to the wall, twisting his shattered bones back into the unbearable position we sit in now. Confident he'd been throughly silenced, they left us back in the dark, their taunts and laughter echoing down the hall.



I've lost all track of time, but that must have been more that two days ago. We still sit curled up in agony, chained to the wall so we cannot move a single inch. We have no food, water, or anything to help soothe our wounds. I can still smell the blood that covers us and coats the floor. Quatre's a mess, his face bruised and swollen, his lip split in two places, a deep gash on his cheek. The position he's in makes it impossible for his broken bones to begin healing. His bleeding wont stop. It's slow and steady paced but a few more hours and he wont have enough to live. He's always been pale but now his skin is pure white, the only colouring is the ugly purple bruising that covers most of his body.





I can feel my own blood flow whenever I try to move, which gives me no choice but to sit perfectly still, not even daring to breathe in case it starts again. It covers the insides of my legs, my hands and it's smudged across my face. I've always found staring at my own life liquid fascinating, yet terrifying at the same time.



God he's still so beautiful, the only positive thing inside this place, though his face is marred and his bright sparkling eyes are dull and tortured, his pure blonde hair tinted by streaks of his own blood. I often ask myself why someone so perfect like him would love someone like me, a worthless, nameless nobody with nothing to offer. He's my little ray of sunshine in my otherwise dark life. But they took his sunny brightness away from him.



I look up, and to my anguish he's begun to cry. He makes no noise, just lets the tears fall. I'd do anything to break free from my bonds and just hold him, tell him how much I love him. Yet I cannot move nor cannot speak, which is very slowly killing me from within. We're sitting not 15ft away from each other, yet I've never felt so distant from him.



Slowly, his eyes close and his head slumps forward. He's finally given up the fight and let unconsciousness take over. I very much doubt either of us will make it out of here alive, but I only have one wish; I want to be near my only love again, to whisper those three important words and hold him close before we depart from this realm.



And then, in the dark, with no one else to see, I let the tears fall.