Author Note: Gundam Wing is in no way mine nor will it ever be unfortunately but you know
that already. Sequel to a 'Stone Choked With Weeds'.
A Quiet Moment
By Cerise Rant
A pool of yellow light stretched across the dim room illuminating a sparsily decorated
room. The white walls had dulled to a grey yellow, and the white tile was a dark grey. A
small, rickety bookcase with few books, a tattered red couch with a pillow and a frail
blanket, and a desk with a chair was the only funiture. The scatched, wooden desk was
covered only with an old, open book and neat stack of faded paper. Leaning back in a
squeaky chair Quatre chewed on the end of his pen staring at the fluid Aribic sprawling
across the book's pages and wondered about the meaning of the word he was trying to
translate.
His hair was ruffled and some spots were spiked from his hand running through it so
much. The custom made clothes he had on fit him very loosely and were thread bare with
poor patching in several spots. He tossed down his pen and nervously walked away flicking
the rooms light off.
He went past the tiny, rank bathroom into the kitchen trying to tug an upright bang
down. When he flicked on the dim light a flock of roaches fled to the cracks and drawers of
the filthy area. Dirty dishes were piled in the rusty sink and black trash bag was overflowing
with garbage. A rustling noise filled the room as the bugs in the bag scurried because of the
disturbance.
Quater ignored all this and opened the almost empty fridge. Half a loaf of bread and
a stack of single slice cheese inhabited the barren space. Several gallons of milk jugs now
used for water and one was filed with weak tea. This he grabbed and poured into a cloudy
glass.
Flicking off the light as he wandered into the previous room and plopped down on
the couch sending up a cloud of foul dust. He laid his head on the pillow ignoring the
bloodstains and pulled the fraying blanket over himself in the dark. His socked feet stuck out
over the couch's edge but he ignored that and instead concentrated on the noise of someone
at the door. The tarnished knob was turning in unison with a key in the lock. The door
opened with a groan and a tall figure walked in with long bangs covering his face.
Quatre frowned slightly and said, "Go away."
The figure stopped a few feet away and tilted its head questioningly to one side.
Pressing his face into the pillow, Quatre mummured, "You're not welcome anymore."
It approached the couch and kneeled next to him putting a hand out to touch him.
"Don't you dare touch me!" Quatre hissed pressing himself deeper into the couch.
Pulling its hand back slowly it watched him silently before spotting the leg to a
teddybear sticking out from under the couch. It pulled the bear out and placed it next to
Quatre who flinched.
"...go away... the dead are not to come here..." he whimpered refusing to take the
bear. He felt the bear fall from the couch and could sense the figure sighing in frustration. "...
just rest in peace..."
The figure stood up and strood out the door leaving it ajar. Cold night air blew in
disturbing the stale air of the apartment.
Quatre leaned his head over the bed's edge and stared at the bear on the floor. He
got off the couch and turned the light on after shutting the door.
Sitting down at the desk again he pulled a worn journal out and began to write. Page
after page he filled with almost uneligable writing that often did not follw the pages lines.
Random doodles began to cover the border of many paragraphs as his writing pace slowed.
-------------------------
Suddenly a door was opened behind Quatre and a bright, white light flooded the
room following the sound of a light-switch being flicked. The noise of soft shoes sounded
behind Quatre but he didn't turn from writing on the mental ward's wall.
A gentle voice calmly asked, "Quatre are you okay?"
No answer.
"Do you need something to help you sleep?" the person continued.
Still no answer.
The person saw the bear on the floor and picked it up. Placing it on the bed, he
asked, "Why did you let it fall? You are always holding the bear, Quatre. Quatre, look at
me."
With an abrupt aggressive movement, Quatre smacked the bear off the bed sending
it flying into the person's feet.
"Now Quatre, why did you do that?" he said picking it up and putting it on the chair
next to the door. "I thought it was special to you."
Quatre looked up. His bloodshot eyes were blankly staring in the person's general
direction but were not focusing on anything. He whipered in a raspy voice, "He lied to me,
you know."
Raising an eyebrow he asked Quatre, "What did he lie about, Quatre?"
"Dying."
"What do you mean by dying?"
"Trowa's dead. You don't have to tell me. I know."
"Why do you think he is dead?"
Quatre focused his eyes on the person who shifted uncomfortably under the livid
stare. He hissed, "Do you know otherwise?"
The person did not reply right away, "It is good you are on speaking terms with me.
Do you remember my name? I have been you doctor since you awoke two months ago."
"Patient Quatre is currently not in this moment. You can leave a message after the
beep. BEEP!" Quatre said in a polite, flat tone with his eyes staring blankly off and he smiled
crookedly.
The doctor started and blinked before sitting back pulling a note pad out of his
pocket to quickly jolt something in it.
Quatre narrowed his eyes and watched closely as the doctor wrote. He leaned back
against the wall with a sigh that was half a growl and said, "You people disgust me. Can't
wait till you leave the room to write down my every movement, can you? A wall is a better
conversationalist. It doesn't criticize. Leave." He turned his head away and stared at the wall
covered in scribbles and drawings that overlapped.
The doctor stood up and stared at Quatre a moment before leaving the room.
At the sound of it closing, he looked at the bear in the chair and whispered to himself,
"He is alive then?"
Picking the pen off the pillow Quatre began to scratch out certain words throughout
the wall's writings. Eventually every word of end, dead, lie and death was blocked out.
He laid down an smiled slightly before thinking outloud, "If I pretend to be okay they
might let me see him. That would be nice."
that already. Sequel to a 'Stone Choked With Weeds'.
A Quiet Moment
By Cerise Rant
A pool of yellow light stretched across the dim room illuminating a sparsily decorated
room. The white walls had dulled to a grey yellow, and the white tile was a dark grey. A
small, rickety bookcase with few books, a tattered red couch with a pillow and a frail
blanket, and a desk with a chair was the only funiture. The scatched, wooden desk was
covered only with an old, open book and neat stack of faded paper. Leaning back in a
squeaky chair Quatre chewed on the end of his pen staring at the fluid Aribic sprawling
across the book's pages and wondered about the meaning of the word he was trying to
translate.
His hair was ruffled and some spots were spiked from his hand running through it so
much. The custom made clothes he had on fit him very loosely and were thread bare with
poor patching in several spots. He tossed down his pen and nervously walked away flicking
the rooms light off.
He went past the tiny, rank bathroom into the kitchen trying to tug an upright bang
down. When he flicked on the dim light a flock of roaches fled to the cracks and drawers of
the filthy area. Dirty dishes were piled in the rusty sink and black trash bag was overflowing
with garbage. A rustling noise filled the room as the bugs in the bag scurried because of the
disturbance.
Quater ignored all this and opened the almost empty fridge. Half a loaf of bread and
a stack of single slice cheese inhabited the barren space. Several gallons of milk jugs now
used for water and one was filed with weak tea. This he grabbed and poured into a cloudy
glass.
Flicking off the light as he wandered into the previous room and plopped down on
the couch sending up a cloud of foul dust. He laid his head on the pillow ignoring the
bloodstains and pulled the fraying blanket over himself in the dark. His socked feet stuck out
over the couch's edge but he ignored that and instead concentrated on the noise of someone
at the door. The tarnished knob was turning in unison with a key in the lock. The door
opened with a groan and a tall figure walked in with long bangs covering his face.
Quatre frowned slightly and said, "Go away."
The figure stopped a few feet away and tilted its head questioningly to one side.
Pressing his face into the pillow, Quatre mummured, "You're not welcome anymore."
It approached the couch and kneeled next to him putting a hand out to touch him.
"Don't you dare touch me!" Quatre hissed pressing himself deeper into the couch.
Pulling its hand back slowly it watched him silently before spotting the leg to a
teddybear sticking out from under the couch. It pulled the bear out and placed it next to
Quatre who flinched.
"...go away... the dead are not to come here..." he whimpered refusing to take the
bear. He felt the bear fall from the couch and could sense the figure sighing in frustration. "...
just rest in peace..."
The figure stood up and strood out the door leaving it ajar. Cold night air blew in
disturbing the stale air of the apartment.
Quatre leaned his head over the bed's edge and stared at the bear on the floor. He
got off the couch and turned the light on after shutting the door.
Sitting down at the desk again he pulled a worn journal out and began to write. Page
after page he filled with almost uneligable writing that often did not follw the pages lines.
Random doodles began to cover the border of many paragraphs as his writing pace slowed.
-------------------------
Suddenly a door was opened behind Quatre and a bright, white light flooded the
room following the sound of a light-switch being flicked. The noise of soft shoes sounded
behind Quatre but he didn't turn from writing on the mental ward's wall.
A gentle voice calmly asked, "Quatre are you okay?"
No answer.
"Do you need something to help you sleep?" the person continued.
Still no answer.
The person saw the bear on the floor and picked it up. Placing it on the bed, he
asked, "Why did you let it fall? You are always holding the bear, Quatre. Quatre, look at
me."
With an abrupt aggressive movement, Quatre smacked the bear off the bed sending
it flying into the person's feet.
"Now Quatre, why did you do that?" he said picking it up and putting it on the chair
next to the door. "I thought it was special to you."
Quatre looked up. His bloodshot eyes were blankly staring in the person's general
direction but were not focusing on anything. He whipered in a raspy voice, "He lied to me,
you know."
Raising an eyebrow he asked Quatre, "What did he lie about, Quatre?"
"Dying."
"What do you mean by dying?"
"Trowa's dead. You don't have to tell me. I know."
"Why do you think he is dead?"
Quatre focused his eyes on the person who shifted uncomfortably under the livid
stare. He hissed, "Do you know otherwise?"
The person did not reply right away, "It is good you are on speaking terms with me.
Do you remember my name? I have been you doctor since you awoke two months ago."
"Patient Quatre is currently not in this moment. You can leave a message after the
beep. BEEP!" Quatre said in a polite, flat tone with his eyes staring blankly off and he smiled
crookedly.
The doctor started and blinked before sitting back pulling a note pad out of his
pocket to quickly jolt something in it.
Quatre narrowed his eyes and watched closely as the doctor wrote. He leaned back
against the wall with a sigh that was half a growl and said, "You people disgust me. Can't
wait till you leave the room to write down my every movement, can you? A wall is a better
conversationalist. It doesn't criticize. Leave." He turned his head away and stared at the wall
covered in scribbles and drawings that overlapped.
The doctor stood up and stared at Quatre a moment before leaving the room.
At the sound of it closing, he looked at the bear in the chair and whispered to himself,
"He is alive then?"
Picking the pen off the pillow Quatre began to scratch out certain words throughout
the wall's writings. Eventually every word of end, dead, lie and death was blocked out.
He laid down an smiled slightly before thinking outloud, "If I pretend to be okay they
might let me see him. That would be nice."