A Soldier's Love

Part 7

Written by: Pingo

A GW/Yaoi/Shonen-ai Fanfic

Rated PG-13 for language, lime, bondage (nothing like that!), and boy/boy love. No Lemon, you hentais! Sorry...

Author's Note: I'll get this out as quick as I can! I have a few ideas. Someone submitted me an idea, but I had that in mind for later, like the second to last part... whichever one that is... Anyways, I'm sick right now, and just have a lot going on in general. I'm in the middle of two amazing books, working on another fan fic, and I have a ton of other stuff going on, so please, bear with me and be patient...

Heero just stood there staring at the scene on the porch. *He's alive,* the Japanese boy thought to himself. He watched as the two American boys hugged, and Solo leaned up to whisper something in Duo's ear. Suddenly, Duo slid off the othe boy and stood up, suddenly embarrassed.

He cleared his throat, as Solo climbed back on to his feet. "Solo, this my *boy*friend, Heero. Heero, this is Solo."

Heero, held out a hand to shake the American's hand, as Solo did the same. They shook hands, both locking eyes with the other. They may have stood there forever, gripping hands in a silent struggle of will, if Duo hadn't spoken up then.

"Why don't we go in and get something to drink? The rest of our friends should be back soon."

~*~*~

Trowa was laying down, half-asleep when he heard the knock at the door. *Who could that be? No one knows I'm here...* He stood up to answer the door, but was startled when the door burst open, and several bulky figures dressed in back swarmed into the room. Trowa grabbed for the phone, but one of the heavily muscled people grabbed his hand before he could get it, and in seconds he was on the floor face down, his arms caught behind his back, and his legs pinned to the floor.

"What are you doing?!?" he cried out. He got no answer, though, as someone ripped a strip of cloth from the bedsheet and forced the strip into his open mouth, tieing it at the base of his skull. Trowa tried to yell for help, but it was too late. His voice came out muffled and illegible. Then, another strip was placed over his eyes, and another was used to bind his wrists, and another on his ankles. Trowa struggled with all of his might, but it did no good, the fighting only served to wear out the Heavyarms pilot. He gave up his struggle, as he was lifted and slung over someone's shoulder.

*Where are they taking me?!?* he wondered as he was carried out the door.

~*~*~

Quatre and Wufei were almost finished with their meal when Quatre's cell phone rang. Flashing the Chinese boy an apologetic smile, Quatre answered the phone.

'Is this Master Winner?' A gruff voice asked.

"Yes it is... May I ask who's calling?"

'Who we are is not what is important. It's more a matter of who we have...'

"What are you talking about?"

'We have your beloved koi. Do not go to the polic. We will be in touch.'

Before the phone cut out, Quatre heard someone cry out in pain, and he was sure it was Trowa... The Arab boy sat in stunned silence, paralyzed.

"Who was that?" he vaguely heard Wufei ask. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words just wouldn't come out...

Author's Note: So, what'd you think? Short I know, I've just been so busy lately, and I'm trying to get the story in the direction I want it to go. Well, anyway, I'll work on part 8 over the weekend, and I hope to have it up by Monday night, tuesday night at the latest...

Ja Ne!