Like Fireworks

Disclaimer: I own neither Gundam Wing nor Harry Potter, this honor belongs to J.K. Rowling and whoever invented Gundam Wing.

Summary: Really he didn't choose to get into those messes by purpose, it was all Oz´s and his uncles fault by selling him to them but like hell would he let them break him. Now here he was, hunted for treason, poisoned and with a bunch of paranoid Gundam Pilots at his hands. But the positive aspect of the whole thing was that it couldn't get any worse or could it?

Warnings: Torture, blood, yaoi (meaning boyxboy action), violence,

AN: Wow, I don't really know what to say, I know it's been over a year since I last updated and I wish I could promise that it will happen more often from now on but sadly I've to say that I'm not sure when I can get back to writing regularly again. There are two reasons for that. One I started on my nursing degree in October so that means that I'm really busy with school and internships and Two, last summer my little sister borrowed my laptop for a few days and somehow managed to download a really nasty virus on it, which means I lost every damn thing I ever wrote, every story-line, every character I created, every story, be it finished or barely an idea, I've been writing since I was thirteen, that's nearly ten years of stories lost. Believe me when I tell you that shit has hit me hard and right back into a writers block. I haven't been able to write anything worthwhile until now. But be assured I've read every single one of your review and they warmed my heart and gave me strength to finally get back to writing again. You guy are absolutely awesome and the knowledge that there are still people out there waiting for me to get back to writing, even over a year since the last update is breath-taking. I adore you guys, I really do. So please don't be too angry with me for my long absence, I will try better next time, but I can't promise anything. But enough of my whining. I hope you will like my next chapter. Please enjoy reading.

Love Loraliell

Chapter Seven

He felt it the moment they crossed the boundaries that separated the military compound from the streets. It was a sharp sting right between his shoulder-blades and the feeling of a vicious, cool fluid spreading in the surrounding area.

Remy bit back a wince and shouldered on as best as he could with his bruised and beaten body and if he slouched just the slightest bit more onto the brown-haired teen that held him up, despite their large height-difference, well somehow he doubted that the sharp-eyed terrorist would mention it.

"Blackmoon, ya holdin' up there?" Remy turned indifferent eyes onto his long-haired cell-mates frowning face, ignoring the burning pain that spread from his shoulders. He knew he wouldn't be able to ignore it in the near future, but for now he would manage. "Haste would be appreciated, I don't know how long I will be able to ignore the effects of the poison before I can't move any longer." Remy winced inwardly at the ruined rasp of his voice. All that screaming the last three days had taken a toll on his vocal cords.

The Chinese Pilot sent him a sharp assessing look before they upped their pace, taking twists and turns to loose any potential followers. By the time they reached the shuttle that would get them off the station Remy was barely conscious and the only reason he was still standing was sheer bullheadedness on his part and the abnormal strength of the dark-haired teen besides him.

They were greeted by a pale blond boy, who's innocent looks did nothing to distract from the calculating sharpness of his gaze. He briefly scanned their group, a flicker of relief in his gaze as he looked at the long-haired teen. "Status?"

The black-haired teen was the one to answer. "One poisoned, 02 is clear."

A slight frown answered him. "Get in, 03 is distracting them. The Medical Team is on Stand-By."


Things started to blur around Remy and he could barely make out the happenings around him. There were more people in the shuttle, all of them wearing scrubs and masks. Doctors, he thought blearily through the steadily rising pain radiating from his shoulders through his body.

His last thought before he finally lost the fight against his exhaustion was. It's over, for better or worse, it was finally over.


Heero caught the taller man with barely a grunt while Quatre gestured sharply to the medics. He barely hid his wince when he felt the sharp sting of agony radiating from the former prisoner. Two of the medics veered of to ensure that Duo was alright and that no nasty surprises were left for them to deal with.

Quatre lifted his hand and gently rubbed the space above his heart. It throbbed with the mixture of physical agony, exhaustion, determination and strangely enough annoyance, but that came mainly from Wufei. He turned his teal-colored eyes onto Heero, a steely glint hiding beneath his gentle smile. "Report 01."

Heero very nearly snapped to attention, his forehead slightly creased by the beginnings of a scowl. "When we reached the cell designated to be 02 we not only found 02 but also our informant. 02 vouched that it was no trick. We used plan Delta to escape and proceeded along route Echo-Two-Nine."

Quatres eyebrows nearly vanished into his hairline. Heero was apparently not only displeased by something but down-right pissed of. The faintest feelings of annoyance he received from Heero had spiked when he mentioned 02 and their informant, so whatever it was, it pissed him of enough to let his emotional training slip.

"Explain." The barely there scowl deepened for a second before it smoothed out again. "02 identified our informant as Lieutenant Remy J. Blackmoon, Oz Grim Reaper." Quatre closed his eyes tightly before he finally gave in and cursed, just this once heartfelt. "Goddamn it 02." The chestnut-haired teen snorted. "Tell me about it 04."

"Here's to hope that this won't backfire on us."


He leaned tiredly against the pale blue painted wall right next to the big window of his room. A bitter smile curved his pale lips the slightest bit while he stared outside into the lovely garden. He hated being so weak, having to depend on others to keep him safe. He couldn't stand it, not one little bit.

Oh he knew they suspected him – most of all 01, closely followed by 03 and 05. Surprisingly 04 was the least suspecting, at least to an extent. 02 was just extremely wary of him beneath that happy-go-lucky attitude he showcased all the time. It was tiring, they watched his every move, dissected his every word. It was in every word they spoke to him, in every gesture in every glance that was thrown his way.

They suspected him, they distrusted him and Remy was pretty sure the only reason they even bothered taking him with them was that he had been a high-ranking officer and he knew enough of Oz secrets to make saving him worthwhile to them. The data-chip he had buried in his upper-thigh seemed to tingle at the thought. But what would they do to him after he had outlived his usefulness?

It wasn't like he could do much to stop them if they really wanted to get rid of him. Sure if he were in full health he could easily stay his ground against them, at least for a time, but now? After the poison had fucked up his body he could be glad to even be alive and able to move around the room. Or rather his glorified prison cell.

Involuntary one of his pale long fingered hands curled itself into a loose fist. He stared at his weak limb. This utter weakness. It was disgusting and it made him feel vulnerable, small and helpless. Something he hadn't felt like since he had to leave the Magical Community to regain his strength and health.

Remys eyebrows drew together in faint annoyance and he brushed the pang of longing he felt aside. There was nothing he could do about it. He had no way of contacting them and he didn't wish to get them involved in his latest mess. Both of them have earned their peace and a normal, happy lives. He forced his face back into the disinterested and bored mask he had cultivated over the last few years. He might have escaped Oz clutches but he was still a prisoner nonetheless.

He let his gaze drift lazily over the tasteful decorated room that his hosts had so graciously given to him. The furniture was exquisite as were the paintings but in the end it was still nothing more than a prison. Granted it was one made of gold instead of the bare metal cells Oz was so fond of but it still was a prison. The cameras and microphones they had installed to keep an eye on him and the two-way mirror that decorated his room only proved his point. Hell the locked door and windows were a dead give-away.

The green-eyed man nearly scowled outwards when he felt the tremors in his legs grow stronger and the little bit of strength he had weaned again. This condition was unacceptable for him. He was used to being able to run. To fight for hours at a time with barely breaking a sweat and now he wasn't even able to keep standing for more than a few minutes. It was absolute disgraceful. He had always been proud of his physical prowess, of his ability to keep standing and to continue fighting even far past the point when others would have broken down in absolute exhaustion.

And in moments like these he couldn't keep himself from despising the Gundam-Pilots for keeping him alive, for forcing him to live this damned half-live, caged like a dangerous animal that could snap at any given moment.

And maybe, just maybe they weren't so wrong in their assumption. Because even now he felt himself slowly slipping into that black gaping abyss that promised him absolution. But by god, he was so tired, so tired of it all. And at the moment the only thing he really wanted was to feel the wind in his hair again, the warmth of the sun on his back and the feeling of fresh grass and dark moist earth beneath his feet.

He wanted to be able to just run again, without having to stop after a few minutes because his body refused to work properly for him. And most of all, he wanted his friends back. Wanted to see his best friend's freckled face and gentle blue eyes and his bright red hair. The warm comforting strength the other had always offered him. He wanted the feeling of Hermiones soft embraces and the scent of her rose scented soap that he had always associated with home, with safety. He wanted the knowledge back that he wasn't alone.

He just wanted this to end.

A tired sigh escaped him as he finally, finally gave up the pretense of a strength he just didn't possess anymore and let himself sink onto the padded windowsill, splaying one hand against the cool glass that separated him from the freedom he had yearned for so many years now.


On the other side of the mirror Quatre frowned. The blond slowly rubbed his chest right above his heart. A soft frown was etched onto his gentle features. The young teen beside him tilted his head slightly in his direction, auburn colored hair cascaded softly over the left side of his face, covering half of it.

Piercing moos-green eyes glanced briefly at him before they concentrated on the older man in the pale blue room beyond the mirror. The blue-eyed boy murmured softly, his hand clutching his shirts fabric now tightly. "His moods are getting worse. He feels restless and I think he starts resenting us for keeping him alive. Every time his body gives out on him his self-loathing grows stronger and he feels … lonely. As if he had been deprived from human-contact for a long time."

Quatre hesitated for a moment before he added slowly. "Trowa … I don't know how long he will be able to keep it together before he tries something more … drastic. He reminds me more and more of a cornered animal every day."

Trowa sharp eyes cut over to him again before the teen looked back, his only real reaction was the miniscule pursing of his lips as he murmured seemingly unconcerned. "I will confiscate anything in his room, he could use to commit suicide with." The blond felt his lips twitch slightly. Trowa might not show it, but he was worried about their ´guest´ and alarmed at his admission about the Ex-Oz-officer.

Quatre would be the first to admit that he didn't understand the black-haired man on the other side of the mirror. At all. Yes he could feel Blackmoon's emotions and he knew from personal experience just what the other was capable of. Blackmoon was a terrifying foe, a brilliant strategist and fighter, but the younger teal-eyed teen just couldn't understand what it was that motivated Blackmoon.

He had felt the green-eyed teen's pure, raw determination to survive, to pull through when he first arrived. Blackmoon had ignored the pain and suffering he had endured, at the hands of Oz and from the poison he had been injected with, and come out on the other side alive and victorious.

Ever since he had first felt the others emotions he had likened him to a brightly burning flame, seemingly endless, sharp with intelligence, bright and warm, much like the sun. But now this bright flame was slowly dimming and it absolutely terrified him to see someone so strong-willed being reduced to a mere shadow of himself.

"It's like watching a wild bird of prey that had its wings clipped. Always yearning for the sky and it's freedom only to be denied every time. Being forced to watch others fly free while it's imprisoned and broken. He is like that and every day he is slipping away a bit faster."

Quatre turned his head slightly to the Chinese youth that had spoken and smiled faintly at Wufei as he slowly closed the door behind him. His usual scowl was absent and his expression was unreadable as he watched with sharp charcoal colored eyes the older teens now slightly slumped position on the padded windowsill and the pale long hand that lay on the window.

"It's disgraceful to see someone as proud as him being reduced to this. He wasn't made to submit to anyone least of all to himself. You know Winner if I had known what you would do to him I would have planted a bullet between his eyes instead of taking him with us, because this is just pure torture. It´s cruel and it is an injustice to keep him in this cage."

The formerly absent scowl had returned in full force as he stared at the former Oz-officer. He was at his limits, Wufei could clearly see that. It would just take the tinniest push to finally destroy the green-eyed man, to break him and the young Chinese teen didn't like it. Not one bit. They may be enemies but Blackmoon was also a fellow warrior and he should be treated as such.

"He could be a spy." Trowas soft murmur made Wufei snort. "In the beginning I would have believed it. But you can't stage something like that. He is nearly broken and once he reaches that point he won't stay alive for much longer. I've seen people like him before. People that have lost everything that was dear to them and the only reason why they still got up in the mornings was because their pride, their will wouldn't let them end it once and for all."

"We-ell~ then, we will just have to make sure that he has something worth living for then? Or do you disagree … Wuffers?" The charcoal eyed teen took a deep breath, trying to calm his frying nerves down and pinched his nose. "Stop those insufferable names immediately Maxwell. My name is Wufei and nothing else."

"Whatever you say, Wu-bear." The violet eyed youth sauntered into the room, his customary grin brightened his face and crinkled the edges of his eyes but the intent behind them belied the carefree expression. "He is a good man, a dangerous one no doubt but a good man nonetheless." Quatre smiled slightly at the quiet admission, it wasn't often that Duo let his mask slip like that.

"He is and he could be a powerful ally if we do this right. We just have to convince Heero of that." Duo grimaced. "Yeah good luck with that. Hee-chan is a stubborn pain in the ass once he comes to a conclusion." Teal-eyes darkened dangerously for a moment before they cleared again to a gentle look. "Oh, he will be convinced and once we come from our next mission back we will sit down with the Lieutenant and have a little talk."