Title : It won't have us
Author : Dùlin
Pairing : 1+/x4, 4+D
Fandom : Gundam Wing
Theme : #8 – Our own world
Rating : M/R
Warnings : Canon-ness, angsty, MO-2, spoiler for end of series. Sequel to #17, Odds.
Disclaimer : Those yummy boys belong to Sunrise and Bandai. Which are not me.
O.O.O.O
Dorothy found them just as they got out of the storeroom. Quatre was shivering, courtesy of shock, a slight fever and the too flimsy hospital gown that was his only garment, and Heero's arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him more or less upright in the zero-G sector.
They did not ask her anything, not how she had escaped her guard's surveillance, not why she was here now of all places and not trying to make a run for it while the general confusion on the satellite allowed her to. She didn't say anything either. Her eyes met Heero's for a second, and then she was by Quatre's side, gently lifting his left arm to place it around her shoulders and careful not to graze his injury with her space suit.
The 'walk' back to Quatre's room was awkward. Quatre was not exactly a dead weight, and he held onto both of his helpers as well as he could, but the gravity differences between the sectors were affecting him more than they had before, now that the anaesthetic and painkillers had worn off. The lopsided little group drew many a curious glance on their way.
Dorothy asked for a nurse through the intercom as soon as Quatre was back in bed and strapped. The young woman who answered the call didn't say a word as she changed the bloodied bandages. She and Heero then helped Quatre into a fresh gown, and the nurse left with the sweat-soaked one to dispose of it as was fit.
The silence could have been uncomfortable, but they let it stretch between the three of them for a few more minutes. There was nothing that really needed to be said.
It was Heero who asked.
"What are you going to do now ?"
Dorothy shrugged.
"Mr. Treize and Mr. Milliardo are gone. I am the last of the Libra's commanding officers. I would say it is a matter of what will be done with me rather than of what I will do."
"I don't think they would hold it against you …" Quatre started, but Dorothy interrupted him.
"The Gundam pilots are the heroes of the war, Quatre. Where there are heroes, you need to have villains. I'm quite ready to step forward and play the part."
"We're not heroes !" Quatre protested. He made a movement to sit up, but Heero's hand on his chest forced him to lie back down. The glare that followed was enough to deter any other attempt.
"Maybe you're not," Dorothy admitted. "But that's what they will make of you anyway. You cannot escape it anymore than I can. And I wonder … what would they think, if they knew how much you hate them ?"
"What ?" Quatre asked in a weak voice. Heero didn't speak, but Quatre felt the hand that still held him down tense up.
Dorothy smiled.
"Well, you do hate them, don't you ? Think about it, and you will see I'm right. You might have had a reason to fight, once upon a time, but the fact remains : you were tools, all of you. And when a tool becomes useless … 'Someone had to do it', they will say. They will build a picture of you, make you into heroes, so that they can look at you in the eyes and thank you, and they will never know how much you hate them for turning you into what they feared to become and looking the other way as they did it. This world you built with your blood, and the blood of so many, it won't have you."
Quatre closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It would have been easier if he had found it in himself to deny what she was saying. He could try, of course, but she would never believe it. She would know his words for what they were, lies.
"How cruel of you, Dorothy, to stab a man again when he's down," he choked out, his voice shaking in spite of his efforts.
"I thought you'd rather hear it from me," she answered. She came closer and put her hand next to Heero's, right on Quatre's heart. "But I want you to know one thing … If I had to do this all over again, then … I would do exactly the same thing."
Her hand slid lower and touched Quatre's bandaged side lightly.
"I know," Quatre said.
"Take care of yourself, Quatre Raberba Winner."
Quatre nodded.
"You too, Dorothy."
END OF THE ODDS ARC