For the Grace of Knights and Angels

By Doctor Megalomania

Chapter Thirty-Six: Proven
"What a boring planet."

Once there was a rich boy. A very rich boy. He could do anything he wanted, and anything he wanted he could have. His father was a Winner, in more than just a name. His family consisted of a multitude of sisters who were award winning businesswomen and doctors. Since he was the baby of the family, no one expected very much of him. He was free.

Too free.

He hated it.

He hated the way life seemed to amble by.

He hated himself.

Just in time, Quatre raised his own scimitars and caught Quinze's in a lock. The old man's body reeked of death, his white hair flailing as he struggled against Quatre. Quinze's eyes narrowed, "Why don't you just give it up? You cannot win against death!"

Quatre shook his head, "I can't give up. The earth is behind me. My friends are behind me." He jumped back, simultaneously unbalancing the old man and gaining a better foot hold on the uneven ground. "I cannot give up now!"

His heart pounded in his ears, a beat of music that he listened to. He could easily see that Quinze was lacking in skill, though not in malice. Lingering traces of the Zero program kicked into his mind, quickly locating his opponent's weakness. He could not fail. Not this time. His mother was depending on him, Rashid was depending on him. Trowa. Yes, Trowa was depending on him. /There's a seventy percent chance that we will fail, but we cannot allow those odds defeat us./

His space heart.

His heart beat. He could feel it fall into a rhythm he thought he knew.

A song was growing his heart, a rhythm emotion that would drive him forward.

Quinze let out a squeal of surprise as the small blonde former pilot dived toward him on translucent golden wings. Their weapons clanged together, golden sparks flying up where Quinze's cold burnt gold met the purity of Quatre's blades. The former white fang leader could hardly keep up with the speed and the ferocity of smaller man's attack.

He almost felt himself to be overwhelmed. Wondering all at once, where the hell his backup was; he was facing the most powerful of the angels' representatives. Quinze punched out with his fists as the smaller fighter began to get the upper hand. His severe lack of skill with the blades was no match for the former Gundam pilot's.

"I can't give up." Quatre spat as he landed a particularly nasty blow to Quinze's temple, "I can't fail again!"

"… still better than me…"

Everything was better than him. Everything. He was nothing but selected genes from his father and some woman he would never know. Put in a test tube and mixed together by some faceless scientist. Made to order. The perfect son. Quatre hated it. He hated himself. He hated his father.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Everything was better than him.

He was drowning in self-loathing and he never knew it until that moment. The moment when a tall Arabian pirate slapped him across the face.

Rashid.

Rashid had saved him from drowning.

"Have more pride in yourself!"

Quatre clasped his burning cheek as he stared at the man before him, unable to understand what had just happened. His face felt swollen, tears threatened to spill from eyes that hadn't known a real emotion for years. His first response was shock, his arrogant front managing to squeeze one last insult before collapsing under the dark man's heavy gaze. For the first time, Quatre saw a furious kind of understanding in the eyes of this pirate. His kidnapper stared at him with a pity that made Quatre feel about three feet tall. He didn't want to be stared at like that. Not like he was some spoiled brat.

He was making a stand against his father. To show him that his test tube children could be more than… more than… pre-programmed robots!

Yet those eyes, as they bore into him, searched his soul and were unimpressed by the spoiled child that they found.

"I, too…" the pirate's voice was strong, dignified, cool, "… was born of a test tube."

Quatre gasped as he felt air, fresh air penetrate the murky depths of his heart. He realised then, his hate had been drowning him, turning him into something he didn't like.

Before he could form a response, ask the pirate for more, the taller man turned away and concluded his business with his father. Quatre was forgotten and placed aside. He wandered the ship, avoiding the cheerful men of the pirate. He'd been pulled out of the dark waters of his cold heart, but now didn't know what to do but to paddle alone in the dark.

He watched them, each of them. Smiles, laughter, joking, hard working. All qualities he admired.

They were all born of test tubes.

They were all like him.

Born like him.

They did not hate like him.

/Hate./

Quatrine closed her eyes and shuddered, shaking her head as if that would loose the cold that threatened to drown her. There was so much hate in the battlefield. In the air. She felt hot tears stream down her face. Her heart ached for everything, both the living and the dead. For her child and his lover.

They were all so young, she didn't understand why they had been chosen. They did not deserve to die, not here. Not now. It was so early in their lives and they deserved more than this pitiful death. She clenched her fists. There was nothing she could do from here, except pray to Allah for mercy.

Mercy and for victory.

Her aquamarine eyes shot open and she slammed her fists against the thick window. No. She wasn't going to give up now. She reached out with her heart and found a beat. A rhythm. It pulsed. Quatrine Winner was not going to give up, not until there was nothing left of Earth. She reached out and met this beat with all her heart. Giving her life over to it, and sending as much of her own innate power to the rhythm. Her son. His lover. The others. She felt it surge and seek out other heartbeats to bring into the rhythm.

Giving up was not an option anymore.

She wanted her son to see her.

A bright light flared into life within her heart as her soul cried out to her son.

"See me."

See me! It demanded. See me and be proud of me.

"I am your mother," Quatrine whispered as she clasped her hands over her own space heart, "See me!"

"FIGHT FOR MASTER QUATRE!"

Rashid bellowed, even when he vaguely noticed his radio had died, spluttering inconsistently. His cockpit was in flames but still he fought on. His men were still fighting, the Maganac corps fought bravely. They fought for Master Quatre, for the Earth but also for themselves. They had always fought to get to where they were. When they were alone, when people looked down on them because of their origin of birth, the Maganac corps were formed. Forged. They were forged together, when passion lit in their hearts and demanded that they fight back. That they made themselves as worthy, no—worthier than the 'real' people.

"FIGHT! FIGHT ON!"

Rashid still remembered the painful tone of Master Quatre, desperate for recognition but not realising the hate that was laced in that voice. Rashid had lashed out. Not because he was angry, but he could think of no other way of stopping the boy's path to self-destruction. Too many children thought so little of themselves. Rashid couldn't stand it.

He hit the boy to wake him up.

To make him see himself, standing there like a furious ant. It was like this ant was shaking his fist at the glory of the sun without noticing the beauty and strength of his own self.

Rashid did not know Mister Winner, admired him but, at the same time, hated him. How could he let his own son get to this level of despair? The tall man had listened to the boy, talking about himself as if he was worth nothing more than the test tube he was created in and felt a quiet sort of fury build. Did Mister Winner not take the time to tell his son of his worth? That his very life was worth more than the money in all the Winner accounts? Did it mean nothing to him that his own son was going to destroy himself before he had a chance to even know who he was?

So Rashid struck the boy.

Hard. Across the cheek.

The virgin flesh swelling, reddening immediately.

"Wh-what was that for?"

The boy who had been on such a roll, telling his father about how his 'tool' was acting out alone, that Rashid had had no choice but to act. He needed to show the boy, need to bring the boy down to the ground again. To help him see himself again.

To see the others around him.

"FIGHT! SHOW THEM WHO YOU ARE!"

To have some pride.

To see again.

Quatre was blinded as the slim man before him resorted to dirty tricks. Sand was kicked up, flung in eyes. The broken blades of Quinze's weapons were dropped as the old man scrambled away from Quatre. The former Gundam pilot scrubbed at his teary eyes, trying to get some vision back again. He listened desperately for the man, in case his counterpart regained some courage and tried to attack. Quinze was on the defensive now, which made him even more dangerous.

An arrogant man made mistakes.

A desperate man did not.

Quatre drew a breath. Centred himself.

He could not lose.

His mother.

"See me."

Rashid.

"See again."

The earth.

"Have some pride."

His friends.

"Believe."

His lover.

"See you again."

Himself.

"I'm going to be stronger."

Quinze dragged himself away from the battle, cuts oozing all over his body. He felt betrayed, his opponent was wildly his better. He needed to get someone stronger, someone he could send against the other. He glanced up, the deep glow of the Sesshou cannon turning into a painful star. He grinned a sickly smile, groping his pockets for his radio. The cannon. Why was he wasting his time with this fight when he could have just ordered the cannon to fire!

He was dying anyway; the cannon would see the fate of the earth.

Laughing wildly, he fumbled with the radio, bring it to his foaming mouth and spitting out, "Tsubarov! Fire the cannon! Order the cannon to fire! Stop playing around with your dolls and ORDER THE CANNON!"

Quatre's eyes snapped open and were clear.

Quinze's voice had betrayed him, and the knight of time spread his wings. He could hear every word the older man was cackling, knew he had to stop him. His mother's heart beat had joined with him… he didn't know how, but he felt her. Her love for him empowered him, strengthened his bond, his soul, his space heart. He could feel the heartbeats of his friends, heard the voices of the Maganacs. He sent the words of Quinze on…

… Quatrine smashed her fists against the window, managing to break one of her hands and crack the thick pane at the same time. The doctors behind her hobbled forward, Master O quickly grabbing her and hauling her away. As Doctor J prepared a sedative for her, she took the Dark Knight of Time's order and passed it on…

… Rashid paused as he heard an unfamiliar voice echo in his mind. He knew Quatre had found some way to speak with him. His radio burst into life, as voice of his men filtered through. All asking the same question. "Who was Tsubarov!"

Rashid pounded his controls as he took another hit. His mobile suit was destroyed, it was close to exploding. He slammed his fist down on a control, twisting to grab a sub-machine gun and a spare radio before leaping out of the emergency escape hatch.

"Tsubarov. Tsubarov. Find him. FIND HIM!" Rashid hollered into his radio, running in the general direction of the front line. "Take him down!"

A worthless life.

Quinze noticed this fact as the world seemed to slow down around him. Before him, the sandstorm he'd left the Gundam pilot in roiled at a snail's pace. He tossed his head about and noticed water – the knight of death and his damned father – wind – the nameless pilot and the real Trowa Barton – fire – the two dragons and the two executioners – and above light and darkness – Mercy and Cruelty battling together.

Such a worthless, pitiful life. Quinze reflected. Why had he lived his life like this? What had he died for? What was he fighting for?

He had forgotten everything in that moment.

And in the moment, he felt oddly at peace.

He turned his head to witness the bronzed sands part and the Gundam pilot named Quatre fly toward him on a haze of golden wings. He had expected hate from the boy. Instead, the boy's aquamarine eyes were merciful as he flew past the former white fang leader.

White.

White turned off all the colour in the world.

Nothing but the golden blade.

Nothing but the crimson blood.

Quinze smiled and was freed.

The world tilted.

And fell into white.

"Ah, shut up! This isn't a game!"

Quatre pursed his lips as the men in their mobile suits shouted at him. The alliance had found them, thanks to the traitor Yuda's help. Now was Quatre's only chance to do it. It was his fault that Yuda hadn't been tied tightly enough, his fault that Rashid was injured and now, it was his only chance to gain some real respect from these proud men.

"I want to fight!" He yelled at the massive suits, faintly scared but also angry. He was angry at himself; he needed to prove himself now. "As part of your family! Even I could be…" he trailed off, punching his chest, "NO!" He yelled ferociously, "Let me prove that I am useful! I want to be proud of myself!"

Quatre panted as he skidded to a halt. Behind him, Quinze's head fell from his body and rolled down the sand dune. The boy paused briefly to look up, time had slowed. Only he and Quinze had existed in this frozen moment. He spun to check on his friends.

Above in a blaze of white and black, Solo and Heero were frozen in their flight. To the east, their counterparts had caught Wufei and Meirin; to the west, Duo knelt prone before his father. Before him, Trowa stood defiant against his opponent.

Quatre gasped as his chest contracted heavily, his eyes turning upward, beyond Heero. The Sesshou cannon had been fired. Its blast was suspended above the atmosphere like a deadly sword. Quatre swallowed. He couldn't save his friends and hold back the blast. He needed them to help him. Spreading his wings, Quatre flew up and beyond the battle. He held his hands up and focused entirely on the blast, concentrating all his power on the bolt of awesome power and letting go of his hold on the time below.

"I've got to be strong." He whispered, "Everyone, for everyone… let me prove it now!"

DrM: Apologies for the lateness of this one, the next chapter stubbornly refuse to shed light on itself until this morning. Also, apologies for this cliffhanger... at least, though, it's not on one where the PILOT is about to die... just... the Earth. Okay, maybe it's a slightly BIGGER cliffhanger than before... (runs away) Please Review!