Disclaimer: I don't own it, don't sue.
Notes: Once again, I thank all my loyal reviewers, I love you guys, and my charming muses and my buddy Hex.
Fallen
By The 41st Maguanac
Quatre's sleep was far from dreamless. He couldn't count the dozens of times he had had to relive the separation of his wings, the tearing, the blood – oceans of it, which seemed to choke him until he couldn't breathe, it's bitter taste and smell clouding his senses.
He was like a record, stuck in a groove. He went around and around, over the events again and again, but every time, though his heart ached and his chest felt as though it were caving in on itself, and yet… he always made the same decision. He'd hear that voice calling in his head, calling for someone… calling for help.
And he ran. Every time he ran, yet the moment he reached the source of the voice he'd feel a wretched burning course through his back…
Then it all went around again.
***
Trowa was awoken by a sudden sound a few metres from his head. Through reflex he tried to sit up to fast, wincing at the pain which wrenched his chest when he tried to do so. It was late evening; maybe even night… he had no idea how long he'd been sleeping.
He heard it again – a piteous cry from his room mate which caused hi to turn his head to one side, watching as the once comatose boy in the bed beside him thrashed in his sleep. Too much sleep and painkillers seemed to have rotted his brain, and for a moment he just lay there, watching the blonde as he almost brought himself entirely off the bed, arching his back in a way he had only ever seen contortionists at Catherine's circus do it.
"Hey…" mumbled Trowa, easing himself more upright slowly so as not to injure himself again, "Hey, c'mon, wake up!"
Quatre was too many miles away to hear Trowa's calls. Faceless silver clad men surrounded him on all sides, people were laughing, jeering at him… He could see those cold blue eyes again, sentencing him, Duo's crystalline tears as they fell from his eyes.
They closed in on him, more and more tightly until he was sure he'd asphyxiate, he pleaded with them, begged them over and over to let him keep his wings, but it was as though no one heard him. Icy gazes rested on him blankly, his wings crumbled before his eyes even as he tried to touch them…
The blonde patient threw his head back against the pillows, an anguished scream emerging from his throat, which seemed to tear at the very wounds on Trowa's chest. He rested his hands on them, leaning over to try and still the pulsating pain, but nothing seemed to help. //W-what the Hell is happening to me?// It was like he'd been shot again, his wounds felt almost fresh. Breathless with agony, he brought his hand down, slamming it on the bedside table and upsetting a glass of water, causing it to shatter on the floor.
Gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes tightly against the needle like splinters tearing at his chest, he shifted himself to the edge of the bed, dropping on to his hands and knees amongst the little glass shards.
The blonde screamed again in his sleep, tears resulting from his unknown angst trailing down his cheeks even as he dreamt.
The scream skewered its way through Trowa's psyche, dropping on him the full force of years of emotions he'd tried to hide. It was like having his true self revealed to him, to be able to look in a mirror and see all the truths about himself. He didn't want to see… he didn't want to look anymore.
"SHUT UP!!" he roared, covering his ears, "STOP IT!!"
They were taking his wings again… he felt the same strong hands gripping them, those beautiful dove's wings, the only thing he truly treasure… they were tearing, blood scorching its way down his back in rivers. It was as though the wings were rooted in his heart, and the harder they were pulled, the more his chest ached… his entire body ached.
"Please!!" he pleaded in his sleep, "Please don't! I'll give anything, do anything b-but no!" he sobbed pathetically, his crying breathless and hysterical.
Trowa flung back his head before launching himself on to the blonde's bed, his chest in excruciating pain which his body could not even determine anymore. He wrapped his arms around the pale boys shoulders, pulling him more upright, burying his face against his neck. "No more… please no more…" he murmured repeatedly.
There was a voice in the chaos. A calm voice, a sweet voice which seemed to know his name though it didn't speak it. He looked up into the sky, his legs soaked in his own blood, the taunting voices seeming to get further away. He forced himself to jump for the light, feeling weightless even without his wings.
A pair of aquamarine eyes fluttered open, moist from tears, drips tattered against his arms where he'd dislodged them. He recognised the green orbs before him immediately, his heart jumping into his throat.
"TROWA!" he yelled, wrapping his arms tightly around the other young man, burying his face in his hospital robe clad chest, breathing in his sweet earthy scent. Oh, how he had missed it… everything about Trowa.
It was gone. Just as suddenly as it had come, the pain had vanished again, leaving no trace except for a dull ache that was already vacating his chest.
"Wh-wh… how do you know my name?" mumbled Trowa as he looked up at the blonde, laying a hand on his chest. He certainly didn't seem familiar…
//He doesn't know how I am… how could I expect him to? We never even spoke…// "I… I…" the blonde mumbled, "I can't explain right now… I'm sorry," he said as the fingers of sleep began to wrap him up again. He looked up at Trowa panic stricken, "Please, I don't want to!" he pleaded, "Don't let me sleep, I don't want to dream… not again…"
"Shh…" Trowa felt as though he had done this a thousand times before. It went entirely against his nature, about everything he believed, but he found himself wrapping his strong arms about the little sobbing blonde, pulling him against his chest, a protective hand covering the soft blonde hair. "It's… It's all right. You're safe now."
"Don't forget me Trowa…" the young man mumbled, resting uneasily against Trowa's chest until his breathing became steadier, his face pressed against Trowa's neck as he cradled him.
The doctor arrived moments later. "I heard a commotion, is everything all right in here?" he asked quickly, taking in the situation in the room immediately, "Trowa, why on Earth are you out of bed?!" he chided.
"He needed me…" was Trowa's soft reply. "He was crying…"
"Come come, back to bed miracle man. Let the doctors do their jobs and go back to bed… he seems to be all right now," he said, referring to the now peacefully snoozing blonde.
"But I promised him… he isn't meant to sleep, I promised…" Trowa mumbled a little incoherently, as the doctor eased him off the bed and towards his own.
"Now now, I think we need to check your drugs dosage, Barton. Don't you go getting hysterical on me too. Get back to bed and get plenty of rest and you'll be…"
The doctor paused as he lowered Trowa to the bed, pulling back his hands as he felt something warm and wet on them.
Blood.
The doctor withdrew his hands fully, staring at them incredulously. His hands were soaked in it, it was dripping off his fingertips and soaking into his white sleeves. He looked back to Trowa, his eyes for the first time in the dim light finding the source – two massive wounds, one either side of his spine…
"NURSE!!"
***
To Be Continued.