Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, or any of its characters. This is just some fictional story that I came up with while desperate in the south for something to do. Enjoy, and send comments.
Genesis Gundam
Prologue
It was a stupid decision. She told herself that time and time again. There was no way he would want to see her, not after what had happened the last time. To be perfectly honest, she didn't want to see him. It had been Relena's suggestion to come and check on how Quatre was doing. The princess had told her that she owed the boy something, especially after stabbing him. Dorothy frowned as she approached the doorstep; she didn't owe Quatre anything. It had been during a war, for god's sake. The fool had not fought his best, so it was really his fault that he had been stabbed!
She sighed and adjusted her sun hat with one hand; the glare in Arabia was unbearable. Dorothy scowled at the fruit basket she had been made to bring.
"Think of it as an apology gesture!" Relena had said. Dorothy rang the doorbell, and waited patiently. After what seemed an eternity to her, a servant answered the door.
"Is the master of the house at home?" she asked. Just because she didn't like the situation did not mean she didn't have to be polite; it was something her grandfather had taught her years ago.
"…You're that girl from the Libra," the tall bearded man said disdainfully. "You have some nerve coming here."
'It wasn't my idea,' she thought. Instead, she said, "I came to…see how Quatre was holding up."
"I don't think Quatre-sama has time for an audience with someone who tried to kill him," the man replied gruffly.
"…Then at least give him this fruit basket," Dorothy offered. "You don't even have to tell him who it's from." 'Not that I want him to know.'
"Hmph!" And with that, the door was slammed in her face.
"Well, can't say I didn't try," she said carelessly as she turned to leave. A different voice came from behind the door.
"I don't care who it was. There's no need to be so rude as to slam the door in someone's face, Rasid." Quatre, scolding his man for doing what would probably be a favor to both she and the boy alike. The door reopened and she turned back around, a stream of fine blonde hair spinning around her back.
"Dorothy, how nice to see you," Quatre said kindly. He was in khakis and a pink shirt with a lavender vest, and was leaning heavily on a cane. His pale skin was paler, if such a thing were possible; she knew it was because of all the blood he had lost when…
"Likewise, Quatre," she said. He smiled, and beckoned her inside.
"What brings you here?" he asked. She pursed her lips together, and forced the words out.
"I came to see how your recovery was going."
"You did? How considerate." Dorothy could not get over the fact that he seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
"You mean to see the damage you've done," the tall man interjected.
"Rasid, please. And you brought a fruit basket, too. Thank you."
"Likely poisoned," Rasid muttered.
"Rasid!" Quatre hissed, giving the man a reproachful look. He turned back to Dorothy and smiled weakly. "It looks delicious."
"Yes, well…enjoy them." She handed him the basket; he held it awkwardly in one arm and struggled to readjust his weight on the cane. "And now I bid you farewell, Quatre." Dorothy turned to open the door.
"Wait," Quatre said. She stopped, mid-reach for the handle. "You are a long way from home, aren't you?"
"The flight will only be a few hours," she said quietly.
"You just got here. It seems silly to leave so soon." He glanced at the basket. "And I don't think I can eat all this fruit by myself. Why don't you stay a while?"
'This is too strange. Say no. Say. No.'
"Why not?" she sighed, without knowing why. The plan had been to decline, not accept! "I've got no where else to be. I'll stay." The Arabian boy smiled again, and limped off to the kitchen.
"Don't think we won't be watching you," Rasid said as she started to follow. Dorothy turned her head and raised one forked eyebrow coolly.
"I don't blame you. I'd watch me too."
***
Dorothy watched Quatre carefully as she ate her peach. He sat across the table from her, munching on an apple. To be honest, she felt more comfortable with Rasid's scrutiny and suspicion. Why was he being so, well, nice? He hadn't mentioned a thing about the incident on the Libra, had not shot her so much as a disapproving look, and had done nothing but be courteous and sweet. He acted as if nothing had happened. As if they were old friends catching up with one another.
"The doctors say that I'm recovering quickly."
"Then why do you have that?" she asked, gesturing to the cane.
"The doctors are also paranoid," he laughed. "They don't want me exerting myself too much." 'Right. You wouldn't know what exertion was if it hit you in the face,' Dorothy thought with a hint of disgust. This pampered little desert prince exerting himself? It was laughable. "I apologize for Rasid's behavior," the boy said. "He's paranoid too." She shrugged.
"No, he's not. He's smart. He doesn't trust me," she stated indifferently. "He has every reason not to, and so do you.
"Yes, but I do trust you," he told her mildly. Dorothy wrinkled her nose. His sunny disposition was really starting to disgust her. She wished she could be anywhere but sitting at a table across from those wide, trusting eyes.
"Why?" she asked lowly.
"To be honest, I don't know," Quatre admitted. Dorothy began to wonder why it was that she hadn't killed this boy. The idea was tempting, especially now. True, she had left him to die, but why hadn't she just finished the job? Something had stopped her. A twinge in her stomach, if she was remembering correctly. The boy had gotten a few attacks in, yes, but she couldn't remember any to her midriff. "I just do," he said, interrupting her train of thought. She glared at him.
"You shouldn't. Trusting people is going to get you killed one day."
"You didn't kill me," he reminded her. "I'd have thought you of all people would have."
"Baka!" she spat, fed up with both him and herself. "What is wrong with you? You're sitting there, eating fruit with someone who tried to kill you, and who really doesn't like you that much."
Before she could ask herself, Quatre said, "Then…why did you come here?" She didn't really know the answer. She wanted to blame it on Relena, but there was something else. Something that had drawn her here to check on this boy. Angered, she reached across the table and smacked Quatre.
There was a small yellow flash, then both teens were sent flying in opposite directions. Dorothy skidded to a far wall, slamming against it with her shoulder. Quatre, whose wall was closer, sat against it, dazed.
"D-Dorothy!" he exclaimed when he regained his senses. "Are you all right?" Without thinking, he tried to get up. His injured side protested, and he grunted, sinking back down to the floor.
On the other side of the room, Dorothy let out a cry and clutched at her side. The twinge from that fight on the Libra was back tenfold. She felt as though someone was driving a hot poker through her insides. Where was this pain coming from? Why was this happening to her? She looked Quatre's way, and realized he too was holding his side and grimacing.
"Dorothy," he said between gasps. "Can you…can you stand?" He tried to get up again, but had to give up and sit. Dorothy inhaled sharply as the pain assailed her once more.
"Don't move," she told him. There was something going on here. She hurt terribly, and realized her hands were shaking. The boy across the room was also shaking. Slowly, Dorothy rose to her feet. She walked unsteadily across the room, towards Quatre. As she got closer, he shifted to lean against the wall more comfortably. Her knees buckled, and she held her side with both hands. "I said don't move!" Dorothy snapped.
"G-gomen," Quatre said weakly. Crawling now, Dorothy finally made it to where Quatre was sitting. She reached out carefully and poked his stomach; there was another small spark but nothing caused them to repel this time. He hissed and she recoiled when there was a pang in her own middle.
"What's happening to me?" she asked. "Everything that hurts you is hurting me."
"Wh-what?" he said, not understanding. Dorothy narrowed her eyes at him, then decided to try something. She tapped her own tender shoulder, and was not surprised when Quatre winced. "My shoulder, it just…"
"Do you see what I'm saying now?" Dorothy asked, moving to sit next to him. "Something's up."
"Yeah, but what?" he asked.
"If I knew," she said, condescending, "then I would tell you."
"Aa. Sorry."
"And could you try to be in less pain? It's really distracting."
"Sorry," he repeated.
"Baka," she laughed. "You can't do anything about being in pain. Don't apologize for it. And don't apologize for apologizing. I mean it. Or I'll smack you again." Or maybe she wouldn't, since smacking him seemed to lead them into this mess. Now that she thought about it, her cheek stung. Terrific.
"Did you feel anything before you hit me?" he said. She shook her head.
"No. Nothing serious. A little bit of a tick in my side, which was easily ignored. Now, I feel like-"
"Like you were stabbed a while ago and still recovering?"
"…Yes. Exactly," she replied, annoyed. "Okay, let's retrace what happened. I was calling you a fool for letting me come in and sit with you. Then you asked…"
"Why you were here," he said.
"Yes, then I got mad and smacked you."
"Then the light, you felt my pain, and I felt yours. Dorothy, this is starting to scare me."
"Suck it up," she growled. "If we don't figure this out, you'll really have something to be scared of." He thought a moment.
"That light happened again when you poked me. But we didn't go flying that time."
"…What are you getting at?" Quatre held up a hand.
"Give me your hand," he said. She frowned at him, skeptical. "It's the only way to know if I'm right. Like you said, this all started when you smacked me, and it happened again when you poked me. The bottom line is this has something to do with-"
"Touch," she finished. Quatre nodded. Dorothy sighed, and raised her hand level with his. Their palms touched, with another amber flash. In that instant Dorothy got a strange invaded feeling. She yanked her hand away, startled, then realized Quatre looked just as confused.
"What was that?" he asked.
"I have no idea," she said, trying not to appear so afraid. Slowly, Quatre reached out again, and she did the same. This time they held their hands together, despite the light and the feeling.
Nothing at first.
Then, suddenly, her nervous system was on a high; nothing she had ever felt before, nothing she could place or even name. Quatre's thoughts impressed upon her mind, and on some level she knew the same thing was happening to him. Memories, emotions, thoughts, everything hit her at once. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation. It was almost too much, but their palms remained pressed together.
They heard Rasid calling to Quatre, and then his arm was on either one of them. He pried them apart, and they both fell to the floor. Each cried out as the other's injury was jarred. Dorothy was breathing heavily, and Quatre was doing the same.
"S-sugoi," he breathed. Then they both passed out.