Quatre:
I have recently spoken with Iria and heard of Patrice's actions. I never intended such a thing when I chose to send her to Sank, nor did I know that you had taken refuge there.
Iria informs me that your situation has undergone some changes since we last spoke, but she refuses to give me any specifics, saying that I should talk to you in person. If you can safely make your way to my home from wherever you are hiding, I would very much like to speak with you.
I am pleased to hear that you are in good health, especially since I heard of your escape from the King's custody. While I do not agree with your actions and do not approve, I still wish to speak with you. If you receive this message before winter solstice, I will be at my home. After that I will be traveling around my lands and be out of contact.
I hope I will see you soon.
Lord Winner
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They all watched silently as Quatre sprouted wings and launched himself off the top of the wall. They remained that way until he was out of hearing range, then Duo spoke. "Damn it! I don't like this," he growled. This was the first time they'd split up since he'd joined them, and he really didn't like it. "I just... he shouldn't be doing this? He wouldn't let you come along?" Duo directed his question at Trowa.
Trowa's lips twitched downward, the only outward sign of his unhappiness with the situation. Duo knew how he felt. Quatre hadn't said anything about it, but the carefully chosen words of the letter had hurt him more than an actual verbal attack would have. Not once did he refer to Quatre as 'son' or give any indication that he still felt he had a connection with him. He even referred to the place where Quatre had grown up as 'my home' not our home. Still wish to speak with you, indeed, Duo muttered to himself. He should be grateful that Quatre's willing to speak with him at all, after what he did.
"He said that he needed to take care of this by himself," Trowa said after a moment's hesitation.
"And you let him get away with an answer like that?" Duo demanded. The message had arrived yesterday. Duo hadn't been able to get to Quatre before the messenger - he'd come in while Quatre was reading it. Quatre's face was pale, but not ghost-white, and with that endlessly irritating polite look on it. Without a word he handed over the paper for Trowa and Duo to read. When the finished, he'd quietly announced that he was leaving in the morning, and that he was going alone. No arguments from Duo could change his mind, but when he'd seen Trowa take Quatre off to talk privately, he'd hoped...
"He said that he could take care of himself, and that he had to do this by himself."
"But..." Duo cut off when Trowa raised his one visible eyebrow. "Trowa..." he complained. "You know I hate it when you do that. Use real words. Sentences, even."
"He asked me if I trusted him, if I thought that he could take care of himself, and of I did, then I'd trust his judgment here." Trowa shrugged helplessly.
"Damn it!"
"Why are you so upset?" Heero asked, studying his face.
"I just... this is a bad idea!" Duo exploded, not wanting to voice his fears.
"Why?" Trowa pressed, a worried glint in his eyes at the thought of a threat to Quatre.
"I just..." Duo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I've been having... dreams, but while I was still awake. I'm just standing somewhere and then I'm... not."
"Visions," Trowa said darkly.
"What?" Everyone looked at Trowa, who avoided their eyes.
"Visions. Things that have happened in the past, or will happen in the future. I... I've had some. Quatre's been helping me." He finally looked at Duo. "What do you see? Is Quatre involved?" Unspoken was another question that Duo understood quite clearly - why was Duo getting visions about Quatre?
"Death," Duo said with a shudder. You'd think he'd be used to this by now. "And... it's all tied in to Quatre somehow." He still couldn't bring himself to say all of what he'd seen. Destruction, horrible destruction, and a laughing Quatre behind it all. He had to be seeing something wrong, or misinterpreting it or something. Quatre... killing? It just didn't make any sense.
"Is he in danger?" Trowa asked. To anyone else, he would have appeared callous, as if he didn't care, but Duo was spending a lot of time with my-face-is-a-stone-wall Heero, so he was getting very good at telling a lot from very minute changes. Trowa swallowed once, and his lips were pressed together, and he actually raised his head enough so that he could look at Duo with both eyes. Yup, definitely very worried.
"No, I don't think so," Duo said. He's not in danger. It's everyone around him. "Besides, you were right. Quatre's a big boy. He can take care of himself."
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The sun was setting as Quatre flew right up to his father's balcony, hidden in an illusion of invisibility. He landed, absorbed his wings, and then dropped the illusion. He walked into his father's study and looked around. There was no one in sight. He wondered whether or not he should be relieved, and decided that he didn't really care. He was feeling rather numb right now, and nothing he thought about, not his sisters, not even his father, none of that had enough force to penetrate the emotional haze he was in. Only Trowa made him feel anything solid.
I miss him, Quatre thought, although he knew Trowa was only a thought away, and he'd only left his physical presence two days ago. What am I doing here? I know what he's going to say. He won't change his mind. It will just hurt again. It had been almost six months now since they escaped, six months since he'd seen his father, and he could still remember every word that his father had said to him during his imprisonment. He must have come thirty times or more, and Quatre still remembered every single one of their conversations (arguments) individually. What am I doing here?
He sighed. He was here because, despite everything his father said, he was a dutiful son. His father called, and he came running. That was the way it had always been. Not anymore. Quatre's shoulders stiffened slightly. Something had changed when his father refused to accept that people like him were human. Saying that Trowa was not human was unacceptable to him on a very basic level. Completely unacceptable. And the same was true for the others.
His father didn't know it yet, but Quatre wasn't coming back. Not until after the war, anyway. Not until his father admitted that 'faeries' were people, not some sort of exotic animal. He'd only come back this last time because of the respect he'd had (and still had) for his father. He wanted one last chance to settle things before they entered a war they had little hope of surviving.
His mind made up, Quatre walked through his father's study, opened the door, and walked out into the hall, past a very startled-looking servant that Quatre didn't recognize. He was about to cast his mind out to search for his father when he realized that there was an easier way (well, maybe not easier, but easier to explain) to find him. He turned back to the servant. "Where can I find Lord Winner?"
The man stared at him. "How did you get in there, boy?"
Quatre ignored him. "Where is Lord Winner?" he repeated in a cold tone that demanded a response.
"He's in the lounge on the first floor," the man stammered. "But he's not to be disturbed."
"Thank you very much," Quatre said, and headed downstairs, ignoring the stairs that he was drawing. Or rather, the stares that his obviously-pointed ears were drawing. He recognized some of the faces that he passed, but when none of them spoke to him, he didn't say anything himself. Finally he reached the first-floor lounge, and hesitated. The people in the next room practically radiated arrogance. He'd always been sensitive to other's emotions, but since he got the full use of his powers, those other emotions had become painfully clear. He paused for several seconds, trying to shield himself against the inadvertent mental intrusion. Who was his father talking to?
"Master Quatre?!" gasped the servant standing by the door. Quatre focused on him and realized it was Samir, who'd practically raised him. He'd bathed him when he was little, dressed him when he got older, given him lessons on etiquette... the list went on and on. Quatre swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.
"Not Master Quatre. Just Quatre."
Quatre suddenly found himself in danger of being squeezed to death as Samir wrapped his arms around Quatre. "Oh, it's good to see you again, Master Quatre!"
"It's good to see you too!" Quatre said, smiling at the warmth in Samir's mind, which went a long way to counteracting the emotions coming from the room.
"Oh, Quatre, why did you have to let them catch you?" Samir asked, backing up a step to look at him. Quatre noticed that Samir did not stare at his ears - instead, he was giving him a normal examination for someone who hadn't seen him in over a year. Almost two now, actually. Then he realized something.
"You knew?!" he exclaimed. First Rashid, now Samir... it seemed like everyone knew what he thought had been a well-kept secret. My father was probably the only one who *didn't* know. And what did that say about him?
"I washed you when you were a baby," Samir said, reaching to mess up his hair. "You didn't hide your ears with your hair back then. You're lucky your father didn't look at you too closely back then."
"Yes, I suppose so. May I see him?"
"You might want to wait," Samir advised. "He's in there with all of his vassals and two other Lords." As Samir spoke, the double doors suddenly swung open. Quatre jumped back in time to avoid being hit by the doors. Unfortunately, that left him in plain view of the group of people who were marching out of the lounge. His father was in front, flanked by two powerful Lords, and they were followed by several of his father's top advisors and vassals. Darn it.
His father froze the instant he saw him, causing the other two to turn and look at him. The one on the right looked at him and then smirked. "Well, I see the rumors were true. You fathered an animal."
Quatre wanted right then to do something destructive. Well, not destructive, maybe, but he would have had no problems stripping the man naked and then dumping him in the middle of the court. He couldn't do that, though, so he did the only thing he could think of - he raised his head and stared directly at the man for several seconds before sniffing slightly and letting his eyes slide past him, as if he was too insignificant to notice. The man stiffened in anger, and Quatre could see that he was torn between wanting to hit him and not wanting to acknowledge him at all.
The second Lord solved his dilemma by walking around Quatre in a slow circle, examining him like he was a horse. "You know, I never thought I'd see one of these creatures myself."
That did it. Without really thinking about it, Quatre opened himself to his power and light danced in the air around him. "Yes, Renold?" he asked, disregarding the 'Lord' title. "You were saying?"
Lord Renold, who owned most of the land along the southern border of Sank, backed up several steps, a look of terror on his face. He wasn't the bravest of people, Quatre observed. "You're bluffing, boy," he said. "Faeries are harmless."
Quatre made a slight motion with his hand, and Renold rose several inches off the floor. I really shouldn't strip him naked, Quatre thought regretfully. "You know, in the old days, mages were a force to be reckoned with," he said in a conversational tone. "And they will be again, quite soon. You might want to keep that in mind." He put Renold down, then conjured both him and the other Lord outside - to the stables.
"Leave us. Now."
Quatre lowered his head slightly as all of his father's assistants and vassals filed past him, trying not to look at him. When they were out of hearing range, he raised his head and looked at his father. He looked almost the same as he had the last time he'd seen him, a little less than a year ago. "Lord Winner," he said with a slight inclination of his head. Lord Winner. Not Father.
"I left strict instructions for the guards at the gate to escort you to my office when you arrived," he said, a furious scowl on his face. "Why didn't you obey me?"
"I didn't come through the gate," Quatre said calmly.
"What?"
"I flew. I landed on the balcony of your office."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Quatre frowned and lowered his head even farther. "I've never lied to you, Fa... Lord Winner."
"Oh, so it's Lord Winner now, is it? You really think you're serious about disinheriting yourself, don't you?"
Quatre stiffened with anger, although he was too well-trained to show it. "I am serious, Lord Winner. I thought that was made clear when I was locked up as some sort of dangerous animal. You wouldn't want a dangerous animal inheriting your position, would you?" he asked rudely.
"You're not an animal, Quatre," his father said softly. It was the first time he'd said his name. "I never thought that you weren't, and I never listened to anyone who said differently."
"Not me. Just my friends, my kind."
"Your species, you mean," his father said, angry that he hadn't accepted his (sort of) apology. But his father was *wrong* about this - mages weren't another species, and he wasn't the exception - they were all people.
"My people," he repeated quietly but firmly. "We're mages, we aren't another species. And I only came back to say goodbye."
That got his father's attention. "What?!"
Quatre swallowed. This was not easy, and the pained look of betrayal in his father's eyes was not making this easier. "I have a destiny, father. There is a great danger coming, and we have to defend..." Quatre trailed off as he saw the disbelief in his father's eyes.
"You've always been a disobedient son," he said, shaking his eyes. "Maybe that was because of what you are. But you've never lied to me before."
Quatre closed his eyes. This was worse than he ever could have expected. "Father, I..."
"I don't want to talk about this right now, Quatre," his father said, turning his head away. "You may stay in your former quarters. We can... discuss... this in the morning."
Discuss. That means that he lectures, and I'm supposed to agree with him, like a dutiful son. But I can't do that, I can't be a dutiful son about this. And I have to leave tomorrow. It's not safe for us to be apart - if the attack comes early, we have to be together. I will leave tomorrow. But Quatre didn't tell any of this to his father. He simply nodded his agreement to the orders, not even attempting to meet his father's eyes. A few seconds later his father was gone, and he walked back to his room by himself.
He closed the door behind him and looked around. His room was untouched - well, there had to have been some people in here to clean it because there wasn't any dust, but it looked exactly the way he'd left it when he decided to go down to the market with his father that fateful day. He sat down on the bed, surprised at how soft it was. After two years of sleeping either in captivity or on the move (except for the time in Relena's castle), it was almost *too* soft.
Quatre stared into space for a minute as he debated whether or not to go through the house and see a few of the servants he'd called friends. This might be his last chance to see them. On the other hand, if any of them didn't like him anymore, because of what he was, he didn't want to know. And he was tired - it had been a long flight. Quatre was somewhat amused that the fact that his father had practically ordered him to stay in here didn't have any impact whatsoever on his decision.
Quatre was still undecided when a glimmer of light reflecting off of something caught his attention. Curious, he stood up and walked over. It looked like something was planted in the wall next to the door to the bathing chambers. He made a mage light to illuminate the room, and gasped, taking a step back, his eyes fixed on the iron ring that was set into the wall. For a moment, an image of himself, the damned collar still around his neck, pitifully trying to maneuver around the room with a long chain attached to the collar, sprang to mind. The image was so strong that he could almost feel the collar around his throat. These four walls for the rest of my life... He shuddered, called on his power to strengthen himself, then grabbed the ring and ripped it out of the wall. He got a strange satisfaction from the destructive action. He took the ring and threw it off the balcony, listening with satisfaction as it clanged against the cobblestones far below. Maybe he'd bent the thing out of shape. He hoped so.
Quatre abruptly decided that he didn't want to think anymore, and collapsed across his bed. He put himself into a deep trance, to make sure that he didn't dream, and surrendered himself to oblivion.
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"You're sure it's the one we're looking for?"
"Positive. The fool revealed himself to be far more powerful than a normal faery, and he matches the description. He has to be the one."
"All right, when do we move?"
"A few hours after midnight. That way we can take out the guards right after they change shifts, and we'll have several hours to find him."
"Alive."
"Yeah, we have to keep him alive. The Lady said that she'd kill the person who killed him."
"Yeah, I heard that. I don't think she was kidding."
"Is she ever kidding?"
"Good point. So, the boy's off-limits?"
"Just don't kill him, anything else is fine. He can heal himself pretty quick. And anyone else is fair game - if they get in the way, take them down. Got it?"
"Got it. I've already explained to the men, they know what to do."
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Quatre suddenly came out of his trance, his entire body tingling. What... Quatre was not and had never been a morning person, and it usually took his brain a full twenty minutes to begin functioning after he woke up. Today, he was having no such problems. The fact that it wasn't morning, but still in the middle of the night might have had something to do with it. Or it might have been the way every single one of his senses was screaming 'danger' at him.
Without really thinking about it, Quatre conjured his sword to his hand and rolled out of bed. He was still dressed, having gotten out of the habit of wearing nightclothes, a fact for which he was now grateful. The danger, whatever it was, was *close* and he didn't want to waste any time. He pulled on his boots and quietly slid up to the door, listening. Despite what the others thought about him, he wasn't completely helpless when it came to defending himself, even without magic, and he wasn't about to go throwing his door open when he knew there was something dangerous out there.
He didn't hear anything, so he cracked the door open. It was dark in the hall - too dark, there were usually at least a few candles burning at all times. He frowned slightly - there was still no real evidence that there was anything wrong - someone could have just forgotten to put out the candles tonight. But the danger buzzing in his bones refused to let him believe that. He began to walk down the hall when suddenly his foot caught on something when there should have been only a clean hall. Quatre barely managed to keep himself from falling. When he regained his balance, he dropped to one knee and felt around in the darkness. The first thing he felt was a sticky moisture. He raised his hand to his nose and smelled something metallic. Blood. Quatre swallowed several times and then reached around again, knowing what he was going to find. The aura in this portion of the hall was almost choking him, and he wouldn't have that sort of reaction from anything but the killing of another person. In a few seconds he found what he'd been looking for - a body.
Quatre decided to risk using a little magic, and made a very faint mage-light, the brightest he could stand without worrying about it blinding him, now that his eyes were adjusted to the darkness. He still blinked several times to clear his eyes, then bit his lip as he saw the body in front of him. An elderly man in servant's clothes, a large hole in his back, lay on the ground in front of him. Quatre had seen death before, and it always hit him hard, especially when there was a chance that he could have helped the person. This was not one of those cases - whoever had killed this man had stabbed him and hit the heart. Death would have been near instantaneous. That didn't make it any easier to take. Who had killed him and why?
He was about to extend his senses outward when the danger around him escalated and he threw himself to the side as pain exploded from his shoulder. He stumbled backwards, then fled back to the relative safety of his room, trying to ignore the pain and the arrow protruding from his shoulder. As he pushed the door closed, he heard someone say, "Idiot! That was him! We need that one alive!"
That was him... Quatre froze. They were looking for him! It was obvious that somehow his father's castle had been invaded, and by people who were trying to catch him! It was his fault that the servant was dead! Quatre cast his mind outward and was horrified by what he found - all around the castle, people were dead and dying. The only conscious minds he could sense belonged to the enemy, whoever they were, and they were all looking for him.
Quatre gritted his teeth and grasped the shaft of the arrow buried in his shoulder. He muttered to himself for a moment, then sighed in relief as it dissolved under his touch, point and all. He quickly healed himself. :Trowa?:
:Quatre...: Quatre momentarily felt the link between them strengthen, then Trowa continued, :You were shot! What's happening there?: His mental voice was colored with emotions that were never present in his normal speaking voice.
:I don't know. There are people here - they look like commoners, but they know how to fight. They're slaughtering everyone, and they're looking for me...:
:Get out of there!: Trowa ordered urgently, but Quatre's mind was already moving on. He suddenly realized that among the minds he had not sensed was his father's.
:I have to find my father!: Quatre cried, and cut off the contact before Trowa could protest. Quatre concentrated on his father's room - it wasn't that far away, he should be able to conjure himself there and avoid the men entirely. He concentrated, called in his power... and then nearly blacked out as it unexpectedly lashed back on him. He dropped to his knees. What was that?! He cast his mind out and felt a sort of haze over the entire castle. It was a subtle thing, which was why he didn't notice it before, and it seemed that the only purpose of the spell was to keep him from conjuring himself while he was in the castle.
He snorted in disgust. What was that supposed to do? It wasn't like he couldn't fly off if he wanted, or cast an illusion of invisibility, or... the list went on and on. This was an inconvenience, nothing more. But he had to get to his father.
Normally he'd just cloak himself in an illusion, but he was angry, and he wanted to get to his father the by the direct method. It was obvious that they already knew who and what he was, so he might as well show them exactly what he was capable of. He sheathed the sword at his hip and opened the door, throwing a mage shield up around himself at the same time. Good thing, because as he did so, another arrow impacted off the shield, and it had been headed directly for his head.
"You idiot! Alive, remember?"
That reminded Quatre of the body lying in the corridor outside his room, and with a growled word, he made a half-dozen bright mage-lights. The corridor was suddenly illuminated more brightly than during the day, and the men cried out, covering their eyes. Quatre smiled grimly, and with a thought sent both of the men flying. He started walking down the hall towards his father's room, but stopped when he felt something stirring in the next room over. He blasted the doors out of his way, his power ready, but he restrained himself - barely - when he saw the body of a young woman lying on the bed. No, not a body, she was merely unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief - they weren't killing everyone, so his father had to still be alive. They wouldn't have killed the Lord of the house if they could avoid it.
Quatre walked back into the hall. He walked past the men, who were still lying there, unconscious, and threw up another shield around himself as several more men, also dressed in peasant's clothes, came running up to him. The way they handled the weapons in their hand indicated that they were something other than farmers, however. A simple push with his mind and they also collapsed to the floor. Quatre ignored them. He had to get to his father.
He walked through the halls, but before just before he reached his father's room, he heard a muffled sound. Weeping. His heart jumped up into his throat, but he swallowed and walked the last few steps. It was dark in this room but the mage light that was following him quickly illuminated the scene. His sister, Iria, crouched over their father's still body. Samir, sprawled on the floor just beyond him. He could sense only one life in the room. Father...
"What happened?" he asked softly, although he already knew the answer to his question.
"They came in here... they were looking for you, they demanded that he turn you over to them... He refused..." Iria told him between her tears. "Samir tried to protect him... they killed them both. They weren't even armed!"
Dead. My father's dead... they were looking for me... my father's dead, Samir is dead... they wanted me... they're all dead... if it wasn't for me, this wouldn't have happened... my father's dead, because they wanted me... my father's dead...
It's my fault. The thought crashed into him like a sledgehammer. It was his fault that his father was dead, his fault that Samir was dead, his fault that they all were dead... For a moment he thought that the grief would crush him. Then he felt the killers - three of them - coming up behind them and something crystallized in his mind. It's their fault.
Without thinking about what he was doing, without even turning around, he killed the men who were sneaking up behind them, simply snuffing out their lives. The bodies dropped to the floor behind him, and he smiled. His mind flew away from his body, and he located all of the other soldiers running around the castle - because that's what they were, Oz soldiers, he noted with an oddly detached portion of his mind - and killed them all as well. Actually all of his mind was somewhat detached. He felt his power rising around him, and in some corner of his mind that was not in this detached state, he heard something screaming as he lost control of his powers, as they rose to engulf him.
He saw a brief glimpse of wonder, fear, then horror on Iria's face as he began to laugh. His father was dead. He'd killed some of those who were responsible, but not all of them. He would have to fix that. He had the power to deal with everyone who was responsible.
And he would.
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Trowa suddenly cried out and dropped to his knees, his hands pressed against his temples. Duo stared at him in horror, then felt all the blood drain out of his face as he felt *something* travel down the link that he had with Quatre. Intense emotional pain, followed by even more intense anger and hatred, and then... nothing. He couldn't feel anything through the link - he could tell Quatre was still alive, but that was it. He couldn't hear anything, and he couldn't reach Quatre's mind.
"Trowa..." Duo said unsteadily, not sure of what had just happened but sure that he didn't like it, and equally certain that Trowa knew what was going on. "What happened? Where's Quatre?" he asked as Duo and Wufei suddenly appeared, conjuring themselves in from wherever they'd been.
"He's gone," Trowa said in a short, tight voice.
"What do you mean, gone?" Duo asked. "I can still feel him. He can't be..." Duo couldn't bring himself to say the word. No, not Quatre. He can't be dead. Thanatos said that I wasn't cursed. *Heero* said I wasn't cursed. He can't be dead.
"Not dead," Trowa said, apparently knowing what was going through his mind. Well, it didn't take a genius to see where his mind usually went. "Alive... but it's not Quatre anymore." He shook his head, and for a moment nearly unbearable pain flashed in his eyes before they returned to their normal blank state.
"What do you mean? What happened?" Duo repeated.
"By the gods," Wufei muttered, and Duo looked at him. Wufei was staring off into space, or so it seemed, until Duo noticed that Wufei happened to be looking at where Quatre was (or had been). Sure, he was a couple of hundred miles away, but Duo doubted that meant anything to Wufei when he was using his powers. "He's let his power consume him. He's not in control." There was more than a hint of horror in his voice, and no derision, which was unusual. Or maybe he was just shocked by the horror of the situation. All of their predecessors had warned them about this, about how the power could feed on you, take control of your body and then use it... Duo shuddered.
"What happened?" he asked one more time.
"His father. Dead. He woke up, and there were people in his home - it was a trap for him... I told him to get out of there, but he said he had to help his father. He blocked me out, and then..."
"They killed his father?" Duo asked in a whisper.
"He found the body and something just... changed inside of him. I can feel it. He killed the men who were in his home - all of them. And he's not going to stop there."
"Quatre killed them?" Duo said, trying to imagine Quatre even *hurting* anyone. Sure, Rashid had told him that Quatre had fought beside them, had had blood on his sword, the same as everyone else, but he still couldn't see it. "It was in self-defense... right?"
Trowa shook his head. "He used his power. Or his power used him. He killed them with a thought. All of them."
Duo stifled a curse. No, not him. If he ever comes out of this, he'll never forgive himself. "So what do we do?" he asked, not really expecting anyone to have an answer.
"We have to stop him," Heero said, deadly serious.
"How?" By then, Duo knew his lover's mind well enough to see where this was going. "No," he said, shaking his head and backing up a step. "No. We can't do that. Not to Quatre. Heero..."
"He has to be stopped. He's going to continue to kill. I can feel it."
"He has to be stopped, he doesn't have to be killed," Wufei interjected, and Duo saw Trowa actually flinch. An actual visible emotion on Trowa's face. This was bad. "If we can break him out of the cycle, he might be able to get control of himself. We still need him to fight... But he cannot be allowed to remain this way." Wufei was avoiding looking at Trowa.
Duo didn't want to look at him either, but he was standing there facing him - not looking at him would be pretty obvious. So he could very clearly see the conflicting emotions - yes, emotions - in Trowa's eyes, although his expression didn't change. Duo also saw - and felt - when Trowa suddenly shut down, shoving back all emotions and blocking out his link with them until Duo could barely feel him, much less reach his mind. He straightened, his eyes vacant once more. "Whatever needs to be done," he said quietly, sounding determined.
"Don't worry, Tro, we'll get him back," Duo said, trying to sound confident, failing miserably, and realizing it. Shit. Not them. Not Quatre and Trowa. If we have to... to kill Quatre, we might as well bury Trowa with him. Fuck. Why them? They're so sweet together... fuck!
Trowa gazed at him evenly and didn't say anything.
Heero looked at Wufei. "Can you track him?"
Wufei's gaze into space sharpened for a moment, then he shook his head. "He... It's blocking me. Maybe if we go to his home, I can pick up the trail from there." He arched his back and his wings snapped out, and the others quickly followed suit.
Trowa took off first, and Duo just stared after him for a moment, and glanced at Heero, whose expression was unreadable. Wufei cleared his throat and the three of them took off after Trowa. They had to find Quatre and bring him back, it was as simple as that. Because despite everything, Duo was still thinking. When you got used to crap happening as an everyday occurrence in your life, it left you better able to deal with it. So he remembered that they needed Quatre alive for a reason other than Trowa's love life - they needed all five of them to defend the planet.
For a second he wondered if this... attack against Quatre had somehow been involved, a ruse to split them up, but... no, it couldn't be. Treize was just up to his old tricks. Right?
All right. A sort-of cliffhanger. This was a really difficult section to write - I do not like writing from the perspective of someone who is going insane during the section I'm writing. Ugh. Hope it comes across all right. C&C welcome.
I have recently spoken with Iria and heard of Patrice's actions. I never intended such a thing when I chose to send her to Sank, nor did I know that you had taken refuge there.
Iria informs me that your situation has undergone some changes since we last spoke, but she refuses to give me any specifics, saying that I should talk to you in person. If you can safely make your way to my home from wherever you are hiding, I would very much like to speak with you.
I am pleased to hear that you are in good health, especially since I heard of your escape from the King's custody. While I do not agree with your actions and do not approve, I still wish to speak with you. If you receive this message before winter solstice, I will be at my home. After that I will be traveling around my lands and be out of contact.
I hope I will see you soon.
Lord Winner
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They all watched silently as Quatre sprouted wings and launched himself off the top of the wall. They remained that way until he was out of hearing range, then Duo spoke. "Damn it! I don't like this," he growled. This was the first time they'd split up since he'd joined them, and he really didn't like it. "I just... he shouldn't be doing this? He wouldn't let you come along?" Duo directed his question at Trowa.
Trowa's lips twitched downward, the only outward sign of his unhappiness with the situation. Duo knew how he felt. Quatre hadn't said anything about it, but the carefully chosen words of the letter had hurt him more than an actual verbal attack would have. Not once did he refer to Quatre as 'son' or give any indication that he still felt he had a connection with him. He even referred to the place where Quatre had grown up as 'my home' not our home. Still wish to speak with you, indeed, Duo muttered to himself. He should be grateful that Quatre's willing to speak with him at all, after what he did.
"He said that he needed to take care of this by himself," Trowa said after a moment's hesitation.
"And you let him get away with an answer like that?" Duo demanded. The message had arrived yesterday. Duo hadn't been able to get to Quatre before the messenger - he'd come in while Quatre was reading it. Quatre's face was pale, but not ghost-white, and with that endlessly irritating polite look on it. Without a word he handed over the paper for Trowa and Duo to read. When the finished, he'd quietly announced that he was leaving in the morning, and that he was going alone. No arguments from Duo could change his mind, but when he'd seen Trowa take Quatre off to talk privately, he'd hoped...
"He said that he could take care of himself, and that he had to do this by himself."
"But..." Duo cut off when Trowa raised his one visible eyebrow. "Trowa..." he complained. "You know I hate it when you do that. Use real words. Sentences, even."
"He asked me if I trusted him, if I thought that he could take care of himself, and of I did, then I'd trust his judgment here." Trowa shrugged helplessly.
"Damn it!"
"Why are you so upset?" Heero asked, studying his face.
"I just... this is a bad idea!" Duo exploded, not wanting to voice his fears.
"Why?" Trowa pressed, a worried glint in his eyes at the thought of a threat to Quatre.
"I just..." Duo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I've been having... dreams, but while I was still awake. I'm just standing somewhere and then I'm... not."
"Visions," Trowa said darkly.
"What?" Everyone looked at Trowa, who avoided their eyes.
"Visions. Things that have happened in the past, or will happen in the future. I... I've had some. Quatre's been helping me." He finally looked at Duo. "What do you see? Is Quatre involved?" Unspoken was another question that Duo understood quite clearly - why was Duo getting visions about Quatre?
"Death," Duo said with a shudder. You'd think he'd be used to this by now. "And... it's all tied in to Quatre somehow." He still couldn't bring himself to say all of what he'd seen. Destruction, horrible destruction, and a laughing Quatre behind it all. He had to be seeing something wrong, or misinterpreting it or something. Quatre... killing? It just didn't make any sense.
"Is he in danger?" Trowa asked. To anyone else, he would have appeared callous, as if he didn't care, but Duo was spending a lot of time with my-face-is-a-stone-wall Heero, so he was getting very good at telling a lot from very minute changes. Trowa swallowed once, and his lips were pressed together, and he actually raised his head enough so that he could look at Duo with both eyes. Yup, definitely very worried.
"No, I don't think so," Duo said. He's not in danger. It's everyone around him. "Besides, you were right. Quatre's a big boy. He can take care of himself."
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The sun was setting as Quatre flew right up to his father's balcony, hidden in an illusion of invisibility. He landed, absorbed his wings, and then dropped the illusion. He walked into his father's study and looked around. There was no one in sight. He wondered whether or not he should be relieved, and decided that he didn't really care. He was feeling rather numb right now, and nothing he thought about, not his sisters, not even his father, none of that had enough force to penetrate the emotional haze he was in. Only Trowa made him feel anything solid.
I miss him, Quatre thought, although he knew Trowa was only a thought away, and he'd only left his physical presence two days ago. What am I doing here? I know what he's going to say. He won't change his mind. It will just hurt again. It had been almost six months now since they escaped, six months since he'd seen his father, and he could still remember every word that his father had said to him during his imprisonment. He must have come thirty times or more, and Quatre still remembered every single one of their conversations (arguments) individually. What am I doing here?
He sighed. He was here because, despite everything his father said, he was a dutiful son. His father called, and he came running. That was the way it had always been. Not anymore. Quatre's shoulders stiffened slightly. Something had changed when his father refused to accept that people like him were human. Saying that Trowa was not human was unacceptable to him on a very basic level. Completely unacceptable. And the same was true for the others.
His father didn't know it yet, but Quatre wasn't coming back. Not until after the war, anyway. Not until his father admitted that 'faeries' were people, not some sort of exotic animal. He'd only come back this last time because of the respect he'd had (and still had) for his father. He wanted one last chance to settle things before they entered a war they had little hope of surviving.
His mind made up, Quatre walked through his father's study, opened the door, and walked out into the hall, past a very startled-looking servant that Quatre didn't recognize. He was about to cast his mind out to search for his father when he realized that there was an easier way (well, maybe not easier, but easier to explain) to find him. He turned back to the servant. "Where can I find Lord Winner?"
The man stared at him. "How did you get in there, boy?"
Quatre ignored him. "Where is Lord Winner?" he repeated in a cold tone that demanded a response.
"He's in the lounge on the first floor," the man stammered. "But he's not to be disturbed."
"Thank you very much," Quatre said, and headed downstairs, ignoring the stairs that he was drawing. Or rather, the stares that his obviously-pointed ears were drawing. He recognized some of the faces that he passed, but when none of them spoke to him, he didn't say anything himself. Finally he reached the first-floor lounge, and hesitated. The people in the next room practically radiated arrogance. He'd always been sensitive to other's emotions, but since he got the full use of his powers, those other emotions had become painfully clear. He paused for several seconds, trying to shield himself against the inadvertent mental intrusion. Who was his father talking to?
"Master Quatre?!" gasped the servant standing by the door. Quatre focused on him and realized it was Samir, who'd practically raised him. He'd bathed him when he was little, dressed him when he got older, given him lessons on etiquette... the list went on and on. Quatre swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.
"Not Master Quatre. Just Quatre."
Quatre suddenly found himself in danger of being squeezed to death as Samir wrapped his arms around Quatre. "Oh, it's good to see you again, Master Quatre!"
"It's good to see you too!" Quatre said, smiling at the warmth in Samir's mind, which went a long way to counteracting the emotions coming from the room.
"Oh, Quatre, why did you have to let them catch you?" Samir asked, backing up a step to look at him. Quatre noticed that Samir did not stare at his ears - instead, he was giving him a normal examination for someone who hadn't seen him in over a year. Almost two now, actually. Then he realized something.
"You knew?!" he exclaimed. First Rashid, now Samir... it seemed like everyone knew what he thought had been a well-kept secret. My father was probably the only one who *didn't* know. And what did that say about him?
"I washed you when you were a baby," Samir said, reaching to mess up his hair. "You didn't hide your ears with your hair back then. You're lucky your father didn't look at you too closely back then."
"Yes, I suppose so. May I see him?"
"You might want to wait," Samir advised. "He's in there with all of his vassals and two other Lords." As Samir spoke, the double doors suddenly swung open. Quatre jumped back in time to avoid being hit by the doors. Unfortunately, that left him in plain view of the group of people who were marching out of the lounge. His father was in front, flanked by two powerful Lords, and they were followed by several of his father's top advisors and vassals. Darn it.
His father froze the instant he saw him, causing the other two to turn and look at him. The one on the right looked at him and then smirked. "Well, I see the rumors were true. You fathered an animal."
Quatre wanted right then to do something destructive. Well, not destructive, maybe, but he would have had no problems stripping the man naked and then dumping him in the middle of the court. He couldn't do that, though, so he did the only thing he could think of - he raised his head and stared directly at the man for several seconds before sniffing slightly and letting his eyes slide past him, as if he was too insignificant to notice. The man stiffened in anger, and Quatre could see that he was torn between wanting to hit him and not wanting to acknowledge him at all.
The second Lord solved his dilemma by walking around Quatre in a slow circle, examining him like he was a horse. "You know, I never thought I'd see one of these creatures myself."
That did it. Without really thinking about it, Quatre opened himself to his power and light danced in the air around him. "Yes, Renold?" he asked, disregarding the 'Lord' title. "You were saying?"
Lord Renold, who owned most of the land along the southern border of Sank, backed up several steps, a look of terror on his face. He wasn't the bravest of people, Quatre observed. "You're bluffing, boy," he said. "Faeries are harmless."
Quatre made a slight motion with his hand, and Renold rose several inches off the floor. I really shouldn't strip him naked, Quatre thought regretfully. "You know, in the old days, mages were a force to be reckoned with," he said in a conversational tone. "And they will be again, quite soon. You might want to keep that in mind." He put Renold down, then conjured both him and the other Lord outside - to the stables.
"Leave us. Now."
Quatre lowered his head slightly as all of his father's assistants and vassals filed past him, trying not to look at him. When they were out of hearing range, he raised his head and looked at his father. He looked almost the same as he had the last time he'd seen him, a little less than a year ago. "Lord Winner," he said with a slight inclination of his head. Lord Winner. Not Father.
"I left strict instructions for the guards at the gate to escort you to my office when you arrived," he said, a furious scowl on his face. "Why didn't you obey me?"
"I didn't come through the gate," Quatre said calmly.
"What?"
"I flew. I landed on the balcony of your office."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Quatre frowned and lowered his head even farther. "I've never lied to you, Fa... Lord Winner."
"Oh, so it's Lord Winner now, is it? You really think you're serious about disinheriting yourself, don't you?"
Quatre stiffened with anger, although he was too well-trained to show it. "I am serious, Lord Winner. I thought that was made clear when I was locked up as some sort of dangerous animal. You wouldn't want a dangerous animal inheriting your position, would you?" he asked rudely.
"You're not an animal, Quatre," his father said softly. It was the first time he'd said his name. "I never thought that you weren't, and I never listened to anyone who said differently."
"Not me. Just my friends, my kind."
"Your species, you mean," his father said, angry that he hadn't accepted his (sort of) apology. But his father was *wrong* about this - mages weren't another species, and he wasn't the exception - they were all people.
"My people," he repeated quietly but firmly. "We're mages, we aren't another species. And I only came back to say goodbye."
That got his father's attention. "What?!"
Quatre swallowed. This was not easy, and the pained look of betrayal in his father's eyes was not making this easier. "I have a destiny, father. There is a great danger coming, and we have to defend..." Quatre trailed off as he saw the disbelief in his father's eyes.
"You've always been a disobedient son," he said, shaking his eyes. "Maybe that was because of what you are. But you've never lied to me before."
Quatre closed his eyes. This was worse than he ever could have expected. "Father, I..."
"I don't want to talk about this right now, Quatre," his father said, turning his head away. "You may stay in your former quarters. We can... discuss... this in the morning."
Discuss. That means that he lectures, and I'm supposed to agree with him, like a dutiful son. But I can't do that, I can't be a dutiful son about this. And I have to leave tomorrow. It's not safe for us to be apart - if the attack comes early, we have to be together. I will leave tomorrow. But Quatre didn't tell any of this to his father. He simply nodded his agreement to the orders, not even attempting to meet his father's eyes. A few seconds later his father was gone, and he walked back to his room by himself.
He closed the door behind him and looked around. His room was untouched - well, there had to have been some people in here to clean it because there wasn't any dust, but it looked exactly the way he'd left it when he decided to go down to the market with his father that fateful day. He sat down on the bed, surprised at how soft it was. After two years of sleeping either in captivity or on the move (except for the time in Relena's castle), it was almost *too* soft.
Quatre stared into space for a minute as he debated whether or not to go through the house and see a few of the servants he'd called friends. This might be his last chance to see them. On the other hand, if any of them didn't like him anymore, because of what he was, he didn't want to know. And he was tired - it had been a long flight. Quatre was somewhat amused that the fact that his father had practically ordered him to stay in here didn't have any impact whatsoever on his decision.
Quatre was still undecided when a glimmer of light reflecting off of something caught his attention. Curious, he stood up and walked over. It looked like something was planted in the wall next to the door to the bathing chambers. He made a mage light to illuminate the room, and gasped, taking a step back, his eyes fixed on the iron ring that was set into the wall. For a moment, an image of himself, the damned collar still around his neck, pitifully trying to maneuver around the room with a long chain attached to the collar, sprang to mind. The image was so strong that he could almost feel the collar around his throat. These four walls for the rest of my life... He shuddered, called on his power to strengthen himself, then grabbed the ring and ripped it out of the wall. He got a strange satisfaction from the destructive action. He took the ring and threw it off the balcony, listening with satisfaction as it clanged against the cobblestones far below. Maybe he'd bent the thing out of shape. He hoped so.
Quatre abruptly decided that he didn't want to think anymore, and collapsed across his bed. He put himself into a deep trance, to make sure that he didn't dream, and surrendered himself to oblivion.
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"You're sure it's the one we're looking for?"
"Positive. The fool revealed himself to be far more powerful than a normal faery, and he matches the description. He has to be the one."
"All right, when do we move?"
"A few hours after midnight. That way we can take out the guards right after they change shifts, and we'll have several hours to find him."
"Alive."
"Yeah, we have to keep him alive. The Lady said that she'd kill the person who killed him."
"Yeah, I heard that. I don't think she was kidding."
"Is she ever kidding?"
"Good point. So, the boy's off-limits?"
"Just don't kill him, anything else is fine. He can heal himself pretty quick. And anyone else is fair game - if they get in the way, take them down. Got it?"
"Got it. I've already explained to the men, they know what to do."
--------------------------------
Quatre suddenly came out of his trance, his entire body tingling. What... Quatre was not and had never been a morning person, and it usually took his brain a full twenty minutes to begin functioning after he woke up. Today, he was having no such problems. The fact that it wasn't morning, but still in the middle of the night might have had something to do with it. Or it might have been the way every single one of his senses was screaming 'danger' at him.
Without really thinking about it, Quatre conjured his sword to his hand and rolled out of bed. He was still dressed, having gotten out of the habit of wearing nightclothes, a fact for which he was now grateful. The danger, whatever it was, was *close* and he didn't want to waste any time. He pulled on his boots and quietly slid up to the door, listening. Despite what the others thought about him, he wasn't completely helpless when it came to defending himself, even without magic, and he wasn't about to go throwing his door open when he knew there was something dangerous out there.
He didn't hear anything, so he cracked the door open. It was dark in the hall - too dark, there were usually at least a few candles burning at all times. He frowned slightly - there was still no real evidence that there was anything wrong - someone could have just forgotten to put out the candles tonight. But the danger buzzing in his bones refused to let him believe that. He began to walk down the hall when suddenly his foot caught on something when there should have been only a clean hall. Quatre barely managed to keep himself from falling. When he regained his balance, he dropped to one knee and felt around in the darkness. The first thing he felt was a sticky moisture. He raised his hand to his nose and smelled something metallic. Blood. Quatre swallowed several times and then reached around again, knowing what he was going to find. The aura in this portion of the hall was almost choking him, and he wouldn't have that sort of reaction from anything but the killing of another person. In a few seconds he found what he'd been looking for - a body.
Quatre decided to risk using a little magic, and made a very faint mage-light, the brightest he could stand without worrying about it blinding him, now that his eyes were adjusted to the darkness. He still blinked several times to clear his eyes, then bit his lip as he saw the body in front of him. An elderly man in servant's clothes, a large hole in his back, lay on the ground in front of him. Quatre had seen death before, and it always hit him hard, especially when there was a chance that he could have helped the person. This was not one of those cases - whoever had killed this man had stabbed him and hit the heart. Death would have been near instantaneous. That didn't make it any easier to take. Who had killed him and why?
He was about to extend his senses outward when the danger around him escalated and he threw himself to the side as pain exploded from his shoulder. He stumbled backwards, then fled back to the relative safety of his room, trying to ignore the pain and the arrow protruding from his shoulder. As he pushed the door closed, he heard someone say, "Idiot! That was him! We need that one alive!"
That was him... Quatre froze. They were looking for him! It was obvious that somehow his father's castle had been invaded, and by people who were trying to catch him! It was his fault that the servant was dead! Quatre cast his mind outward and was horrified by what he found - all around the castle, people were dead and dying. The only conscious minds he could sense belonged to the enemy, whoever they were, and they were all looking for him.
Quatre gritted his teeth and grasped the shaft of the arrow buried in his shoulder. He muttered to himself for a moment, then sighed in relief as it dissolved under his touch, point and all. He quickly healed himself. :Trowa?:
:Quatre...: Quatre momentarily felt the link between them strengthen, then Trowa continued, :You were shot! What's happening there?: His mental voice was colored with emotions that were never present in his normal speaking voice.
:I don't know. There are people here - they look like commoners, but they know how to fight. They're slaughtering everyone, and they're looking for me...:
:Get out of there!: Trowa ordered urgently, but Quatre's mind was already moving on. He suddenly realized that among the minds he had not sensed was his father's.
:I have to find my father!: Quatre cried, and cut off the contact before Trowa could protest. Quatre concentrated on his father's room - it wasn't that far away, he should be able to conjure himself there and avoid the men entirely. He concentrated, called in his power... and then nearly blacked out as it unexpectedly lashed back on him. He dropped to his knees. What was that?! He cast his mind out and felt a sort of haze over the entire castle. It was a subtle thing, which was why he didn't notice it before, and it seemed that the only purpose of the spell was to keep him from conjuring himself while he was in the castle.
He snorted in disgust. What was that supposed to do? It wasn't like he couldn't fly off if he wanted, or cast an illusion of invisibility, or... the list went on and on. This was an inconvenience, nothing more. But he had to get to his father.
Normally he'd just cloak himself in an illusion, but he was angry, and he wanted to get to his father the by the direct method. It was obvious that they already knew who and what he was, so he might as well show them exactly what he was capable of. He sheathed the sword at his hip and opened the door, throwing a mage shield up around himself at the same time. Good thing, because as he did so, another arrow impacted off the shield, and it had been headed directly for his head.
"You idiot! Alive, remember?"
That reminded Quatre of the body lying in the corridor outside his room, and with a growled word, he made a half-dozen bright mage-lights. The corridor was suddenly illuminated more brightly than during the day, and the men cried out, covering their eyes. Quatre smiled grimly, and with a thought sent both of the men flying. He started walking down the hall towards his father's room, but stopped when he felt something stirring in the next room over. He blasted the doors out of his way, his power ready, but he restrained himself - barely - when he saw the body of a young woman lying on the bed. No, not a body, she was merely unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief - they weren't killing everyone, so his father had to still be alive. They wouldn't have killed the Lord of the house if they could avoid it.
Quatre walked back into the hall. He walked past the men, who were still lying there, unconscious, and threw up another shield around himself as several more men, also dressed in peasant's clothes, came running up to him. The way they handled the weapons in their hand indicated that they were something other than farmers, however. A simple push with his mind and they also collapsed to the floor. Quatre ignored them. He had to get to his father.
He walked through the halls, but before just before he reached his father's room, he heard a muffled sound. Weeping. His heart jumped up into his throat, but he swallowed and walked the last few steps. It was dark in this room but the mage light that was following him quickly illuminated the scene. His sister, Iria, crouched over their father's still body. Samir, sprawled on the floor just beyond him. He could sense only one life in the room. Father...
"What happened?" he asked softly, although he already knew the answer to his question.
"They came in here... they were looking for you, they demanded that he turn you over to them... He refused..." Iria told him between her tears. "Samir tried to protect him... they killed them both. They weren't even armed!"
Dead. My father's dead... they were looking for me... my father's dead, Samir is dead... they wanted me... they're all dead... if it wasn't for me, this wouldn't have happened... my father's dead, because they wanted me... my father's dead...
It's my fault. The thought crashed into him like a sledgehammer. It was his fault that his father was dead, his fault that Samir was dead, his fault that they all were dead... For a moment he thought that the grief would crush him. Then he felt the killers - three of them - coming up behind them and something crystallized in his mind. It's their fault.
Without thinking about what he was doing, without even turning around, he killed the men who were sneaking up behind them, simply snuffing out their lives. The bodies dropped to the floor behind him, and he smiled. His mind flew away from his body, and he located all of the other soldiers running around the castle - because that's what they were, Oz soldiers, he noted with an oddly detached portion of his mind - and killed them all as well. Actually all of his mind was somewhat detached. He felt his power rising around him, and in some corner of his mind that was not in this detached state, he heard something screaming as he lost control of his powers, as they rose to engulf him.
He saw a brief glimpse of wonder, fear, then horror on Iria's face as he began to laugh. His father was dead. He'd killed some of those who were responsible, but not all of them. He would have to fix that. He had the power to deal with everyone who was responsible.
And he would.
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Trowa suddenly cried out and dropped to his knees, his hands pressed against his temples. Duo stared at him in horror, then felt all the blood drain out of his face as he felt *something* travel down the link that he had with Quatre. Intense emotional pain, followed by even more intense anger and hatred, and then... nothing. He couldn't feel anything through the link - he could tell Quatre was still alive, but that was it. He couldn't hear anything, and he couldn't reach Quatre's mind.
"Trowa..." Duo said unsteadily, not sure of what had just happened but sure that he didn't like it, and equally certain that Trowa knew what was going on. "What happened? Where's Quatre?" he asked as Duo and Wufei suddenly appeared, conjuring themselves in from wherever they'd been.
"He's gone," Trowa said in a short, tight voice.
"What do you mean, gone?" Duo asked. "I can still feel him. He can't be..." Duo couldn't bring himself to say the word. No, not Quatre. He can't be dead. Thanatos said that I wasn't cursed. *Heero* said I wasn't cursed. He can't be dead.
"Not dead," Trowa said, apparently knowing what was going through his mind. Well, it didn't take a genius to see where his mind usually went. "Alive... but it's not Quatre anymore." He shook his head, and for a moment nearly unbearable pain flashed in his eyes before they returned to their normal blank state.
"What do you mean? What happened?" Duo repeated.
"By the gods," Wufei muttered, and Duo looked at him. Wufei was staring off into space, or so it seemed, until Duo noticed that Wufei happened to be looking at where Quatre was (or had been). Sure, he was a couple of hundred miles away, but Duo doubted that meant anything to Wufei when he was using his powers. "He's let his power consume him. He's not in control." There was more than a hint of horror in his voice, and no derision, which was unusual. Or maybe he was just shocked by the horror of the situation. All of their predecessors had warned them about this, about how the power could feed on you, take control of your body and then use it... Duo shuddered.
"What happened?" he asked one more time.
"His father. Dead. He woke up, and there were people in his home - it was a trap for him... I told him to get out of there, but he said he had to help his father. He blocked me out, and then..."
"They killed his father?" Duo asked in a whisper.
"He found the body and something just... changed inside of him. I can feel it. He killed the men who were in his home - all of them. And he's not going to stop there."
"Quatre killed them?" Duo said, trying to imagine Quatre even *hurting* anyone. Sure, Rashid had told him that Quatre had fought beside them, had had blood on his sword, the same as everyone else, but he still couldn't see it. "It was in self-defense... right?"
Trowa shook his head. "He used his power. Or his power used him. He killed them with a thought. All of them."
Duo stifled a curse. No, not him. If he ever comes out of this, he'll never forgive himself. "So what do we do?" he asked, not really expecting anyone to have an answer.
"We have to stop him," Heero said, deadly serious.
"How?" By then, Duo knew his lover's mind well enough to see where this was going. "No," he said, shaking his head and backing up a step. "No. We can't do that. Not to Quatre. Heero..."
"He has to be stopped. He's going to continue to kill. I can feel it."
"He has to be stopped, he doesn't have to be killed," Wufei interjected, and Duo saw Trowa actually flinch. An actual visible emotion on Trowa's face. This was bad. "If we can break him out of the cycle, he might be able to get control of himself. We still need him to fight... But he cannot be allowed to remain this way." Wufei was avoiding looking at Trowa.
Duo didn't want to look at him either, but he was standing there facing him - not looking at him would be pretty obvious. So he could very clearly see the conflicting emotions - yes, emotions - in Trowa's eyes, although his expression didn't change. Duo also saw - and felt - when Trowa suddenly shut down, shoving back all emotions and blocking out his link with them until Duo could barely feel him, much less reach his mind. He straightened, his eyes vacant once more. "Whatever needs to be done," he said quietly, sounding determined.
"Don't worry, Tro, we'll get him back," Duo said, trying to sound confident, failing miserably, and realizing it. Shit. Not them. Not Quatre and Trowa. If we have to... to kill Quatre, we might as well bury Trowa with him. Fuck. Why them? They're so sweet together... fuck!
Trowa gazed at him evenly and didn't say anything.
Heero looked at Wufei. "Can you track him?"
Wufei's gaze into space sharpened for a moment, then he shook his head. "He... It's blocking me. Maybe if we go to his home, I can pick up the trail from there." He arched his back and his wings snapped out, and the others quickly followed suit.
Trowa took off first, and Duo just stared after him for a moment, and glanced at Heero, whose expression was unreadable. Wufei cleared his throat and the three of them took off after Trowa. They had to find Quatre and bring him back, it was as simple as that. Because despite everything, Duo was still thinking. When you got used to crap happening as an everyday occurrence in your life, it left you better able to deal with it. So he remembered that they needed Quatre alive for a reason other than Trowa's love life - they needed all five of them to defend the planet.
For a second he wondered if this... attack against Quatre had somehow been involved, a ruse to split them up, but... no, it couldn't be. Treize was just up to his old tricks. Right?
All right. A sort-of cliffhanger. This was a really difficult section to write - I do not like writing from the perspective of someone who is going insane during the section I'm writing. Ugh. Hope it comes across all right. C&C welcome.