Author's Note: Hmpf. Well, now that I'm free, no thanks to a certain few MUSES, ::death glare:: I'm going to get the fic back on track.
Thalia, Eros, and Psyche: ::bound and gagged:: MMMMMMPPPPHHHH!!!
Bwahaha! Revenge is ~soooo~ sweet... Anyway, here we go.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, blah blah blah blah. * thoughts * ~emphasis~ *(psychic/empathic thoughts/emotions)*
PART FIVE
Quatre woke feeling... odd.
He was in the large common room in the basement, wrapped in sheets that weren't his own. He could smell the rank scent of sweat all over himself, and examined his pajamas. Sure enough, they were stained. He wrinkled his nose, then looked up again. Five of the longer couches had been rearranged so that they were clustered close together in a vague pentagonal shape, all facing inward. Two were empty, only folded sheets on the last cushions. The other two were occupied by a sprawled-out Duo and a cocooned figure with a puddled of tangled black hair splayed across a pillow.
* How'd we all get out here? * he wondered vaguely, yawning and stretching. He was too tired to really care enough to puzzle it out. He felt like he'd been sleeping for a thousand years, and could stand a few thousand more. * Too bad, I've got get up and help everyone with breakfast - *
His thoughts were interrupted by the chime of the antique clock on one of the shelves. He glanced at it, then blinked. It was only five? He could sleep a bit more then. If Trowa and Heero had gotten up early to work on their Gundams, then they probably helped themselves to the food. He laid back down to go back to sleep for a couple hours, until the day really started.
He hadn't quite managed to drift off when he heard steps on the staircase. He sighed and sat up again to see Trowa coming down, holding three plates of steaming food and a tray with three glasses of water on it. Quatre blinked. * I knew he had good balance before, but this is almost silly... *
"Glad to see you're finally up," Trowa said softly when he'd reached the odd furniture formation. He hooked a coffee table with one foot and dragged it over to the side of Quatre's couch, then set all the dishes down without spilling even a drop of water. "We were starting to worry."
"Trowa, it's only five-thirty," Quatre protested lightly, a smile on his face. "What's with the breakfast in bed?"
Trowa had crossed to Wufei and was shaking him not quite gently. He looked over at the blonde for a moment.
"Do you know how long you've been sleeping?"
"I dunno, about seven hours or so, I guess. Why?"
"Quatre, it's five thirty in the evening, not in the morning. You and these two here have been unconscious for roughly sixteen hours. And it appears that Wufei will remain so for a while longer yet, as will Duo," Trowa said, as he had gone to Duo and tried to wake him.
"Sixteen hours?" Quatre repeated, incredulous.
"Actually, it would be more for you. You didn't wake when the rest of us did. I'd explain, but I really don't have a clue as to what went on last night," Trowa told him, coming to kneel on the opposite side of the coffee table. "You should eat something."
Quatre looked down at the plates, each piled with noodles and chunky red sauce and topped with shredded cheese that had now melted. He inhaled deeply, savoring the delicious smell. He suddenly realized that he was not just hungry, he was ~ravenous.~
"Thanks for bringing it, Trowa," he said. The pilot of Heavyarms shrugged noncommittally as Quatre picked up a plate of spaghetti and set to it like he'd never seen food before. He was a bit embarrassed by his eagerness, especially because it was not an easy thing to eat spaghetti neatly even when one had some pretense of decorum. He knew he was getting it all over his face in his haste, and desperately wished for a napkin. He flushed deeply as he gulped half a glass of water at once.
* This wouldn't be so embarrassing if he wasn't just sitting there ~watching~ me. * he thought, wiping the corners of his mouth with his hand.
"This is very good. Did you make it yourself?" he asked, the silence getting to him.
"Yeah," Trowa replied.
"Do you want some?"
"I already ate."
"Where's Heero?"
"Working on Wing."
"Oh. How's Heavyarms coming along?"
"Fine. I should finish within the week."
"That's good."
Quatre couldn't think of anything else to say, and that flustered him a bit. He looked down at the plate on his lap, scooping the last of the noodles onto his fork and slurping them up. He was mortified when the last noodle whipped up and across his face, landing a stinging sloppy slap against his cheek before disappearing in his mouth. He turned bright red as he chewed, turning his cheek away. * Oh Allah, how embarrassing... *
"Here, let me," Trowa said in his quiet voice, reaching into one of the pockets of his jeans and withdrawing a worn but clean-looking red handkerchief. He reached over and, with such gentleness it was surprising, wiped the offending sauce off of the blonde boy's cheek.
* Oh, Allah... *
The moment seemed to be an eternity in itself. Quatre memorized the lines of Trowa's face and body, the feel of the cloth sliding over his burning face. When Trowa pulled away, though, it had was too short of time. He realized that he was staring and looked away, feeling his cheeks grow even darker.
"Thanks," he said. Then he blinked, suddenly noticing something. "Trowa, what happened to the sling?"
He got up the courage to look at the taller boy. Trowa looked surprised for a second, then his eyes warmed slightly.
"I was only wearing it because Catherine, a woman in the circus, insisted. She's appointed herself my caretaker, and tended my wounds after a battle once. My wrist had been bruised, and she thought it was sprained. I could tell it wasn't, but she wouldn't let me pilot until I put on the sling," he explained.
"Wouldn't let you pilot?" Quatre asked with a bemused quirk of an eyebrow. But... he couldn't help wonder if the reason he was so much warmer than before was that he was recalling this... Catherine.
"She throws knives with some accuracy."
"Ah. Very persuasive argument, that."
"I thought so. Anyway, I forgot to take it off yesterday until I went to bed. There was no need to put it back on, and it would inhibit my abilities," he said.
"Why didn't you mention it before when I asked what happened?"
"He was embarrassed," a new voice grumbled. Wufei struggled out of his cocoon, blinking sleepily and squinting.
"So you're awake. Hungry?" Trowa asked, not responding to that comment.
Wufei sat up and squinted at them. He rubbed his eyes and then widened them almost comically, blinking rapidly.
"Yeah..." he said vaguely.
Trowa got up and carried a plate of cooling spaghetti to Wufei, who ate with as much gusto as Quatre but a little more dignity. For a while, there was silence. Then Trowa broke the silence.
"So, what happened?" he asked with what might've been impatience in his tone.
"I'll explain when Duo awakes. By the way, did you plan this? Spaghetti, I mean," Wufei said, gesturing to his plate.
Trowa gave him a long look.
"Plan it?"
"Well, the carbohydrates in the noodles restore energy, the vitamins in the vegetables in the sauce and protein in the meat restore chemical balances, and the water restores the electrolytes in the bloodstream. All of this is important for recovering from psychic shocks," Wufei pointed out.
"What? Psychic shocks?" Quatre blinked, looking from Wufei to Trowa and back. They ignored his question, seemed frozen.
"I didn't plan it," Trowa said after a long time. "It just... seemed like a good idea."
'Ah," Wufei said, leaning back.. He tilted his head and looked speculatively at Trowa a while longer before returning to his food.
* What is going on here? * thought Quatre helplessly.
Heero slid out from under the control panel in Wing's cockpit. The circuit to the right HUD screen was fried. This would be a bitch to reinstall. He grabbed a small acetylene torch, welding goggles, and elbow-high work gloves from the open hatch. He put the goggles and gloves on, started the torch, and slid back under the panel. The tedious work of disconnecting the circuit didn't hold his attention for long, though. As his body continued to do this task with very precise motions, he found his mind wandering and wondering, as it had been prone to do all day.
* I need more sleep. My mind is not focusing correctly. * he thought, but did nothing to make himself concentrate harder. That was odd. How come he was so... distracted?
Was it the nightmares?
They were so vivid. The heat of the torch on his face, arms, and chest reminded him forcibly of the desert and the dead and the fear. The dream. Who was that girl? Why was she so familiar, like an old friend, and yet so... so...
Or was it the - the incident last night?
Unbidden, the image of Duo and Wufei kissing came into his mind's eye. His eyes twitched as a spark landed on his goggles.
* Why do I keep returning to that? * The image had haunted him all last night and all day, popping up at the oddest times. He frowned angrily. Last night was.... odd. None of it made sense. Least of all that part. He found the idea of Duo kissing Wufei very hard to wrap his mind around. Why? Was it because they were both boys? He'd never had a reason to think on it before, though the vague homophobia that was practically omnipresent in the military could be the reason he felt slightly nauseous. Or it could be that this presented a new worry: if two of the gundam pilots had engaged in sexual activity, would that make their emotions for the other pilot get in the way of a mission?
Well, that wasn't exactly a new worry. Quatre had seemed interested in Trowa from the start. But Heero hadn't cared before as Quatre had practically thrown himself at the taller boy. So that destroyed the theories of homophobia and fear of missions being compromised in one stroke. But then what was it? What was different with Duo and Wufei than with Quatre and Trowa?
He didn't have an answer, and came back to the present.
He turned the torch off and tugged the now-freed circuit from the tangle of wires, then extricated himself from the panel and dropped the broken part over the side of the hatch. The clang rang out in the quiet of the hangar. The only sound after the echo had faded was the baying of the wind and a strange scratching noise, like rodents in the walls.
* It's the sand. * he realized. * The sand hitting the walls outside. *
He had to get a replacement circuit.
Heero went to the edge of the hatch and grabbed for a safety wire. He leapt down, hearing the whir of the cord unwinding. He was only halfway down when the cord snapped with a ~ping.~ Something unseen pushed him hard toward the floor. He had time for a short dismayed frown before he landed hard.
With the slithering, ringing noise of bending wire, the cord hit, curving in a vague way around his unconscious form.
Duo sat bolt upright on his couch.
"Heero's in trouble," he said, trying to get up, but he fell back in a dizzy spell. He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing the room spinning.
"Duo, stay where you are," Wufei commanded. "Trowa go get Heero from the hangar."
Duo opened his eyes to find that he was in the common room, surrounded by couches and lying on one. Trowa was already halfway up the stairs.
He was in the desert again. The line of walking corpses shuffled hopelessly, inevitably beside him. They were haggard and ragged, as if eroded by the constant wind and shifting sand. The sun was directly overhead, glaring down like a hateful eye, trying to mutate cells into cancerous growths with its potency.
He looked down the line of marching dead. He didn't know what he expected to see. They didn't appear to have changed much since the last time he saw them. It stretched over countless dunes, until the people lost shape and distinction, just an indistinct streak of black in the distance obscured by heat waves.
The girl sat at the top of the next dune. She faced away from him, gazing at something far away. He knew she could see the line's ultimate destination. He had to see for himself.
He ran forward, nearly tumbling down the side of the hill of sand. But as soon as he got to the top, the girl was gone. He squinted through the dazzling light, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. She sat in the exact same pose on the next dune.
* So that's how it's going to be, huh? * he thought wryly.
He plodded onward, jogging as best he could in the heat. His mouth was so dry... He needed water. Water... Blue... the sky...?
He looked up at the sky, chapped and salt-rimmed lips parted as if he would drink it. But the ravenous desert had devoured the sky, turning it a garish wash of orange. The sun grew hotter and forbidding. He couldn't continue. He had to get water. Thirst was going to kill him if he didn't get even just a single drop -
"Heero," came the lilting voice of the girl. He turned to it instinctively. She was only a few feet way, looking stern. He stepped forward, reaching out, almost begging for relief. But she took a step back, her gaze boring into him.
* So that's how it's going to be... *
Somehow, he managed to collect himself. He had to see what was at the end of the line. He had to follow the girl, water or no. It was his mission, now.
* Ryoukai. *
He blinked. He was somewhere different now, but it looked exactly like the last dune, and the dunes all around. Except the girl stood three dunes ahead, pointing at something. He did his best to ignore the sand biting into his flesh, propelled by wind. Finally, he reached her side. He followed her outstretched hand.
There was a shape in the distance, a shine, a shimmer that reached up into the orange sky and down deep into the sand. He saw, and he felt a tug, faint but definitely there. Fear contracted around his heart. That was where the dead were headed.
He came to himself with a slap ringing in his ears and his face stinging. He surged up, feeling sweat trickling down his face and neck, his tank-top clinging to his skin. He stepped backward quickly, too quickly. He nearly fell again as he tripped over the fallen safety cord. When he regained his balance, he looked around. Trowa stood not too far away, looking at him.
"What happened? Are you all right?" he asked calmly.
Heero took a deep breath before he answered.
"The safety cord snapped," he answered.
Trowa started a little. The wires they used to get in and out of the gundams were made of rubber-coated braided steel a Quatre of an inch thick. It couldn't have just snapped. Heero bent and picked up the end of the cord. The black rubber coating had been worn away, looking pock-marked. It was gritty and dusty to the touch. The metal was frayed, with smaller wires sticking out and also looking very worn. The two teens shared a look, with expressions that could almost be called bewildered.
"The others are awake," the pilot of Heavyarms told him. "Wufei is ready to explain."
"Hn," he responded, dropping the wire. "Let's go." He tried not to stagger as he began to walk back to the house. This was going to be an interesting explanation.
END PART FIVE
Okay! Now, I've just get to explain a lot in the next chapter. Betcha didn't think I'd ever get around to it, huh? And without muses, no less.
Thalia: ::squirming in the ropes:: I'll get you for this.
How'd you get your gag off?
Eros: We muses have our ways.
Well, then, make yourselves useful.
Eros: REEEEEEEEEEVVVVVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!
Thalia, Eros, and Psyche: ::bound and gagged:: MMMMMMPPPPHHHH!!!
Bwahaha! Revenge is ~soooo~ sweet... Anyway, here we go.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, blah blah blah blah. * thoughts * ~emphasis~ *(psychic/empathic thoughts/emotions)*
PART FIVE
Quatre woke feeling... odd.
He was in the large common room in the basement, wrapped in sheets that weren't his own. He could smell the rank scent of sweat all over himself, and examined his pajamas. Sure enough, they were stained. He wrinkled his nose, then looked up again. Five of the longer couches had been rearranged so that they were clustered close together in a vague pentagonal shape, all facing inward. Two were empty, only folded sheets on the last cushions. The other two were occupied by a sprawled-out Duo and a cocooned figure with a puddled of tangled black hair splayed across a pillow.
* How'd we all get out here? * he wondered vaguely, yawning and stretching. He was too tired to really care enough to puzzle it out. He felt like he'd been sleeping for a thousand years, and could stand a few thousand more. * Too bad, I've got get up and help everyone with breakfast - *
His thoughts were interrupted by the chime of the antique clock on one of the shelves. He glanced at it, then blinked. It was only five? He could sleep a bit more then. If Trowa and Heero had gotten up early to work on their Gundams, then they probably helped themselves to the food. He laid back down to go back to sleep for a couple hours, until the day really started.
He hadn't quite managed to drift off when he heard steps on the staircase. He sighed and sat up again to see Trowa coming down, holding three plates of steaming food and a tray with three glasses of water on it. Quatre blinked. * I knew he had good balance before, but this is almost silly... *
"Glad to see you're finally up," Trowa said softly when he'd reached the odd furniture formation. He hooked a coffee table with one foot and dragged it over to the side of Quatre's couch, then set all the dishes down without spilling even a drop of water. "We were starting to worry."
"Trowa, it's only five-thirty," Quatre protested lightly, a smile on his face. "What's with the breakfast in bed?"
Trowa had crossed to Wufei and was shaking him not quite gently. He looked over at the blonde for a moment.
"Do you know how long you've been sleeping?"
"I dunno, about seven hours or so, I guess. Why?"
"Quatre, it's five thirty in the evening, not in the morning. You and these two here have been unconscious for roughly sixteen hours. And it appears that Wufei will remain so for a while longer yet, as will Duo," Trowa said, as he had gone to Duo and tried to wake him.
"Sixteen hours?" Quatre repeated, incredulous.
"Actually, it would be more for you. You didn't wake when the rest of us did. I'd explain, but I really don't have a clue as to what went on last night," Trowa told him, coming to kneel on the opposite side of the coffee table. "You should eat something."
Quatre looked down at the plates, each piled with noodles and chunky red sauce and topped with shredded cheese that had now melted. He inhaled deeply, savoring the delicious smell. He suddenly realized that he was not just hungry, he was ~ravenous.~
"Thanks for bringing it, Trowa," he said. The pilot of Heavyarms shrugged noncommittally as Quatre picked up a plate of spaghetti and set to it like he'd never seen food before. He was a bit embarrassed by his eagerness, especially because it was not an easy thing to eat spaghetti neatly even when one had some pretense of decorum. He knew he was getting it all over his face in his haste, and desperately wished for a napkin. He flushed deeply as he gulped half a glass of water at once.
* This wouldn't be so embarrassing if he wasn't just sitting there ~watching~ me. * he thought, wiping the corners of his mouth with his hand.
"This is very good. Did you make it yourself?" he asked, the silence getting to him.
"Yeah," Trowa replied.
"Do you want some?"
"I already ate."
"Where's Heero?"
"Working on Wing."
"Oh. How's Heavyarms coming along?"
"Fine. I should finish within the week."
"That's good."
Quatre couldn't think of anything else to say, and that flustered him a bit. He looked down at the plate on his lap, scooping the last of the noodles onto his fork and slurping them up. He was mortified when the last noodle whipped up and across his face, landing a stinging sloppy slap against his cheek before disappearing in his mouth. He turned bright red as he chewed, turning his cheek away. * Oh Allah, how embarrassing... *
"Here, let me," Trowa said in his quiet voice, reaching into one of the pockets of his jeans and withdrawing a worn but clean-looking red handkerchief. He reached over and, with such gentleness it was surprising, wiped the offending sauce off of the blonde boy's cheek.
* Oh, Allah... *
The moment seemed to be an eternity in itself. Quatre memorized the lines of Trowa's face and body, the feel of the cloth sliding over his burning face. When Trowa pulled away, though, it had was too short of time. He realized that he was staring and looked away, feeling his cheeks grow even darker.
"Thanks," he said. Then he blinked, suddenly noticing something. "Trowa, what happened to the sling?"
He got up the courage to look at the taller boy. Trowa looked surprised for a second, then his eyes warmed slightly.
"I was only wearing it because Catherine, a woman in the circus, insisted. She's appointed herself my caretaker, and tended my wounds after a battle once. My wrist had been bruised, and she thought it was sprained. I could tell it wasn't, but she wouldn't let me pilot until I put on the sling," he explained.
"Wouldn't let you pilot?" Quatre asked with a bemused quirk of an eyebrow. But... he couldn't help wonder if the reason he was so much warmer than before was that he was recalling this... Catherine.
"She throws knives with some accuracy."
"Ah. Very persuasive argument, that."
"I thought so. Anyway, I forgot to take it off yesterday until I went to bed. There was no need to put it back on, and it would inhibit my abilities," he said.
"Why didn't you mention it before when I asked what happened?"
"He was embarrassed," a new voice grumbled. Wufei struggled out of his cocoon, blinking sleepily and squinting.
"So you're awake. Hungry?" Trowa asked, not responding to that comment.
Wufei sat up and squinted at them. He rubbed his eyes and then widened them almost comically, blinking rapidly.
"Yeah..." he said vaguely.
Trowa got up and carried a plate of cooling spaghetti to Wufei, who ate with as much gusto as Quatre but a little more dignity. For a while, there was silence. Then Trowa broke the silence.
"So, what happened?" he asked with what might've been impatience in his tone.
"I'll explain when Duo awakes. By the way, did you plan this? Spaghetti, I mean," Wufei said, gesturing to his plate.
Trowa gave him a long look.
"Plan it?"
"Well, the carbohydrates in the noodles restore energy, the vitamins in the vegetables in the sauce and protein in the meat restore chemical balances, and the water restores the electrolytes in the bloodstream. All of this is important for recovering from psychic shocks," Wufei pointed out.
"What? Psychic shocks?" Quatre blinked, looking from Wufei to Trowa and back. They ignored his question, seemed frozen.
"I didn't plan it," Trowa said after a long time. "It just... seemed like a good idea."
'Ah," Wufei said, leaning back.. He tilted his head and looked speculatively at Trowa a while longer before returning to his food.
* What is going on here? * thought Quatre helplessly.
Heero slid out from under the control panel in Wing's cockpit. The circuit to the right HUD screen was fried. This would be a bitch to reinstall. He grabbed a small acetylene torch, welding goggles, and elbow-high work gloves from the open hatch. He put the goggles and gloves on, started the torch, and slid back under the panel. The tedious work of disconnecting the circuit didn't hold his attention for long, though. As his body continued to do this task with very precise motions, he found his mind wandering and wondering, as it had been prone to do all day.
* I need more sleep. My mind is not focusing correctly. * he thought, but did nothing to make himself concentrate harder. That was odd. How come he was so... distracted?
Was it the nightmares?
They were so vivid. The heat of the torch on his face, arms, and chest reminded him forcibly of the desert and the dead and the fear. The dream. Who was that girl? Why was she so familiar, like an old friend, and yet so... so...
Or was it the - the incident last night?
Unbidden, the image of Duo and Wufei kissing came into his mind's eye. His eyes twitched as a spark landed on his goggles.
* Why do I keep returning to that? * The image had haunted him all last night and all day, popping up at the oddest times. He frowned angrily. Last night was.... odd. None of it made sense. Least of all that part. He found the idea of Duo kissing Wufei very hard to wrap his mind around. Why? Was it because they were both boys? He'd never had a reason to think on it before, though the vague homophobia that was practically omnipresent in the military could be the reason he felt slightly nauseous. Or it could be that this presented a new worry: if two of the gundam pilots had engaged in sexual activity, would that make their emotions for the other pilot get in the way of a mission?
Well, that wasn't exactly a new worry. Quatre had seemed interested in Trowa from the start. But Heero hadn't cared before as Quatre had practically thrown himself at the taller boy. So that destroyed the theories of homophobia and fear of missions being compromised in one stroke. But then what was it? What was different with Duo and Wufei than with Quatre and Trowa?
He didn't have an answer, and came back to the present.
He turned the torch off and tugged the now-freed circuit from the tangle of wires, then extricated himself from the panel and dropped the broken part over the side of the hatch. The clang rang out in the quiet of the hangar. The only sound after the echo had faded was the baying of the wind and a strange scratching noise, like rodents in the walls.
* It's the sand. * he realized. * The sand hitting the walls outside. *
He had to get a replacement circuit.
Heero went to the edge of the hatch and grabbed for a safety wire. He leapt down, hearing the whir of the cord unwinding. He was only halfway down when the cord snapped with a ~ping.~ Something unseen pushed him hard toward the floor. He had time for a short dismayed frown before he landed hard.
With the slithering, ringing noise of bending wire, the cord hit, curving in a vague way around his unconscious form.
Duo sat bolt upright on his couch.
"Heero's in trouble," he said, trying to get up, but he fell back in a dizzy spell. He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing the room spinning.
"Duo, stay where you are," Wufei commanded. "Trowa go get Heero from the hangar."
Duo opened his eyes to find that he was in the common room, surrounded by couches and lying on one. Trowa was already halfway up the stairs.
He was in the desert again. The line of walking corpses shuffled hopelessly, inevitably beside him. They were haggard and ragged, as if eroded by the constant wind and shifting sand. The sun was directly overhead, glaring down like a hateful eye, trying to mutate cells into cancerous growths with its potency.
He looked down the line of marching dead. He didn't know what he expected to see. They didn't appear to have changed much since the last time he saw them. It stretched over countless dunes, until the people lost shape and distinction, just an indistinct streak of black in the distance obscured by heat waves.
The girl sat at the top of the next dune. She faced away from him, gazing at something far away. He knew she could see the line's ultimate destination. He had to see for himself.
He ran forward, nearly tumbling down the side of the hill of sand. But as soon as he got to the top, the girl was gone. He squinted through the dazzling light, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. She sat in the exact same pose on the next dune.
* So that's how it's going to be, huh? * he thought wryly.
He plodded onward, jogging as best he could in the heat. His mouth was so dry... He needed water. Water... Blue... the sky...?
He looked up at the sky, chapped and salt-rimmed lips parted as if he would drink it. But the ravenous desert had devoured the sky, turning it a garish wash of orange. The sun grew hotter and forbidding. He couldn't continue. He had to get water. Thirst was going to kill him if he didn't get even just a single drop -
"Heero," came the lilting voice of the girl. He turned to it instinctively. She was only a few feet way, looking stern. He stepped forward, reaching out, almost begging for relief. But she took a step back, her gaze boring into him.
* So that's how it's going to be... *
Somehow, he managed to collect himself. He had to see what was at the end of the line. He had to follow the girl, water or no. It was his mission, now.
* Ryoukai. *
He blinked. He was somewhere different now, but it looked exactly like the last dune, and the dunes all around. Except the girl stood three dunes ahead, pointing at something. He did his best to ignore the sand biting into his flesh, propelled by wind. Finally, he reached her side. He followed her outstretched hand.
There was a shape in the distance, a shine, a shimmer that reached up into the orange sky and down deep into the sand. He saw, and he felt a tug, faint but definitely there. Fear contracted around his heart. That was where the dead were headed.
He came to himself with a slap ringing in his ears and his face stinging. He surged up, feeling sweat trickling down his face and neck, his tank-top clinging to his skin. He stepped backward quickly, too quickly. He nearly fell again as he tripped over the fallen safety cord. When he regained his balance, he looked around. Trowa stood not too far away, looking at him.
"What happened? Are you all right?" he asked calmly.
Heero took a deep breath before he answered.
"The safety cord snapped," he answered.
Trowa started a little. The wires they used to get in and out of the gundams were made of rubber-coated braided steel a Quatre of an inch thick. It couldn't have just snapped. Heero bent and picked up the end of the cord. The black rubber coating had been worn away, looking pock-marked. It was gritty and dusty to the touch. The metal was frayed, with smaller wires sticking out and also looking very worn. The two teens shared a look, with expressions that could almost be called bewildered.
"The others are awake," the pilot of Heavyarms told him. "Wufei is ready to explain."
"Hn," he responded, dropping the wire. "Let's go." He tried not to stagger as he began to walk back to the house. This was going to be an interesting explanation.
END PART FIVE
Okay! Now, I've just get to explain a lot in the next chapter. Betcha didn't think I'd ever get around to it, huh? And without muses, no less.
Thalia: ::squirming in the ropes:: I'll get you for this.
How'd you get your gag off?
Eros: We muses have our ways.
Well, then, make yourselves useful.
Eros: REEEEEEEEEEVVVVVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!
