Title: Crystalline Tears Drop by Little Trowa-san ^.^
Part: 2/3
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings: None
Comments: This part goes into a little more detail on what is happening to Trowa. This is a shorter, gruesome chapter.
Warnings: Ouch! How can he do that? More blood, fallen angst.
Part Two
Duo! Get up! Its late! Duo's world came in slowly, and as the blurriness slowly cleared, the pain took its place, creeping slowly up, until it sat in the pit of his head. Then he could feel it all over. His back was cramped, his legs strained. He tried pulling himself out of the cramped position, but his legs barely budged.
Wha... what time is it? he said making out what seemed a Quatre-formed boy, looking over him.
You slept out on the bench again, Duo... it's 12 am, he thrust a hand on the braided boy.
My body... ow... Duo could only manage to say.
Quatre shook his head.
Well of course your gonna feel like that if you slept on a hard bench all through the night!
Duo gave a groggy sigh and tried to stretch his body, though he didn't even have energy for that.
Why're you in the park? Quatre asked, again picking up Duo's soggy braid.
Duo shook his head.
Ahhh, I don't remember... I... Trowa!!! Duo gasped sitting up too fast and hitting his elbow on the iron.
Duo, hold on. Calm down! Where is Trowa? I haven't seen him. He never came in last night.
Duo nodded.
I... I saw him, last night. He was in the park, but he didn't look too good, he was mad or something... Duo gave a sigh. As usual I didn't get much out of him.
Mad? That's strange. Trowa's is usually never even ill tempered. But you know Trowa, you better back off, and leave him to himself.
Duo gave a simple look. Why should I? I wish he'd just open up more...
Quatre raised an eyebrow.
Why do you always insist on Trowa opening up, and to you of all people?
Duo gave a harmless glare and stood to his feet.
I just... wanted to get to know Trowa a little better, that's all.
Quatre watched Duo's uneasy look.
I can understand what you mean. Even for me it is hard to get him to open up... I guess it's just the way he is.
Well... maybe I can. How could anyone not resist this face? Duo gave a slightly disturbing face, his cheeks bulging, and Quatre gave a snicker.
Well, come on, you better hurry, Heero said he had some news for us to discuss, and now that I found you, we better hop to it. Quatre turned around and started back towards the dorms.
Duo watched him leave and breathed a sigh of relief. Quatre seemed set to believe that it would be impossible to figure the emerald-eyed boy out. But he thought of Trowa... maybe he was crazy... but his mind was set. He had to pry in.
* * *
Sitting in the lonely, desolate room, Trowa lay his head back. The silence hushed over him like the sounds below water. He felt the cold wall across his face, as the tender coils strapped around his wrist took up his moving vibrations. He leaned his face closer to the window blinds, his breathing steady now as he peered through air. His eyes were unfocused.
Night: terrorless, lost. Blindness came with the dawning of day, no one would listen then, but at night, a person's mind was free. Roaming anywhere, even if one dare not think such thought's in the light of day.
Trowa sat there, wondering if he could ever wander again. Ever have a free mind, only concentrating on the simple things. Like the rise and fall of one's chest, or the rainfall's pitter-patter on the cold sidewalks at night.
Alone, waiting in the great silence, he couldn't help but wonder where he'd end up next time. And as an object of someone's plans, he'd never be allowed an answer, because an object does not ask questions.
His fingers trailed up slowly to the windowsill, caressing its cold ridges, and fingering down to the base where the metal blinds set in place.
/What kind of room has metal blinds?/
Moving his fingers to the drawstring rope, he pulled it down, letting the dark room be fill with the night's light. Letting go of the cord, the blinds stacked into place at the very top of the window, so that the silent boy could stare out over the street.
The street was dark and the only light seen down its pathway was the semi-lit moon, shining in his green eyes. Trowa moved his shaking hand to the cool window's glass, feeling his way across the smooth surface. His eyes were narrowed as he looked into what seemed eternity. Balling his other hand into a fist he jerked it up into the glass-frame letting the sharp pieces pierce through his skin. The shattering, crushing noise barely penetrated his ears, still not overthrowing the louder pounding that was growing stronger within his pained heart.
Glass flew to all sides of the tiny room, and bounced off walls. His seemingly angry eyes, stared down at his bloody fist. Now he could see through the window, the exact copy of feelings his mind was shaped into.
* * *
Loud footsteps echoed from each wall, and endless hallways came into view once more. Trowa stopped for only a moment, to open the crumpled piece of paper in his fingertips. Recognizing the name once again, his sharp eyes scanned each doorway as he proceeded. A loud clanging noise sounded behind him, and he jerked to a stop, jolting his body around to get a better view. A young uniformed boy pushed his head out of a doorway, slammed it shut and then scurried into yet another. Trowa watched curiously for a moment, before returning to his search.
A strange feeling welled up inside him and he stopped dead in his tracks grabbing for his left shoulder. Breathing a bit heavily a trickle of blood escaped from his nose and fell below his feet. There was a loud clatter and a voice behind him, he dared not to recognize, though it brought him to an about-face.
Over here! 076, please accompany that man and bring him this way! the gruff voice shouted to a rather large man dressed in black, who then approached Trowa. He followed completely at his own will and found himself inside that big open white room he remembered from long ago.
Come, come, take a chair, said a man who had called him inside one of the doors of the massive hallway.
Trowa silently sat, beneath the glare of nasty bright lights.
Why did it take you so long? another fierce voice said coming in through another door. After entering, Trowa noticed right away that the man's bright OZ uniform smelled of whisky. The man looked down upon the green-eyed boy with disgust and regret. He turned to his companions.
I still say we should have chosen someone different. He isn't very trustworthy.
He worked out on all the tests, to remind you, Sir, a short man with a mustache said.
the uniformed man said and looked at Trowa again. His eyes focused on something.
What is this? he directed, raising Trowa's arm.
Trowa didn't jerk his bandaged hand back.
An accident, Sir, he said his voice neutral, even though the pounding in his mind grew louder by the second.
I see. What happened?
I stumbled down some stairs and a woman carrying heavy dishes crashed into me, Sir, and I cut my hand, he made up professionally, his expression so neutral it was impossible to read.
The uniformed man nodded and left the room. Three taller men stepped up to Trowa, their eyes gleaming with stupidity. Striping Trowa down, they strapped him to a hard metal table with wheels. They proceeded to roll him into a smaller room, the ceiling lights brighter than before, making his vision blurry.
Trowa's mind swirled and his eyes began to water. Closing them tight, he breathed in letting his mind run over and over, trying to convince himself.
/It's not gonna hurt, it's not gonna hurt, it's not gonna hurt./
