Oh! Thank you soooo much to the people who reviewed! ^____^ You're
soo nice! T_T please bare with me, I know it's a lot to read...
Nikki :-P
Series: Phoenix
Name: Reflections
Archive: Nikki's Realm http://www.geocities.com/mageofthewinds/index.html
anywhere else, just ask ^_^
Feedback: If you would be so kind ^_______^ it would be cherished.
Genre: Drama, Romance
Couples: OCx4, 6x3
Rating: R
Key:
~()~ Break
*Thought*
Description: Trowa and Quatre view their pasts. Set between chapters 2 (Withdraw) and 3 (Suspicion).
Warning (Please Read):
While this has very important points in the story, it involves prostitution, sexual harassment, drinking, and promiscuous sex (which means it has a lil' lime-ness). If these things bother you, I would skip this side story! If you do and are thoroughly confused, don't fret! I put a small blurb up for ya ^_^ jus' skip this chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, any of it's characters, story lines or anything really ^_^ I'm an amateur doing this for my own amusement and maybe yours. Please don't sue me?
(A Phoenix Side
Story)
By Nikki :-P or
Nataku's Child
~
Phoenix
: a legendary bird which according to one
account lived 500 years, burned itself to ashes on a pyre, and rose alive from
the ashes to live another period; also : a person or thing likened to the
phoenix
-Merriam-Webster's Dictionary
~
~I~ Quatre ~I~
Quatre lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, praying for sleep. However, rest wouldn't be granted him yet, there was too much on his mind, too much weight on his heart.
Too much suppressed pain, struggling to free itself...
Memories were coming back. He didn't want them. He wanted to forget, he never wanted to relive that pain. But it was too late. They were out.
He wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.
As tears collected on his pillow, Quatre relived his past...
~Flashback~
Quatre walked down the cracked sidewalk, pulling his jacket closer against the cold. The mid-autumn wind bit at his pale skin and he shuddered.
He was on his way home after another job search. Again, he'd come up with nothing.
"I'm sorry, we're looking for someone with more experience..."
"You don't have any references?"
"We aren't looking to higher anyone..."
After his sisters had cut him off, he'd been forced to live off of what he had left, and now he was running low. The solution was to get a job, but to an inexperienced, reference-less, and soon to be homeless young man, it turned out to be harder then he thought.
Breathing on his hands to warm them, Quatre walked on, looking forward to getting back to the small apartment he called home, and a warm blanket.
A car pulled up near him. It was nice, a luxury car, so much like the ones he used to drive. But never one to be interested in such things, he kept walking, not stopping to admire it.
A small part in the back of his mind heard the door open and someone stepping out. His senses left over from his piloting days told him the person was walking his way, but he didn't make anything of it.
"Quatre? Quatre Winner?"
Surprised at hearing his name, Quatre turned.
The man who had stepped out of the car stood a few feet away, smiling at him. He was probably in his early thirties. His light brown hair was cropped short and sensibly, he wore a black business suit; spotlessly clean, not even a speck of lint, and dark sunglasses, which he had raised to get a better look at Quatre. His perfectly straight white teeth flashed in a fake and extremely practiced smile.
"It is you!" the man exclaimed. "Do you remember me?"
Quatre looked closely. "Raymond? Raymond Sterling?"
Raymond was the owner of one of the companies Winner Resources worked with, they had met briefly to discuss something or other, Quatre couldn't remember too well.
The fake smile grew. "You do remember! Please, call me Ray."
Something prickled at the back of Quatre's mind, something felt wrong, and it wasn't just the fake smile and friendliness, something bothered Quatre about Raymond. He didn't trust him.
"What are you doing walking in the cold? Do you need a ride?" Raymond asked.
The prickling got stronger. Instinct was telling him to stay away, and Quatre knew better then to ignore his instinct.
"No. Thank you, Raymond-"
"Ray," he corrected.
"Ray. Thank you anyway, but I was just on my home, it's not far from here."
"Nonsense!" Ray said, walking over and opening his door. "It's cold out. And besides, we haven't seen each other in a while. We can catch up a bit."
There wasn't a polite way out of it; to not go was directly refusing his kindness. Besides, Ray hadn't done anything to make him suspicious before. Maybe he was just being paranoid.
Though still cautious, Quatre nodded and walked over. "Thank you," he said as he stepped in.
Ray got into the backseat next to him, closing the door behind himself. Quatre buckled himself in, but Raymond didn't bother with it. He knocked on the darkly tinted window separating them from the driver and the car began to move.
"So, Quatre," he said after a while. "I've been hearing this silly rumor, you'll never believe it. People have been saying that you've resigned from Winner Resources. This can't be true, can it?"
Quatre felt cold inside, though he didn't show it outside. Raymond knew perfectly well that it wasn't a rumor. Kayla had made it quite public that he had "resigned".
"It is no rumor," Quatre said calmly. "I have resigned from my position as heir."
"Why would you do that?" Ray asked.
"It was mutually decided that it would be better for the company if I wasn't the one to run it."
"Ah," Ray said softly, leaning back in his seat. "Mutually?"
"Pardon?" Quatre asked, knowing exactly what he said.
"It was mutually decided on?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you," he said simply.
Quatre didn't answer.
"Where do you live Quatre?" Ray asked, seemingly casual.
Quatre didn't answer.
"Around here, right?" Ray went on. "Funny. This isn't a very nice neighborhood, rather rundown in fact."
Again, Quatre didn't answer.
"Quiet all of the sudden?" Ray leaned forward, touching Quatre's jacket lightly with his fingertips.
It took every once of willpower Quatre had not to flinch away.
"Do you know what I think, Quatre?" he didn't wait for an answer. "I think that you've been...how do I say this...abandoned. I think that your family has taken away all of your funds, your right to the fortune, and..." he moved his hand down Quatre's arm. "Left you alone to rot."
Quatre clenched his teeth.
"And now what are you to do, Quatre? Have you ever been outside of your glass case? Have you ever been in the real world? My guess, is no. My guess is that you're lost. Without daddy's money, you don't know how to live."
Quatre whipped his arm back, finally taking enough. "I thank you for the ride, but I think I can walk from here."
"I didn't mean to offend you Quatre," he said smoothly. "I just want to help you."
"Help me?" Quatre asked suspiciously.
"Yes," Ray almost purred. He scooted closer, putting an arm around Quatre. "You see, I can help you with your money problem. You don't know how to work in the real world, I have an alternate solution."
Before Quatre could answer, Ray leaned forward, pressing him against the door in firm kiss, his free hand finding it's way to Quatre's thigh, rubbing and squeezing slightly.
At first Quatre was too shocked to respond. When he did get his wits back, he pushed Ray away as hard as he could. He didn't go far.
"Look Quatre," Ray said, still too close for comfort. "I can take care of you. You're lost in this cold, dark world. I can offer shelter. I take care of you..." he ran a finger over Quatre's cheek. "...And you take care of me."
Quatre could feel himself shaking. His heart felt cold as he glared at Raymond.
"Let me out." He said, voice just as cold as he felt.
"Quatre-"
"Now." His tone left no room for argument.
"Under one condition." Without waiting for an answer, Ray pulled a card out of his pocket and placed it in Quatre's jacket pocket. "My home and cell phone number, address, and e-mail. Anytime you need me..." he slid his hand up Quatre's thigh. "I'm here."
"Let me out," Quatre repeated.
Ray sighed and slid back. With a knock on the window, the car slowed. Quatre opened the door immediately. Luckily the street wasn't a busy one and there were no cars around.
Quatre was halfway out of the car when Ray grabbed his jacket. Quatre turned and glared back at him.
"I'm the only one who can help you, Quatre. I'll be waiting for you to figure it out." With that, he let go.
Quatre stepped out and closed the door, not quite, but close to slamming it.
The dark luxury car drove off, leaving Quatre on an unfamiliar street. Quatre's knees shook, he quickly found his way to the curb, sitting before they gave out. He was shaking all over, and his lip quivered. He couldn't believe what had just happened.
Feeling violated and completely alone, Quatre sat on the cold curb, his head in his hands as he wept.
~End Flashback~
Feeling cold, despite the warmth of the blankets he was wrapped in. Quatre curled up, physically and spiritually. Bringing his knees up to his chin and hugging them tightly, Quatre fell further into the dark pit of his mind, absorbing himself in his memories, his pain...
And his biggest mistake.
~Flashback~
Quatre woke to the now familiar rumbling of his stomach. Slowly lifting his eyelids, he put a hand to his stomach. Shutting his eyes tightly, he ran his hand upwards over his ribs, they stuck out against his skin, the physical proof of his poverty.
Slowly, he lifted himself out of bed, feeling more tired then when he when he got in. he made his way to the small bathroom and looked at himself in the cracked and dirty mirror.
Somber blue eyes stared back at him, rimed with dark circles, the proof of his loss. His skin looked too pale and his hair was a little longer then he usually kept it. Looking down, Quatre bit his lip, tears threatening to fall. His thin shirt hung limply on his shoulders, all the muscle he once had as a Gundam pilot was gone, wasted away. The pants he wore were a little short, the drawstring pulled so tight that the ends hung too low.
Quatre turned away, ashamed of the person he had become, and headed toward the shower.
~
After his shower, the far too pale youth walked into his "kitchenette."
Out of habit, though he knew it was empty, Quatre opened the fridge, sighing heavily when he was greeted with the dying light flickering on empty shelves.
Closing the door, he looked around.
Nothing.
No food, he was out of money.
His eyes flicked to a small handwritten note. It still had tape on it from when it was stuck to his door. An eviction notice, if he didn't pay within the week, he'd be homeless.
~
Quatre lay on his bed, the only piece of furniture he hadn't pawned.
*I could go to the guys...* he shook his head. *No, I'd only be a burden...that's all I am, a burden on the world...I should just...*
Quatre sat up quickly. "No!"
*I'll never resort to suicide. Life is precious, if I didn't learn anything else from the war, I learned that.* Quatre lay back. *But what do I have? No one will higher me, not then, not now.* he opened his eyes, looking down at his hunger weakened body, more exposed since he was laying down. *Definitely not now.*
He felt so lost. He had nothing, no money, no family, he couldn't face his friends, and soon, he wouldn't even have a home...
"I'm the only one who can help you Quatre. I'll be waiting for you to figure it out."
Quatre bit his lip.
*Is that it? Have I fallen so low?*
Pressing his hand to his protruding ribs, he sighed.
"Yes."
~End Flashback~
It hurt, physically hurt to remember. He was crying so hard he could barely breath, his stomach and chest contracted as he sobbed. He felt so cold, so tired...
So alone...
~Flashback~
There was a soft knock on Raymond Sterling's office door.
"Come in," he answered, paying more attention to the papers in front of him then his secretary that entered.
The woman kept her voice soft. "Um, Mr. Sterling, a Mr. Winner is here to see you, shall I let him in?"
Raymond's head snapped to attention. A slow smile spread across his lips, unlike the practiced one Quatre had shivered over, but if the young man had seen this one, he would have had the same reaction.
"Of course," Raymond answered. "Bring him in at once."
The soft-voiced woman turned and beckoned the figure waiting just outside the door.
Quatre's eyes were cast to the floor, the picture of shame.
"It's nice to see you, Quatre," Raymond said, his voice would have been soothing on other ears. Quatre didn't answer. "Hold my calls Silvia, I'm not to be disturbed."
Silvia nodded and turned to go, flashing Quatre a warm smile before leaving.
The small sign of kindness didn't go unnoticed to the silent youth. He turned as she left, lifting the corners of his mouth as much as he could before she closed the door.
"Welcome Quatre."
Raymond's voice brought Quatre back to the situation. His small attempt at a smile dropped as he turned to his future "employer".
Raymond rose from his seat, walking over to Quatre slowly. "I'm glad that you reconsidered my offer." He came to stop in front of Quatre, smiling his plastic smile. "Have you decided to take me up on it?"
Quatre looked to the floor again, he didn't want to see that smile, or those eyes, full of victory, full of lust. "Yes," Quatre answered, barely above a whisper.
"Perfect." As he spoke, Raymond lifted his hand to Quatre's chin.
Quatre resisted the urge to jerk away. *I need this,* he told himself. He closed his eyes as his face was lifted, and lips were pressed against his. He couldn't hold back the tears from falling from his eyes as Raymond paused and waited.
*This is it. He's asking me if I want to continue. I could back out now, leave and never look back,* Quatre thought to himself. But before the thought was even finished, Quatre was parting his lips. He'd lost. There was no turning back; there was nothing on that side anyway. There was only this, his last option.
Quatre gave in the last of his will as Raymond's fingers started undoing his shirt buttons.
~
Quatre turned on the shower, turning the dial to the hottest he could stand. He bit his lip against the pain of the steaming water as it hit his bare skin. Tears falling from his eyes, Quatre grabbed a brush. He scrubbed his skin as hard as he could, turning it a raw pink. He was sobbing the whole time, barely seeing the skin he was shredding.
Quatre's hand shook. He dropped the brush and fell to the shower floor, covering his face with his near-bleeding hands. Quatre wept. He hated himself and he hated what he'd done.
He wasn't sure how he had gotten to the shower, he didn't remember driving, he didn't even remember opening his door. The last he remembered was putting on his clothes and Raymond giving him a "goodbye kiss".
*Ray,* Quatre mentally reminded himself. *No! He'll never be Ray...I'll never be so friendly with him...*
Quatre clenched his mouth shut as he remembered what he'd done...He'd betrayed his love, he'd flawed perfection, he'd never be able to face him again...
"I'm sorry," Quatre whispered. "I'm so sorry, Heero." Quatre let out a half-scream, half-sob. He was shaking with rage, all aimed at himself.
*I've betrayed him. I've soiled him, soiled my once beautiful love. I can never help him, not now. I'm far too weak, too broken. I will never be worthy of him.*
He hugged himself, his nails digging into his skin, drawing blood.
"I will always be nothing," Quatre whispered.
~End Flashback~
Quatre tossed in bed, the memories haunting him in his dreams. He sat up, so quickly that his hair stuck to his tear-soaked cheeks. He brushed it back, feeling the freshly fallen tears dampening his hand.
"I hated it," he said aloud, not caring that he was talking to only himself. "I hated every moment, every touch...." His voice gave out.
In the months after that day, Quatre had nearly starved himself, trying to conserve the money. But eventually he had had to go back; eventually he needed Raymond again. It only happened a few times, and each time he would save his money, not allowing himself the smallest luxury. But he kept living, struggling to hold on to the life he had lost faith in.
Quatre exhaled, his breath shaking on his quivering lips. Bringing his knees up under his chin, Quatre let the tears run freely, not holding back, not guarding him self against the pain. He only wept. No thought, no blame, no self-pity, no self-hate, no shame. Just tears. Just release.
As his tears ran dry, and his eyes began to droop, Quatre
made a decision. It was time to let it go, it was time to free him self. In the
morning, he'd tell Wufei.
~I~ Trowa ~I~
Trowa lay on his bed, starring at the ceiling, but not really. He was lost in thought, looking, but not really seeing.
It had been four months since he had encountered the man known as Zechs Merquise, or Millrardo Peacecraft, to some.
Trowa's lips curled in a small smile. He was one of the few who could call him that, though he rarely did.
Trowa had been indulging in his secret obsession when he'd met up with the blond man.
Trowa closed his eyes, smiling softly as he recalled that night...
~Flashback~
The heavy beat drummed in his ears. He breathed it, tasted it, his heart beat with it. He moved, his body was no longer a part of him, but a tool that the music used as its image. He was the visualization of the music.
He cold feel the heat of the bodies near him, see the lights dance over his closed eyelids, he could smell the cigarette smoke, and the after-shave of someone near him, but it was separate, it didn't matter.
This was him, this was what he was. This is what he lived for, what he thought about when he was away, what kept him from screaming at his roommates, what kept him from falling apart during the war.
Trowa was a club addict.
The lights, the people, the music and most of all the dancing, were his drug, his addiction, his obsession. This was the only place he felt like he fit, felt like him self. Whether this was his true self or merely a part of him, he didn't know.
The song stopped, and Trowa blinked himself back to reality. Not caught up in the music anymore, he noticed just how thirsty he was. The song changed from fast-paced techno to slower trance as Trowa made his way to the bar. He ordered and sat down, allowing his body a short rest.
A man sat next to him. Trowa had allowed himself a quick glance, but found himself staring. The man wore a skin tight black t-shirt, showing off well built shoulders and arms, equally tight leather pants covered his bottom half, with a small inner nod of approval, Trowa noted that his legs were well muscled as well, dark sunglasses covered the mans eyes, but the most impressive thing about him, was his hair. His platinum-blond hair fell well past his lower back. It flowed over his shoulders and a few shorter wisps brushed against his cheeks as he leaned over the bar, smiling to the bartender as he ordered.
When the bartend was busy getting his drink, the man turned to Trowa, white teeth flashing in a smile. Trowa wished he could see the man's eyes, because he looked so familiar.
"I saw you out there," the man said, tipping his head to the masses of dancing people. He spoke only loud enough for Trowa and maybe the bartender to hear. "You're a great dancer, where did you learn that?" He accepted his drink, before turning his attention back on Trowa.
Trowa shrugged. "I never learned. I've always loved music, it just comes naturally when I hear it."
"Well..." The man lifted his classes, his ice-blue eyes looking Trowa over.
Trowa nearly choked. *Why didn't I notice before?*
No wonder he had looked familiar. The blond man was none other then Zechs Merquise, former enemy of the colonies, then the earth, but almost always the Gundam pilots.
Zechs restored his odd smile and slid his glasses back into place. "Well," he repeated. "I think I need to see you do what 'comes naturally' up close, would you like to dance?"
Trowa hesitated. It didn't seem like Zechs recognized him, but he couldn't be over careful, the ex-Tallgeese pilot might still hold a grudge. But he didn't hesitate long. Zechs' smile was infectious, Trowa felt himself mirror it as his doubts melted.
"Alright," he said, finishing off his drink.
Zechs stood and made his way to the mob of dancers with Trowa following. As they made their way to a less crowded spot, Zechs turned his head slightly. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he called.
Trowa's breath caught, though he didn't allow himself to stop moving, he couldn't help tensing at the question.
"You look familiar, though I can't think of where we could have met," Zechs went on.
Trowa didn't have time to answer because Zechs stopped, he'd found a somewhat empty piece of floor. He nodded to Trowa and started moving his hips to the beat.
Since Zechs seemed to not expect an answer, Trowa let go. He closed his eyes, loosing himself in the moment. He quickly found the beat and let his body move to it, not paying attention to what he was doing, just feeling.
As the song went on, Trowa could feel Zechs get closer, the feeling making his skin prickle. His breath quickened as he felt Zechs' hand brush against his hip. His eyes fluttered open. Zechs was smirking at him darkly. It gave Trowa the oddest feeling. Looking down, Trowa saw Zechs' hands hovering over his still moving hips. Feeling Zechs' own odd smile on his lips, Trowa put his hands over Zechs', pushing them onto his hips. Trowa glanced briefly at Zechs before closing his eyes, once again loosing himself in the music, and now, the feeling of Zechs' touch.
Taking Trowa's move as encouragement, Zechs moved closer, pressing his body against the younger man's. In time, Trowa moved his arms around his neck, pulling him down slightly so they were cheek to cheek. Eventually, they were pressed as close as possible, moving as one, both were absorbed in the music and the feel of each other against them.
Trowa was lost in a brief moment of intense stimulation. The music, Zechs, and the small amount of alcohol he'd consumed made Trowa's mind and body burn. But it was suddenly shattered.
"Trowa Barton." It was as simple as that, his name whispered into his ear.
Trowa tried to pull out of Zechs grip, but the other man just tightened it. Trowa was momentarily confused until Zechs blew gently into his ear, making him shiver and melt back into his arms.
"I remembered," Zechs murmured before starting to move to the music again.
Trowa took it as acceptance. Though maybe it wasn't wise to trust him so quickly, he didn't want the intense feelings to stop. Mind off of the subject, Trowa moved his hands to Zechs' chest, trailing his long, slender fingers down and under his shirt.
Zechs moaned deep in the throat, leaning into the slightly shorter man. Trowa could feel the dark smirk on his lips before Zechs' started sucking and nipping at his neck. Trowa's eyes fluttered closed as he indulged in the feelings Zechs' was giving him.
Trowa ran his fingers up Zechs' stomach, trailing his fingers over the hard muscles, reveling in the feel of his smooth skin. Zechs removed his lips from Trowa's neck and pulled away slightly. He tipped his head in the direction of the bar, silently asking. Trowa nodded quickly, unable to think straight.
Zechs smiled and started his way through the crowed, Trowa following closely behind. When they got there, Zechs went past the bar, to the far wall. He turned and was quickly pushed against the wall, Trowa trapping him in a fierce kiss. He responded quickly, ravishing Trowa's mouth. Trowa's hands found Zech's hair, pulling not-so-gently and making Zechs' scalp tingle. Zechs grabbed Trowa's waist, pressing them together as close as possible.
They broke away from the sense-searing kiss, both gasping for air. Zechs leaned down, his breath warm against Trowa's neck.
"I want you." He whispered.
Immediately, Trowa's body said yes, but he forced himself to consider the consequences. He would be jumping into bed with a former enemy...
*We were on the same side, towards the end...*
Who was practically a stranger...
*We've met before...*
And...
Trowa's thoughts melted away as Zechs blew gently in his ear. "Are you still there?" he asked, his voice was so low it rumbled deep in his chest.
"Yes..." Trowa breathed.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked, running a finger down Trowa's thigh.
"Yes."
~End Flashback~
*And it all went downhill from there,* Trowa thought with a small smile.
He lifted his arms, tucking them under his head as he watched the stars outside his window.
"Zechs..." he breathed.
The blond man with an evil smirk... Trowa couldn't get him out of his mind.
That first night, Trowa was sure that it was a one-time thing, a meaningless fit of passion that he'd look back on and wonder what he was thinking. But when he'd gone back to the club and seen the other man, something compelled him to walk over. He'd been rewarded with that smirk he'd began to worship, and to his surprise, and -he thought with a smile- delight, a kiss that was just a passionate as the ones they had exchanged before.
Over the months, those 'meetings' got more frequent, eventually evolving into what they had now. They began trusting each other more, telling each other where they lived, what they had done after the wars, why they went to clubs. Trowa found out that Zechs felt the same as he did, that he didn't fit anywhere else, the fulfillment he had been seeking during the war, he'd found there afterward.
When Trowa had found himself falling in love with Zechs, he'd been afraid. He'd never truly loved anyone before, and wasn't sure if Zechs felt what he did. Even though they talked a little, their whole relationship was based solely on sex. But once, as Zechs pulled away from one of their softer kisses, the words had spilled out, he hadn't intended to say them.
"I love you," Trowa whispered the words, both then, and as he sat in his bed remembering them.
At the time, Trowa had looked away, confused by his lack of control. How could he just say something like that? He felt a hand on his chin. Zechs brought his gaze back to him. He had smiled softly, not the dark one Trowa usually saw. His dark glasses had been discarded earlier, and Trowa could see the softness in his clear blue eyes.
"I love you too," Zechs had said softly, before kissing him again.
Trowa touched his lips at the memory. They were cold from the breeze coming from the open window. Getting up, Trowa shut it, standing a moment to look out at the dark night.
He loved Zechs Merquise. With every bone, muscle, cell and breath in his body, Trowa loved Zechs Merquise. And it healed his war-scared heart, to know that somewhere out there, the pale-haired man loved him too.
With an "uncharacteristic" sigh, Trowa climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over his cold skin. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep to the thought that somewhere, someone loved him.
Zechs Merquise loved him.
To be continued...
~~~~
Oh! I hate myself for what I did to Quatre! But I made it up with the Trowa fluff I think. And the little touchy-ness too ^_~ Hope ya liked. You know what I want ^_^ words of any sort are cherished.
Nikki :-P