SWEET DARKNESS

Part 12

They did lock him after all; and they took away his saber. The latter didn't matter - he wasn't going to go violent anyway. With all this time at his disposal, alone in the room too cold to sleep, Trowa had come to some decisions. There must've been a way to find Quatre - or to find out if he was okay. Please, Trowa thought, please let him be okay... even if I won't ever see him again.

But to start searching, he at least had to be out. Une understood it as well; or perhaps she was not satisfied with his repentance yet.

He got a book on the history of the Order, the regulations and the book of oaths as his company - the reading that was supposed to turn Trowa on the right track of mind. He read them; he prayed and repented kneeling, three times a day, as it was expected. But, maybe, for Une his unceasing pacing told more than his proper behavior. Trowa knew it was unreasonable to give himself away like that but his anxiety was too strong, and again he found himself measuring the perimeter of the room... like he'd done in prison cell a few weeks ago.

Then he grew so weak that walking became an ordeal.

One time after he got locked, a robot brought him food and pushed it through the opening in the door. But later there was nothing. Fasting was a normal penance for lawbreakers, so, Trowa wasn't surprised. There was water in the tap and it was good because it meant he didn't need to suffer with thirst as well. He felt hunger pains only first two days and ignored them quite easily - and then there was just weakness.

Trowa stopped walking finally and just lay in bed, facing the door, waiting for it to open. It must've opened, sooner or later - they were not going to let him die, right?

He thought he started having hallucinations from long staring when the window on the door suddenly opened and an apple rolled through it and landed on the floor. Trowa blinked but it didn't go away, so he got off the bed cautiously and picked it up. It was big, hard and red and smelled beautifully. It smelled so good, in fact, that for a few moments Trowa couldn't believe it its reality.

"Hey, are you going to eat it?" a thin voice came from behind the door. The shutter of the door was slightly raised. Trowa came closer, looked through it and met a gaze of very black bright eyes glistening from under a dark fringe. "Eat it before they find out."

"Thank you," he said, slightly lost, and bit into the apple.

"Ugh-ghu," the girl said. "I'm Susanne."

She was standing on a stool, he could notice, to be able to look into the opening. She looked like a doll in her tight-fitting uniform, with a small saber and a cap of smooth black hair. She tilted her head awry, listening to the sounds in the corridor.

"Be careful," Trowa said. "They'll punish you if they see you here."

"I am careful," she said and Trowa knew she meant it. She had that usual feeling of a Misque disciple around herself - so serious, so dignified; even as they were talking through the half-raised shutter. And then something glittered in her eyes. "Why did they lock you? Because you wanted to see that boy?"

He felt a pang of apprehension at her words; she knew about Quatre... Susanne seemed just of the right age, could she be the one who carried the vaccine now?

"Did you see him?" he asked with faltering voice. She nodded and suddenly pulled her jacket up. A scar under her ribs was long and glaring red.

"Does it hurt?" Trowa asked quietly.

"No. Not any more." She added seriously. "In the beginning it did. And your friend - he was hurt, too."

It was nothing Trowa didn't suspect - but knowing it for sure suddenly made him feel weak. He pressed his forehead to the door, waiting anguish to let him go.

"He's strong," Susanne said. "Almost like a Misque."

There was stinging in his eyes and Trowa struggled, knowing that tears were so close. Of course, Quatre was strong. His beautiful boy, his little prince was strong and brave. Trowa's vision became blurry but he raised his head and smiled at Susanne.

"Did he draw that?" she asked suddenly plucking a folded paper from under her jacket.

The lush forest of startling colors - emerald of leaves, blue and red and yellow of exotic birds; and among green, a long stealing body of a great black cat, a brown bulk of a bear, golden coils of a huge snake... Trowa had thought the drawing was lost, gone with his clothes, maybe, burnt. He missed it so much.

"I know this book," Susanne said.

"Ah?"

"The book," she repeated. "It's about jungles, about a boy who was lost and brought up by wolves. He didn't draw the boy, did he? My mother read the book to me."

Trowa couldn't let the paper go. His fingers clasped on it too hard. But it was all he had left from Quatre, wasn't it? He managed to take control over himself finally.

"When did your mother give you away?" It probably was not so long time ago, if Susanne remembered what she was read; it must've been so difficult for her, at this age.

"She didn't give me away," the girl said seriously. "She wouldn't ever do such a thing. She always said if she was to have a child above the quote, she would better leave Nevis than give her own child away. She died," Susanne finished abruptly.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He saw her blink quickly, her eyes wet. Then she looked up.

"It's okay. Une loves me. She takes care of me. She trusted me to carry the vaccine. It's an honor."

"Don't you feel bad?" Trowa knew she wasn't supposed to but it still surprised him.

"Not at all," she shook her head. "And, anyway, soon we'll pass the vaccine to the Coalition. Une is negotiating now. Soon we'll go to the Northern Region and give it away. It'll be so interesting! I'll see new places! I haven't seen anything but Nevis and this place..."

She suddenly stopped on a half-phrase, rolled down from the stool.

"Someone's going! Bye!"

"Bye," Trowa said letting the shutter fall.

The apple tasted wonderful. He tried to make it last as long as possible but it didn't quite work. Then he just lay touching Quatre's drawing with the tips of his fingers.

***********************************************************

It turned out I'd spent four days unconscious after being brought to the hospital and having my spleen removed. It cost way more money that I had. Megan, the kind nurse, asked whether I by chance had an insurance. I said 'no', I never had one. She still made me give her my name and checked it in the system.

"No, you don't," she agreed with a sigh. "All right, maybe, the doctor will come up with something. She won't want you to go to the street in your state."

I really had no idea what to do; they could've kicked me out now but I still had nothing to pay with.

"I can sign a contract and pay as I earn," I suggested when Doctor Po appeared.

"And how are you going to earn?" she asked with a frown on her strong-featured face.

Well, I wasn't going to discuss it. In fact, I wasn't sure I would be able to earn money as before. What good was I when a man touching me made me freak out, sent me into unbeatable panic? But if I had to, I knew I would be able to cope with it. After all, they'd saved my life at this hospital.

"All right," finally Doctor Po said with a wince. "Stay here until you get well - and then we'll decide something."

It was two days later she came to my ward glowing quietly, excitement filling her eyes.

"You know what, Quatre?" She sat on my bed, which was unusual, and she smiled - with was even more unusual. "I've got your blood test. I thought there was something, so, I sent it to re-check. Have you ever been in the Northern Region? Well, I meant to ask if you ever had seizure-flu."

I didn't know what to answer, so, I nodded.

"It's amazing. Seizure-flu, even if a patient survives, doesn't leave immunity. But you have it in your blood."

It must've been the aftereffect of the capsule.

"In fact," she continued, "it's so strong it's apparently possible to make a vaccine... It can save so many lives."

It wasn't necessary, I wanted to say; Trowa had delivered the vaccine, and the Northern Region would receive it soon. But I didn't know if I could talk about it.

"It's amazing," Doctor Poe repeated. I just nodded. She looked at me and then said with a sigh. "You're a good kid, Quatre, but you're so quiet. You aren't in pain, are you? Megan can give you something."

"I'm okay," I said.

"Well," she shook her head. "We'll work together now, right? And a good thing is that you'll stay here so far. Actually, you won't get away from me until we're through," she added gently.

It was good I could stay here so far. When she left, I turned away and stared at the wall - as I usually did.

***********************************************************

They finally came for him. Trowa got fresh clothes, boots, his saber back and a proper meal. The men treated him indifferently but without condemnation, so, he thought he must've redeemed his fault. He felt anxious about being let go, left alone - wanted to get to the computer and start checking whether he could find Quatre. It was hardly a good way but at least he could check... he couldn't bear the thought of it - he could check if Quatre was on the lists of dead.

But a man called Daniel never left his side - and there were others around - and then the General appeared. Trowa saw Susanne at her side, caught a short sly gaze the girl cast at him.

"I'm pleased to inform you that negotiations with the Coalition of the Northern Region has just completed. They fully agreed to our conditions. So, we'll starting there tomorrow."

Despite his weariness, Trowa felt a wave of excitement, probably induced from others, felt the familiar pride for the Order, pleasure of being a part of something so good and so powerful. Une waited until restrained exultation stopped, then raised her delicate hand.

"The delegation will consist of me, General Une, the leader of the delegation; Captain Daniel Hayes; Adjutant Masanori Aono; Adjutant Darla Aster; Lieutenant Trowa Barton; Disciple Susanne Wright."

Her beautiful eyes stopped at Trowa as she mentioned his name. She hadn't lied telling him that he would participate in the final procedure. Well, a Misque General wouldn't lie, would she?

"See you all tomorrow at five," she said. "Daniel, check that Lieutenant Barton stays in his room till departure, will you? He isn't fit to walk around much yet."

It wasn't right! Unfairness of it shocked and sickened him. Trowa needed time alone, he needed a computer - had to do something to find Quatre... If only he knew Quatre was alive - it would change everything. Then he would do whatever Une and others wanted him to do.

He thought he could make a deal with her.

"Sir, I need..."

"Please, Lieutenant," she winced as if he was causing her headache. "I thought you learned your lesson. In any case, I don't feel up to arguing with you any more. You go to your room now, tomorrow we all go to the Northern Region and then I'll pass you to our brothers from Nevis. I'm sure they'll find a way to come to understanding with you."

If she hadn't said it, if she'd just let him make the search - everything probably would have been different.

He spent the night looking at the dark-green sky through the huge window of his room.

It was so difficult. The Order was his only home, the place where he was always accepted. Even punishing, they never turned away from him, never rejected him. Everything they did was just to keep him as a part of the Order. As long as he was with Misques, he never had to feel alone. He always had a place where to go.

He thought about Zechs, rejected by his own people and not accepted among humans. This fate scared him so much... Then, in prison, Zechs had been right - it was what Trowa feared most of all. He recalled how Zechs walked away from them in the spaceport - to nowhere; it still filled him with sadness and sense of wrongness to think about it. But there were things that caused him more anguish - so much anguish, in fact, that Trowa wasn't sure he would be able to live with it - with knowing that he'd left Quatre alone, never done anything to find the boy.

In the morning Daniel came up for him. Trowa followed the rest of the delegation for the early breakfast and then the air-car took them to the spaceport. On the backseat, Susanne took the place between him and Daniel, and Trowa was grateful for it. He could feel her bird-like light body pressed against his side and he liked it. She kept silent - they weren't supposed to know each other, apparently, and Susanne was good at keeping secrets - but her small hand touched his once or twice, as if accidentally, and Trowa felt sad and warm with it.

The girl still had so much of a homely child in her; in few years she probably would become just like any other Misque.

The lounge where they waited for the flight was a glass cupola with huge deep armchairs. Only two groups settled there so far: Misques and a delegation of Sillarians - their black round bodies shining in the rising sun, their long thin tentacles touching unceasingly as they carried on their tactile conversation.

A robot suggested drinks. Trowa took a few sips of orange juice and thought it was even better that Sillarians were here. The aliens had to use speech-adapters to talk with humans but they understood everything. Misques wouldn't allow a scandal in front of them.

He put the glass on the robot's tray and got up.

"Where're you going, Trowa?" Une looked up at him from the book she read, her gaze tired and slightly miffed.

"I quit," he said. Oh God, till the last moment he wasn't sure he could say these words. But then he said them - had broken his oath; and nothing happened, he didn't fall through the ground. It didn't become easy either - but at least there was no way back.

"Sit down," Une said. It looked like she didn't understand, just wanted him not to stand out in front of the aliens.

"Good bye," Trowa said. He wanted to say special good-bye for Susanne but didn't want to endanger the girl. Her eyes and mouth were round as she looked at him. He walked to the door.

"Daniel, follow him," Une said behind him. Trowa turned to her.

"You won't try to stop me, will you? It will be most embarrassing."

He walked out of the lounge and the glass door closed behind him. He couldn't afford lingering, so, he kept going.

"Barton!" It was Daniel's voice; the man did follow him, after all.

"What? Are you going to paralyze me..." he started, looking back - and suddenly in front of his eyes the transparent dome of the lounge burst out in fountains of glass. There was no sound - and it made the picture completely unreal, like some crazy dream. It only seems to me, Trowa had time to think - and then something heavy, like a huge paw, hit him. The world swirled around him - and darkness came.

When he could see again, it was the floor he saw in front of his eyes. Or he thought it was the floor; bright geometric ornaments that decorated it were barely visible now, hidden under a layer of crushed glass. Glass was smeared in red - and for some reason Trowa didn't like how it looked, even if he couldn't quite find a word for it.

He moved a little - and saw a few prone bodies, on the right and in front of him. One man didn't move - but a woman next to him knelt and her mouth was opened as she pressed her arm to her chest. There were muscles visible in her arm and white bones, and Trowa understood suddenly that she was screaming.

He didn't hear it; he heard nothing. People were running away and towards him but it was so quiet - just steady rustle of blood in his ears. Trowa got on his knees and saw Daniel. The man lay on the floor, face down, and long slivers of glass stuck from his jacket-covered back. There was such awkwardness in the position of his arms and legs that Trowa knew at once he was dead, even before seeing a huge pool of red spreading under him.

Behind Daniel, there was the lounge. Or there must have been - because it wasn't there. Just heaps of glass and plastic piled on its place.

It couldn't be; it must've been some mistake... his imagination... It just couldn't have happened. Trowa walked towards the crushed heap of debris. The floor seemed to rock under his feet and there was something that hindered him to walk but he didn't pay attention.

He saw Sillarians first, their black bodies thickly coated in green of their blood. And then there was wine-red - of Misque uniform - and broken bodies on the floor. A terrible feeling of deja vu flooded him. He had seen it before - his comrades lying dead on the floor of the hangar in morph prison. But this wasn't a memory; it was real.

Glass among glass broke under his foot. Une's spectacles. And then he saw a smaller body among adult ones - a broken doll left by a giant child. He fell on his knees on the shattered glass and picked Susanne up.

The front of Susanne's jacket was soggy with blood and torn - and in thick red Trowa saw black splinters of broken capsule stuck there. Her eyes were opened, not even dulled yet - and there was a surprised, uncomprehending expression frozen in them.

He felt warmth of her face as he closed her eyes - and her blood was soaking into his clothes as he pressed her to his chest. He shook in dry, racking sobs. Someone touched his shoulder. He reacted violently, jerking away. A man in police uniform said something but Trowa couldn't hear a word. There was just this quiet noise in his ears and that's all.

//"Give her to me."// He finally understood what the man said but it didn't mean he was going to obey.

"W-why d-did they do it?" he asked. He suddenly realized he was stammering; it didn't happen to him before. The man's eyes got a compassionate look in them. Trowa knew he said something, probably answered Trowa's question.

Another man took Susanne from his hands - and then there was a doctor next to him. Obtrusive hands patted him all over. He wanted to shake them off, to say he was okay. Then he understood what bothered him all the time, even though he didn't feel pain. A fragment of his own saber stuck from his side. Trowa reached to pull it out but the doctor got agitated suddenly, brushed his hands away - and then an oxygen mask was put on his face and he felt very light-headed. He didn't resist when they put him on stretchers and took him somewhere. He just didn't care.

* * *

He didn't care what they did to him. He would prefer they stopped fussing around him but to tell them that meant start arguing, and Trowa didn't want it. Finally they left him alone, after taking out the piece of the saber and a few splinters of glass. No one bothered him any more; there were other people in the ward but they all were too wrapped up in their own suffering to pay him attention. Silence enveloped him like a swaying shroud.

Well, the truth was he started hearing just a little. Bits and pieces - just enough to understand that he was considered 'lucky'; that the explosion was an attempt of assassination of Sillarian delegation - a successful attempt, obviously; that the blast was so strong there were over thirty wounded among those who just had been near to the lounge.

So, he had his answer to 'why'; or hadn't he? There could be no answer, no explanation as to why Susanne had to die. The same was about Une and others; and how many more lives would be lost because now the vaccine was destroyed. But it was Susanne Trowa mostly thought about.

In some way, the thoughts of her were connected in his mind to the thoughts of Quatre; her death amplified his loss. She was gone - just like Quatre was gone. Trowa lost both of them. He never could protect anyone who was near to him; neither the girl who was so kind to him, nor the boy who trusted him. He failed them both.

Trowa would hate himself - but instead of self-hatred there was just emptiness inside him. He didn't want anything; he didn't want to exist - to get attached to someone else, to lose someone else. It would be better if he just let it go.

Shadows flickered in front of his eyes, from the big TV screen - his neighbors watched news. It didn't bother him; nothing did. There was numbness spreading through him slowly - and Trowa knew soon he wouldn't feel sad any more. Everything would just be gone.

There was some movement next to him but he refused to look, refused to hear, wrapping himself deeper in his cocoon of solitude. And then something made him look and he turned - and there was Quatre looking down at him, his huge dark-blue eyes full of worry.

At the next moment Quatre's eyes brightened, his small hands lay on Trowa's face and he said something, Trowa couldn't discern what.

"Y-you're real, aren't you?" It was a silly question - no hallucination could feel so real as the hands cupping his cheeks - but Trowa had to make sure. Quatre nodded eagerly; there was a smile on his lips but his eyelashes trembled as if he was going to cry. "You're okay..."

"Yes," Quatre said, and now Trowa could hear him, better with every word. "I saw the news, about the explosion, and that there were Misques there. And they brought the wounded to our hospital, and I thought you could be there, so, I looked for you and found you..."

Of course, it was Quatre; who else could talk that much without breaking for a breath?

"G-good," Trowa said. "That you f-found me."

Quatre's eyes went round.

"You're stammering! It must be shellshock. But it'll pass, I know it'll pass soon."

Trowa looked at him, frowning, recalling how Quatre said 'our hospital', taking in his hospital shirt. He wanted to ask so much but Quatre's soft palm covered his mouth.

"No, don't talk! You must not. You have to rest, have to be quiet."

I don't want to be quiet, Trowa thought, I almost went too far into quietness. He caught Quatre's hands and pulled him closer - and after a little resistance the boy climbed on his bed, pressed towards him. Quatre's thin arms wrapped around Trowa's neck. He felt Quatre's warm breath tickle on his neck and moved getting even closer.

"Careful, you'll hurt yourself," Quatre said insistently - and then whispered in a small voice, his fingertips touching Trowa's face tentatively. "Please get well, okay?"

It was bliss; he could spend all his life like that, with Quatre pressed to his side, feeling the boy's skinny form in his arms, with fluttering touching of Quatre's fingers on his face. But there was something he needed to say, so, he moved to be able to face Quatre.

"Will you stay with me forever?" he asked. "Please don't leave me."

Dark-blue of Quatre's eyes was so deep he could drown there - wanted to drown there.

"But how..." Quatre started and Trowa knew what he was going to ask - and it was easy to answer.

"I left the Order."

"Oh."

"It's nothing. Will you just be with me?"

Quatre's arms tighten around him - and he knew it was the answer, knew it when Quatre pressed his head to Trowa's shoulder, his hot forehead and soft hair against Trowa's collarbones. But he still was glad when he heard the boy whisper quietly with his face hidden:

"Of course, Trowa. Of course, I will."

To be continued

Well, you don't think that's all, do you? There are two more chapters. If you want them, that is :-) Another twist of fate... And then there are Treize, Zechs and Wufei, don't forget about them :-) So, shall we continue?