Title: I Wonder What They're Doing Now
Warnings: Er..stuff =D *blinks* Find out for yourself ¬¬
Disclaimer: I do not own the pilots or anything related to Gundam Wing ¬¬ *mumbles about injustice* If Duos Pikachu plushie or Heeros cat Shinigami were to suddenly appear somewhere in this fic, that is mine ^^
'Tea-time' as it were, passed on in silence. Quatre seemed a bit nervous, he'd downed a full eight cups of tea. Past his usual recommendation of six. Heero was starting to wonder if anything was wrong with the blonde Arabian, but dared not question it. It might appear a flaw, asking others how they feel. He would get involved in emotions when he already had plenty of his own to suppress, and if he was able to, destroy. Though this was rarely the case.
Grasping for a topic, opening his mouth to speak several times but faltering, Quatre looked slightly depressed where he was sitting. From his expression, he was obviously thinking deeply about something.
"What are you thinking about." slipped from Heero's mouth without him even noticing it did. He bit back his tongue, regretting having lost control even though it was only for the time when he said the sentence. Quatre, startled, looked up from the remains of his tea.
"Oh…nothing much, Heero. How's the tea?"
It seemed as if Quatre didn't want to talk about it, and it was just as well to Heero. He was tripping, and had been ever since Quatre had arrived. It was too hard, even for him, to remain stoic and serious in the presence of someone he had shared his past with. He was starting to wonder how, if ever, he would react to seeing Duo again.
/=/Duo…/=/ his mind drifted slightly, but he pulled himself back to reality harshly but tearing at the soft flesh on the underside of his arm. He drew blood. Thin red-tainted marks covered both of his arms, resulted from the short time he'd been seated at the table with Quatre. It was amazing how thoughts that he could have taken into consideration during the four year interval now attacked him all at once. He watched the sore skin slowly settle down after the attacks, and turned his attention back to his tea. And as if it was nothing of importance, Quatre suddenly blurted out a question.
"You haven't…seen Trowa for the past years, have you?" He stirred his tea feverishly with his spoon, trying his best to act as if the query wasn't odd at all.
But it was. He didn't have close contact with Trowa? Most would have expected them to be living together, at LEAST, by this stage. Heero raised an eyebrow in silent questioning, and Quatre did his bidding.
"After the war…well…we lost contact." Quatre stated unsurely, wondering if that would suffice. Seeing the slightly bewildered look on his friends face, he changed his words around.
"Heero, I have no idea where Trowa is. It's almost as if he's hiding!" Quatre bashed his head several times against the table, sending ripples across the surface of the tea.
"I've looked everywhere for him." he mumbled, and looked up at Heero with large distant eyes.
"I haven't seen him for three years…it's driving me insane…" He returned his face to stare at the floor again, thinking in guilt and sorrow about the possibilities which lay behind Trowas sudden 'disappearance.'
"You left with him." The Japanese pilot said, referring to when both Trowa and Quatre had come to the hospital ward to bid Heero goodbye as he lay stiff and silent on his bed. They'd said their goodbyes, he remembered. Quatre had hugged him swiftly, and Trowa had laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving him a silent word of farewell, in a language only the quiet pilots understood. He remembered having remained as he was. A statue. Dead, he had wished. They didn't know he was watching them as they left the room hand in hand, and turned the corner down the corridor.
"Yes…Three years, Heero. Not four." Quatre stared at the cup, having lost interest in it completely.
"Hai. Three indeed." was all he got in return. For some reason, Quatre felt obligated to tell the whole story. More silence from the person he was conversing with, meant there was a gap to fill somewhere. This time, it was clear that Heero wanted a form of explanation. It was easy for Quatre to discuss things like this. He loved Trowa, and he showed his despair of having 'lost' him without hesitation.
/=/He's so much like Duo…they always were alike…I wonder if Duo's searching for –me-…/=/ Heero thought to himself, weighing out the probability of that idea in his mind. Convincing himself that he didn't care less wasn't working too well anymore. The old 'ignorance' plan was failing. The more he watched Quatre, the more the Arab seemed to have a part of Duo embedded in him. It was painful to watch.
/=/ Or maybe he's forgotten./=/ Even thinking that hurt. The gloomy kind of pain, of anger and betrayal. The one that starts in the pit of your stomach, and works its way up your throat, pinching and thrashing to create a choked feeling. Heero quickly turned his attention back to Quatre, and the SandRock pilot was prompted to begin his explanation.
"It was odd, really…one minute he was there, the next he wasn't. He got a phone call… Middle of the night… left in a hurry in the morning, saying something about Catherine… " Quatre shook his head, straining his memory.
"I can't remember. I was half asleep when he took off. It didn't really register with me until I pulled myself out of bed a few hours later."
"And he didn't come back." Heero finished for him.
"No…He didn't come back," Quatre mumbled, and a shiver ran up his spine," I tried calling them…but the circus has never been very big. Always moving around. It'd be a miracle if I could find it. I TRIED to find it, I did!" Quatre's voice was raised, and he looked on the verge of tears. Guilt was reflected across his eyes. He was feeling horrible for not being able to find Trowa, and at the same time extremely bitter and angry for being left without a decent explanation. He and Heero had something in common then. Which rarely happened on any other occasion. They both felt hurt. Though Quatre didn't know of the similarity; Heero didn't reveal it.
A slight smile appeared on Quatres lips. From some source deep in his mind, he'd regained his hope and trust in Trowa. He couldn't stay angry at the uni-banged man for long. Who could? Trowa, with his silent sincere ways. His calm and cool attitude. He wasn't the life of the party, but who says life has to be rowdy and boisterous? Trowa was…well, he was Trowa. Nothing more was needed.
"Long day. The guest room is ready and made for you." Heero said, and without another word, wheeled himself over to the counter to dispose of the cups in the sink. Quatre nodded gratefully and scooped up his bag.
"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." He rested his hand momentarily on Heero's turned shoulder, before heading up the sloping stairs to the second floor. Shinigami walked into the kitchen, seeming to have recovered from his bout of anger at his master and leapt, purring, into his lap. He was given a quick pat, and that was all he needed. It seemed that the cat, though greeted somewhat coldly by Heero, would never stay away from him for long. He was bound to his friend, and wouldn't leave him for the world. Cats are honest. Barriers don't disturb them, as they do humans. They simply walk right through, as if it wasn't there to begin with. Satisfied, Shinigami leapt off again and trotted lazily up the stairs towards the bedroom.
A few minutes later, Heero turned off the lights on the main switch by the stairs, double checking the door, and pushed himself up the ramp to his bedroom. He let his mind wander freely for a moment, as he struggled slightly to undress himself, aiming his shirt at the chair. But his lack of concentration led it to land with a soft 'flump' on the file cabinet, slipping down and clinging to the handle of a drawer further down.
/=/Stop reminding me. I don't want to be reminded./=/ Heero glared at the shirt as if it'd been sent from hell. But once again his thoughts were sidetracked onto Duo. He wanted to be indifferent. He didn't want to care. He didn't WANT to live like this.
Shinigami watched him from the dresser, reading his thoughts from his expression. Gracefully he bounded over to the file cabinet, and pawed at the cold metal handle. It was as if he was answering Heero's question. He didn't want to live like this.
And all he had to do, was change it.
"You too, huh." Heero sneered angrily at the cat who whined in attempt to make the cabinet magically open, effortlessly pushing himself off the wheel chair and squirming backwards across the bed, and pulled the covers up to his chest. He stared at the roof, trying to think of something else to occupy his mind.
But he still felt hurt. What if Duo had forgotten him? What if…what if he was just a distant memory of the past, or not even that?
/=/Goddamnit! You don't like Duo, remember!?/=/
He was lying. Again. Apart from his unwillingness to cooperate with his heart, his determination to be a human robot, and refusal to let go of the freezing cold attitude – from pride and dignity - there was nothing to keep him from Duo. It was only himself.
Himself
A few old paper files.
And a thin metal sheet.
He just had to accept that he wanted it.
To Be Continued
A/N: Ah…it's about 11:30 pm now…and I have a math test tomorrow x.X I feel dead. Well, it's another chapter…and we're drawing nearer to Duo's appearance…which might come as a bit of a surprise…^-^ *Smiles evilly, and skips off* R&R please, and thanks to those who've reviewed so far! ^.^
Warnings: Er..stuff =D *blinks* Find out for yourself ¬¬
Disclaimer: I do not own the pilots or anything related to Gundam Wing ¬¬ *mumbles about injustice* If Duos Pikachu plushie or Heeros cat Shinigami were to suddenly appear somewhere in this fic, that is mine ^^
'Tea-time' as it were, passed on in silence. Quatre seemed a bit nervous, he'd downed a full eight cups of tea. Past his usual recommendation of six. Heero was starting to wonder if anything was wrong with the blonde Arabian, but dared not question it. It might appear a flaw, asking others how they feel. He would get involved in emotions when he already had plenty of his own to suppress, and if he was able to, destroy. Though this was rarely the case.
Grasping for a topic, opening his mouth to speak several times but faltering, Quatre looked slightly depressed where he was sitting. From his expression, he was obviously thinking deeply about something.
"What are you thinking about." slipped from Heero's mouth without him even noticing it did. He bit back his tongue, regretting having lost control even though it was only for the time when he said the sentence. Quatre, startled, looked up from the remains of his tea.
"Oh…nothing much, Heero. How's the tea?"
It seemed as if Quatre didn't want to talk about it, and it was just as well to Heero. He was tripping, and had been ever since Quatre had arrived. It was too hard, even for him, to remain stoic and serious in the presence of someone he had shared his past with. He was starting to wonder how, if ever, he would react to seeing Duo again.
/=/Duo…/=/ his mind drifted slightly, but he pulled himself back to reality harshly but tearing at the soft flesh on the underside of his arm. He drew blood. Thin red-tainted marks covered both of his arms, resulted from the short time he'd been seated at the table with Quatre. It was amazing how thoughts that he could have taken into consideration during the four year interval now attacked him all at once. He watched the sore skin slowly settle down after the attacks, and turned his attention back to his tea. And as if it was nothing of importance, Quatre suddenly blurted out a question.
"You haven't…seen Trowa for the past years, have you?" He stirred his tea feverishly with his spoon, trying his best to act as if the query wasn't odd at all.
But it was. He didn't have close contact with Trowa? Most would have expected them to be living together, at LEAST, by this stage. Heero raised an eyebrow in silent questioning, and Quatre did his bidding.
"After the war…well…we lost contact." Quatre stated unsurely, wondering if that would suffice. Seeing the slightly bewildered look on his friends face, he changed his words around.
"Heero, I have no idea where Trowa is. It's almost as if he's hiding!" Quatre bashed his head several times against the table, sending ripples across the surface of the tea.
"I've looked everywhere for him." he mumbled, and looked up at Heero with large distant eyes.
"I haven't seen him for three years…it's driving me insane…" He returned his face to stare at the floor again, thinking in guilt and sorrow about the possibilities which lay behind Trowas sudden 'disappearance.'
"You left with him." The Japanese pilot said, referring to when both Trowa and Quatre had come to the hospital ward to bid Heero goodbye as he lay stiff and silent on his bed. They'd said their goodbyes, he remembered. Quatre had hugged him swiftly, and Trowa had laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving him a silent word of farewell, in a language only the quiet pilots understood. He remembered having remained as he was. A statue. Dead, he had wished. They didn't know he was watching them as they left the room hand in hand, and turned the corner down the corridor.
"Yes…Three years, Heero. Not four." Quatre stared at the cup, having lost interest in it completely.
"Hai. Three indeed." was all he got in return. For some reason, Quatre felt obligated to tell the whole story. More silence from the person he was conversing with, meant there was a gap to fill somewhere. This time, it was clear that Heero wanted a form of explanation. It was easy for Quatre to discuss things like this. He loved Trowa, and he showed his despair of having 'lost' him without hesitation.
/=/He's so much like Duo…they always were alike…I wonder if Duo's searching for –me-…/=/ Heero thought to himself, weighing out the probability of that idea in his mind. Convincing himself that he didn't care less wasn't working too well anymore. The old 'ignorance' plan was failing. The more he watched Quatre, the more the Arab seemed to have a part of Duo embedded in him. It was painful to watch.
/=/ Or maybe he's forgotten./=/ Even thinking that hurt. The gloomy kind of pain, of anger and betrayal. The one that starts in the pit of your stomach, and works its way up your throat, pinching and thrashing to create a choked feeling. Heero quickly turned his attention back to Quatre, and the SandRock pilot was prompted to begin his explanation.
"It was odd, really…one minute he was there, the next he wasn't. He got a phone call… Middle of the night… left in a hurry in the morning, saying something about Catherine… " Quatre shook his head, straining his memory.
"I can't remember. I was half asleep when he took off. It didn't really register with me until I pulled myself out of bed a few hours later."
"And he didn't come back." Heero finished for him.
"No…He didn't come back," Quatre mumbled, and a shiver ran up his spine," I tried calling them…but the circus has never been very big. Always moving around. It'd be a miracle if I could find it. I TRIED to find it, I did!" Quatre's voice was raised, and he looked on the verge of tears. Guilt was reflected across his eyes. He was feeling horrible for not being able to find Trowa, and at the same time extremely bitter and angry for being left without a decent explanation. He and Heero had something in common then. Which rarely happened on any other occasion. They both felt hurt. Though Quatre didn't know of the similarity; Heero didn't reveal it.
A slight smile appeared on Quatres lips. From some source deep in his mind, he'd regained his hope and trust in Trowa. He couldn't stay angry at the uni-banged man for long. Who could? Trowa, with his silent sincere ways. His calm and cool attitude. He wasn't the life of the party, but who says life has to be rowdy and boisterous? Trowa was…well, he was Trowa. Nothing more was needed.
"Long day. The guest room is ready and made for you." Heero said, and without another word, wheeled himself over to the counter to dispose of the cups in the sink. Quatre nodded gratefully and scooped up his bag.
"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." He rested his hand momentarily on Heero's turned shoulder, before heading up the sloping stairs to the second floor. Shinigami walked into the kitchen, seeming to have recovered from his bout of anger at his master and leapt, purring, into his lap. He was given a quick pat, and that was all he needed. It seemed that the cat, though greeted somewhat coldly by Heero, would never stay away from him for long. He was bound to his friend, and wouldn't leave him for the world. Cats are honest. Barriers don't disturb them, as they do humans. They simply walk right through, as if it wasn't there to begin with. Satisfied, Shinigami leapt off again and trotted lazily up the stairs towards the bedroom.
A few minutes later, Heero turned off the lights on the main switch by the stairs, double checking the door, and pushed himself up the ramp to his bedroom. He let his mind wander freely for a moment, as he struggled slightly to undress himself, aiming his shirt at the chair. But his lack of concentration led it to land with a soft 'flump' on the file cabinet, slipping down and clinging to the handle of a drawer further down.
/=/Stop reminding me. I don't want to be reminded./=/ Heero glared at the shirt as if it'd been sent from hell. But once again his thoughts were sidetracked onto Duo. He wanted to be indifferent. He didn't want to care. He didn't WANT to live like this.
Shinigami watched him from the dresser, reading his thoughts from his expression. Gracefully he bounded over to the file cabinet, and pawed at the cold metal handle. It was as if he was answering Heero's question. He didn't want to live like this.
And all he had to do, was change it.
"You too, huh." Heero sneered angrily at the cat who whined in attempt to make the cabinet magically open, effortlessly pushing himself off the wheel chair and squirming backwards across the bed, and pulled the covers up to his chest. He stared at the roof, trying to think of something else to occupy his mind.
But he still felt hurt. What if Duo had forgotten him? What if…what if he was just a distant memory of the past, or not even that?
/=/Goddamnit! You don't like Duo, remember!?/=/
He was lying. Again. Apart from his unwillingness to cooperate with his heart, his determination to be a human robot, and refusal to let go of the freezing cold attitude – from pride and dignity - there was nothing to keep him from Duo. It was only himself.
Himself
A few old paper files.
And a thin metal sheet.
He just had to accept that he wanted it.
To Be Continued
A/N: Ah…it's about 11:30 pm now…and I have a math test tomorrow x.X I feel dead. Well, it's another chapter…and we're drawing nearer to Duo's appearance…which might come as a bit of a surprise…^-^ *Smiles evilly, and skips off* R&R please, and thanks to those who've reviewed so far! ^.^