Standard Disclaimer:  The Gundam boys are mine, and you can't have them.  No, not really.  But if they were mine, these are the kinds of things that would happen to them.

Warnings:  hints of shonen ai

A/N:  I hope the last chapter was comprehendible.  ^_^;;

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 12:

            Quatre experienced all of Duo's emotions:  confusion, fear, horror, sorrow, despair.  The little pilot worriedly studied Duo's face for any sign of consciousness.  He watched as a single tear pooled in the corner of the braided pilot's eye and slowly dripped down the flushed cheek, like a tiny iridescent pearl.  The lean form in his arms shuddered twice.

            Duo blinded his eyes several times as the world began to regain color and consistency.  Quatre watched his eyes flutter and a wave of relief washed over him.

            As everything came into focus, Duo was surprised to find himself looking up into Quatre's gentle face, creased with worry.  His face stretched into a huge grin, clearly displaying joy and relief.

            The blonde looked at the happily smiling Duo on his lap and couldn't help but smile back.  The tear had left a damply shimmering streak everywhere it had kissed Duo's cheek.  He wiped away the moisture with gentle fingers.

            Duo looked up into Quatre's face, and felt the hand on his cheek, relief surging through him, "Quatre, I'm so glad you're still here!"

            "Of course I am.  Where would I have gone?  Besides, I couldn't leave you in that state."

            Duo was mildly confused.  [I just saw Quatre dead, and now he's right next to me.]  This realm of thought was short-lived as concern took its place.  [I need to keep an eye on Quatre.  I have a bad feeling . . .]

            "Duo, are you alright?"

            "Hm?  Oh, yeah.  Sure I am."  He tried to stand to prove his point, but as his knees wobbled and his body began its descent, he came to the amazing realization that, yes, gravity still works, and, no, his muscles didn't. 

            The Arab saw his friend begin to topple and his arms shot out, hooking under Duo's.  Quatre grunted as Duo's full weight jerked him forward slightly in the awkward positioning, but he kept his balance.  He leaned his almost limp friend against the sofa as he repositioned himself to stand in front of Duo.  Before pulling Duo up, piggyback style, the sandrock pilot noticed a dazed look on his comrade's face.  He hoisted Duo up and began trudging to his bedroom.  "Are you feeling well, Duo?"

            "Oh yeah.  I'm fine.  All that running must've made my legs weak," Duo replied absently.

            "Running?"

            "Mmhm . . . now they feel like jelly," Duo mumbled as he nuzzled Quatre's back.

            The blonde decided not to press the issue.  As long as Duo was okay, he didn't need to worry.  He felt his friend's soft cuddles and smiled to himself.  [It's been a very long time since anyone has openly shown me affection like that.  I almost forgot how much I like it.]

            The little Arab carried the slightly large pilot easily and upon reaching Duo's bed, squatted to lay his friend down gently.

            Duo looked up at the angelic face as Quatre tucked him into bed, "Thanks Q . . . Sorry if I . . ."

            "What did you say about apologies?  I'm doing what any friend would do.  Besides, I owe you.  Now, you need rest, so stop worrying, and go to sleep," the blonde lightly brushed Duo's bangs back as he spoke. 

            The motion calmed the deathscythe pilot.  In fact, he almost seemed to lean into the strokes.  The droopy amethyst eyes gleamed beneath his dark lashes in silent admiration of Quatre.

            The braided boy lay in bed, soaking up the attention.  He was starved for affection and needed to be touched.  As Quatre sat next to him on the bed, tenderly running his slender finders through the velvety chocolate locks, Duo was in pure bliss.  He never wanted this moment to end.  He watched Quatre's lips as they parted and met repeatedly, forming breathless words of comfort.  The inaudible words did not matter, but the soft murmurs placated the usually energetic pilot.

            Quatre watched as the lovely indigo eyes drifted closed.  The russet braid sprawled across the pillow and his breathing settled into a steady rise and fall of the chest.

            Satisfied with his friend's complacent state, the saffron haired pilot prepared to exit, throwing one last glance at the figure on the bed, before retreating to his own chamber for the evening.