Disclaimer: Still don't own Gundam Wing. No money made here, and I really mean it.
Warnings: Some swearing, violence, eventual yaoi in the 1X4 form.
Chapter 5It was dark and quiet and peaceful where Quatre was, but it didn't last, something kept intruding, the realization that somebody needed him. He slowly worked his way back to reality.
Someone was crying.
Quatre kept still, trying to breath evenly through the sickening pain that suddenly throbbed through his head. He cautiously cracked his eyes open. It took a minute for his vision to function properly, and when it did he almost wished that he could return to the blessed ignorance of unconsciousness.
He was in a tiny room constructed almost entirely out of concrete. The only thing that broke the monotony of the gray was a single bluish, metal door, with no handle on the inside. The blond was sitting on a chair also made of metal. His ankles were tied to its legs and his forearms were securely chained behind his back. It reminded Quatre quite forcefully of the cells that Oz and the Romafeller Foundation had treated him to. The crying that had led him back from insensibility was coming from his left hand side. Gingerly, he moved his head to look.
Next to him was another boy. It took him a moment to recognize him because his glasses were gone and his face was red and puffy from crying, but it was Eric.
Quatre began to open his mouth to speak, but grimaced suddenly as pain radiated from his jaw at the movement. Great, he thought, now there isn't a single spot on my head that doesn't ache. He gingerly tried again, and this time was successful. "Eric," he croaked. The other boy didn't hear him through his misery, so he tried again, louder but still hoarse. "Eric!"
The boy started, and raised his blotchy face. "Q-Quatre? You're . . . you're alive? Oh god, I thought they killed you!" He sobbed out.
The blonde looked his hysterical friend over. Eric had also been placed on a chair, but Red Thorn had only bothered to tie his hands behind him and to the seat back. Obviously they had realized Quatre was the greater threat. If they had tied him like Eric he could have already worked his way free.
"Eric, listen to me, you need to calm down or you're going to hyperventilate," Quatre told the distraught boy.
His classmate seemed to take his words to heart. The next several minutes were agonizing to watch as Eric tried to stop his tears and slow his breathing. The Arabian tried to help as much as possible by keeping up a steady litany of hoarse but soothing words. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the other boy was down to only the occasional hiccupy sob.
"Eric, how did we get here?"
"I-I don't know," (hiccup), "after they, they hurt you, that woman, she shook a gun in my face" (hiccup) "and blindfolded me and took us here."
Quatre grimaced. Wonderful, I suppose it would have been too much to hope for that we'd have any clues to our where a bouts, Red Thorn isn't completely stupid, which is a pity.
The two boys sat in silence for several minutes. Finally Eric, hiccups now under control, began to speak. "Quatre, who are these people, what do they want from us? You . . . you knew them didn't you? I mean back at the restaurant, you saw them and tried to get us away . . . "
The blonde stared at his cellmate. There's no reason to lie to him now, it's my fault he's in this mess. But wait, is it? They were after us both back there at the restaurant, weren't they? Quatre suddenly had another thought. "Eric, who are you're parents?"
The other boy glared at Quatre with a surprising amount of heat. "You're just trying to avoid telling me anything! Don't change the subject," Eric's voice was beginning to rise hysterically again, I have a right to know why I was shot at, kidnapped, and thrown into a cell!"
Quatre interrupted before he could work himself into a fit. "It's not an idle question Eric! I'm not trying to change the subject. This could help me figure out exactly why you're here!"
They stared at each other. "I'm sorry," Eric said. "this is just really scary, you know?" He took a deep breath. "My mom died when I was five, my dad's been sending me to private boarding schools most of my life, so I don't know him real well. His name is Nathan Davis." He said his father's name like it should mean something to Quatre, and it did. Suddenly everything clicked.
"You're father is a Senator, isn't he?" The blonde barely waited for Eric to nod before continuing. "That's why the bad guys were after you, they're going to use you to get your father to do what they want." Nathan Davis was the Senator whose name Quatre hadn't been able to recall, the one who had been with Everett Orth and Relena Dorlian at the speeches. Which meant he was a supporter of leaving power in the hands of unregulated companies. "The people who kidnapped us, they're an anti-corporation group known as Red Thorn. They've been responsible for two incidents of terrorism at a major company in the last couple of days alone. I know this because I work for the Preventers," this was probably technically true because by now Une should have cleared him for duty, "and I've been working on this case."
"So that's why they abducted you, because you were getting to close on a case?"
"Er, no, I don't think they know that I work for the Preventers. Eric, my full name is Quatre Raberba Winner. I'm the son of the man who started Winner Enterprises, I think they want me for the same reason they want you."
The other boy stared at the Arabian in astonishment. "You're the missing heir to the Winner fortune?! The one that all those news people have been wondering about on television!"
Quatre shrugged ruefully. "Yes, unfortunately that's me."
"A Preventer, a missing heir to a fortune . . . you're just full of surprises aren't you?"
Quatre just hoped he wouldn't have to share any more 'surprises.'
The loud screech of metal forestalled anything else they might have said to one another. The door to their cell swung open, and in walked three members of Red Thorn. He only recognized one from the restaurant, the man that he had been fighting with right before being knocked out. The other two he identified from the data files. The first was the group's newest member, the sandy-haired Todd Byers. He was considered to be the weak link, to soft to really be suited for the work of a terrorist. The second was a bit more worrisome. Rai Setsuna, the original leader of the group. By all accounts he was a fanatical badass, no one at the Preventers had known how Heero had overthrown him.
Rai ignored Eric and moved so that he stood looming over the blonde. "Quatre Winner," he murmured, dark eyes cold and gleaming. "The little prince, heir to the company your father built on his bottomless greed."
The boy stiffened, overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu as he remembered the accusations made before his father's death. "My father never hesitated to share what he made, if not for him L4 wouldn't be what it is today."
Quatre's head snapped back from the impact of the dark eyed man's slap.
Setsuna knelt down so that he was eye level to Quatre's pain filled gaze. "Little princeling, you caused my men a great deal of trouble. I'm curious, how did you spot them?"
"It wasn't hard," he began, matching the arrogance in the other's tone, "their coats flapped around like they were in a strong wind. I saw the guns."
Setsuna turned and glared at his men. "Careless," he hissed. He turned back to Quatre and stared at him, his expression oddly bemused. The man lifted his hand and stroked the bruise just beginning to purple on the side of the small blonde's jaw. "You're a difficult young man to find, my little prince," Rai purred. "But not difficult enough, for your sake. You should have used a different name for your school."
"I wasn't trying to hide."
"Oh, but you were." The fanatical gleam returned to his dark eyes. "All those like you hide. You hide behind your money, and your power. Behind your sophisticated, responsible, corporate facade. You shroud yourself in a cloak of respectability, and only I see what lies inside, only I see the rottenness that consumes so many in the name of profit."
Quatre stared at him. He really was a fanatic, and like most fanatics he was clearly insane enough to hear only what he wanted and ignore the rest. It would be pointless to try and reason with him. Quatre risked glancing away from the madman to look at the other terrorists. They both looked uneasy with their former leader's ravings.
Setsuna finally snapped out of his rant, and strode out of the cell, but not without throwing orders behind him. "Byers, watch them. Wouldn't do for anything to happen to them until they've served their purpose, now would it?" He looked directly at Quatre when he said this. Clearly, something would be 'happening' to him soon, and it would be by the dark-eyed man's own hand.
The other terrorist lingered behind. "Keep an eye on that one," he said, pointing at the bound blonde. "He's dangerous."
"This kid is dangerous?" Byers asked in disbelief. He looked Quatre over while the blonde did his best to look harmless, which really wasn't a difficult task under the circumstances.
"He may not look like much but don't be fooled." He hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave the other on guard duty alone.
"Go, I think I can handle two schoolboys by myself, I do have a gun." He waved it around carelessly to emphasize his point. His actions didn't seem to reassure the other man, but finally, he reluctantly left anyway.
Their guard moved himself to the doorway. Quatre turned to look into Eric's frightened eyes. "What's going to happen to us?" Eric whispered. "That man is off his rocker."
"Everything will be alright," the ex-pilot whispered back. The two boys sat in silence then, each aware of their unwanted audience who would occasionally glance at them. Quatre began to sag deliberately on his chair, head drooping forward to rest on his chest. His eyelids fluttered closed, pale lashes resting on his cheeks. His breathing began to change, becoming stilted and labored, every breath of air being worked for. The glances their guard sent him became laced with concern.
"Quatre, are you okay?" Eric asked, worried.
The blonde stirred, lifting his head weakly to squint blurrily at his friend. "Yeah, I'm just tired," he murmured. He hated to deceive the other boy and cause him concern, but if he acted in any way to reassure him Byers would see it. He needed to appear weak and harmless and injured to garner sympathy from the terrorist. This was the perfect opportunity to exploit the weak link.
He continued like this for almost ten minutes. Finally, he shifted uncomfortably on the chair and looked up at the guard. "Excuse me," Quatre made his voice a thin thread of sound. "I need to go to the bathroom."
Byers looked at the fragile and bruised blonde, and shook his head. "I don't think I'm allowed to bring you to one."
Quatre looked up at him with desperate eyes, the bruises bringing out their blue. "Please."
It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, but it worked. Todd Byers got up from his spot from the door and undid the ties at the ex-pilots legs. But before completely freeing him he snapped a pair of handcuffs around the thin wrists. Then the young terrorist stepped out of Quatre's reach. He held his gun pointed at the blonde, and made no move to help the boy as he struggled laboriously to his feet. He's not completely stupid, but hopefully still dumb enough for my purposes, Quatre thought.
He wobbled to the door in front of Byers, still exaggerating his hurts. To his frustration the man continued to keep a cautious distance between them. Eric watched them step through the doorway with concerned eyes.
The hallway outside the cell was just as gray and drab as the room they had left behind. Somebody had either gotten a good deal on concrete, or more likely, hadn't been overly concerned with the comforts of the 'guests' who would be housed on this floor. They traveled through the hallway to an elevator, which they rode up a floor. Once there it was a right and then a left to get to the windowless little bathroom that he was to use. Byers didn't close the door all the way as Quatre took care of business. The blonde only stayed in there for two minutes, not long enough for the terrorist to began to feel any alarm. When Quatre came out the man was beginning to lose some of his caution, he wasn't keeping quite as much distance between them. After all, so far the boy had been a model prisoner.
The blonde walked several steps away from the bathroom, and then suddenly stumbled over his own feet. Byers automatically reached out to keep him from going down.
The ex-pilot straightened, abruptly jabbing Byers in the stomach with a well-placed elbow. As the breathe left his body in a pained gasp, Quatre whirled and kicked the gun out of his hand, foot continuing to travel in an upwards arc to bean him in the head.
The terrorist fell to the ground, unconscious.
Quatre squatted on his heels, facing away from the senseless man as he felt around in his clothes with his bound hands. He almost crowed in triumph as he pulled the handcuff keys out of a shirt pocket.
Mere seconds later the handcuffs were off. The blonde dropped both keys and cuffs on Byers chest. "I'm sorry I had to do this," Quatre murmured to him, "you're a kind man." He snagged the gun off the floor and began to move down the hallway, intending to go back to the cell for Eric.
He had nearly made it back to the elevator when he heard a shout. "Hey you, stop right there!" A man had turned the corner from the other end of the hallway. Quatre lifted his gun to fire and the man swore and dove back around the corner before he had a chance to squeeze off a round.
An alarm began to blare, gray walls painted red by the strobe light.
Quatre ducked through the nearest doorway as bullets whistled through the air. The terrorist panicked and used up his entire cartridge on the wall. The blonde waited until he heard the clip click empty, then he moved back into the hallway, sighted, and fired, hitting the man in the leg.
He hurried to the elevator and pushed the button, then cursed as he realized it wasn't working. Somebody had shut off the power to it. He tried to ignore the uneasy feeling growing within his chest. He headed past the injured terrorist to look for an alternate route.
He moved quickly through the halls, the alarm adding urgency to his steps, only slowing and proceeding with caution when he came to a corner. He noticed a door ahead marked fire exit. That will have stairs leading down, and I don't need to worry about setting off another alarm. He hurried toward it, passing a slightly ajar doorway as he did so. He only noticed it subconsciously, so intent was he on getting to the stairs.
His distraction proved to be an important mistake.
Somebody slammed into him from behind, knocking his gun out of his hand and sending it skidding across the hard floor to land against the stairwell door.
Quatre quickly rolled away, just managing to get to his feet before his assailant was on him again. He kicked back, hoping to break a kneecap and disable his opponent, but the blow was blocked. This person moved with incredible speed. Quatre suddenly found himself slammed against the wall, strong arms restraining his upper body in an unbreakable hold. Even though he was trapped between two unmovable objects, the blond continued to struggle uselessly. He felt a gun poke him beneath his chin.
"Stop moving," a masculine voice said into his ear.
Quatre stilled. He knew that voice.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the arm moved away from his body. The gun trailed around his neck from the front to the back, and the feverishly warm body pressing into him stepped away.
Quatre turned around to face his assailant, careful to make no sudden moves. The first thing he saw was the gun, the barrel centimeters away from his face. He then focused his eyes to see the hand holding it, and then they traveled up the wrist, along the arm, over the shoulder, and past the neck to finally settle on the person's face.
Dark blue eyes.
Perpetually messy brown hair.
Heero Yuy.
Notes: I'm sorry that this chapter took me so much longer to complete than the others, but I had to fulfill my social obligations. Stupid Real Life. I'm also hoping that it sounds okay, because I wrote it while floating in a haze of allergy medication, the kind that makes me really drowsy. Stupid seasonal allergies.
Once again this chapter didn't go where I expected it too. I have no idea where Rai Setsuna came from, but I sure don't like him. First Orth, now this guy. I really don't know why I keep putting complete bastards in my story. Also, I realize I'm being mean with the cliff-hangers, but it just begged to be ended here. It least Heero finally made an appearance.
Thanks once again to all my reviewers. You guys are great! And no Silver Shinigami, you're not sheltered. There just isn't a lot of Quatre-action on ff.net. . . sigh.
Next chapter: Heero finally answers some questions.