Heero's gaze moved over the crates stacked about them, the lines seeming endless. Despair gripped his heart as he tried to get his mind to accept the enormity of what he was looking at. Somewhere, buried in all of that, was his lover. Possibly. Waste the time looking and maybe find him or try to backtrack Catherine's trail and see if she had dumped him elsewhere? "Wufei, can we use a lifesign detector in here?" he asked, already knowing that answer.
"No. Too much metal. It would just end up reading nothing or being full of static," Wufei whispered back, still in a brand of horrified awe at what he was seeing. "Even right on top of him, it might pass him over or give us so many false readings that we'd be ripping open boxes night and day."
*This isn't happening* Heero's mind told him, the mantra running in a loop through his thoughts. Steps that were deceptively steady carried him forward as he began ripping the lids off of boxes and pushing them aside. A carefully folded and packed tent was shoved away as its container and it clattered to the ground. Next came a nearly full wardrobe of glittering outfits for the highwire artists. Another was full of hammers, mallets, tent stakes... the next sacks of feed for the birds... Behind him came the noise of the others doing the same, a frantic search made as wood splintered under crowbars and lids were tossed to the floor. Duo kept chanting Quatre's name as he jerked aside another box, grasping the one beneath it and pulling it out. Only Trowa hadn't moved.
Hands clasped before him still, Trowa stood silent as his friends went into their frenzy. His thoughts were back with Catherine... falling back in time. His eyes slid closed, recalling the conversation, letting himself slide into a near trancelike state.
"He's calling me."
"No one's calling you."
"I know. He's crying."
"You want to go back? After all the pain you've been though you still want to return to the battle field?"
"It seems, someone once told me that following my emotions."
"No matter what I say you will still go. Baka yo. Because your stubbornness hasn't changed one bit."
"I'll come back alive, neesian."
" Honto ni baka da."
Glints of green shone through Trowa's lashes as his eyes opened slowly. The warehouse about him as well as his fellow pilots had faded from what he saw, merely background noise, there and not there.
*He's calling me*
No, that wasn't precisely right, but he could still hear Quatre's voice. It was someone else he wanted, Heero probably, but he could hear it as clearly as he could hear his own heart thudding away in his chest... the heart that he had given long ago to the slender Arabian.
*He's crying*
Trowa moved forward, hands sliding along the crates without opening any. Even as Duo grabbed his shoulder and tried to shake him, he never focused on the others. If he did, he'd stop hearing that soft voice calling him forward. Wufei captured Duo's hands in his own, pulling him away from the Latino pilot with a soft shake of his head. All of them watched Trowa as he moved wraithlike among the debris, finally stopping before a pile that looked like all the others. He merely stood there for a few moments, unmoving and silent while Catherine's voice spoke to him one last time in a whisper from the past.
*You want to go back? After all the pain you've been though you still want to return to the battle field?*
"Hai..." Trowa murmured under his breath, not even realizing he had. Hands made strong by long battles with Heavyarm's controls shot forward, dragging one of the boxes out, pulling it carefully before cradling it within his arms. Setting it on the ground, he met Heero's eyes and stepped back, letting him be the one to pull the lid away.
The Perfect Soldier barely blinked as he watched it all. He'd known long ago that Trowa and Quatre had some sort of bond to each other. It had taken awhile, but he'd gotten over his jealousy of it, accepted it as part of life. Nodding softly, he jammed the end of his crowbar under the nailed shut top, shoving his weight down as the nails let loose with a shriek of metal on wood. The other four pulled at it as soon as it was lifted enough, ripping it away to clatter hollowly to the floor. Heero swept away the layers of blanket, finally encountering chilled skin beneath it all. Lifting the Arabian into his arms, he let the others help tuck the blanket around them both, stifling his protest as Trowa somehow picked the both of them up and the mad rush for the car and the hospital began.
The greatest moment he could remember was when the aquamarine eyes shaded by golden lashes opened and blinked up at him with a sleepy smile.
"No. Too much metal. It would just end up reading nothing or being full of static," Wufei whispered back, still in a brand of horrified awe at what he was seeing. "Even right on top of him, it might pass him over or give us so many false readings that we'd be ripping open boxes night and day."
*This isn't happening* Heero's mind told him, the mantra running in a loop through his thoughts. Steps that were deceptively steady carried him forward as he began ripping the lids off of boxes and pushing them aside. A carefully folded and packed tent was shoved away as its container and it clattered to the ground. Next came a nearly full wardrobe of glittering outfits for the highwire artists. Another was full of hammers, mallets, tent stakes... the next sacks of feed for the birds... Behind him came the noise of the others doing the same, a frantic search made as wood splintered under crowbars and lids were tossed to the floor. Duo kept chanting Quatre's name as he jerked aside another box, grasping the one beneath it and pulling it out. Only Trowa hadn't moved.
Hands clasped before him still, Trowa stood silent as his friends went into their frenzy. His thoughts were back with Catherine... falling back in time. His eyes slid closed, recalling the conversation, letting himself slide into a near trancelike state.
"He's calling me."
"No one's calling you."
"I know. He's crying."
"You want to go back? After all the pain you've been though you still want to return to the battle field?"
"It seems, someone once told me that following my emotions."
"No matter what I say you will still go. Baka yo. Because your stubbornness hasn't changed one bit."
"I'll come back alive, neesian."
" Honto ni baka da."
Glints of green shone through Trowa's lashes as his eyes opened slowly. The warehouse about him as well as his fellow pilots had faded from what he saw, merely background noise, there and not there.
*He's calling me*
No, that wasn't precisely right, but he could still hear Quatre's voice. It was someone else he wanted, Heero probably, but he could hear it as clearly as he could hear his own heart thudding away in his chest... the heart that he had given long ago to the slender Arabian.
*He's crying*
Trowa moved forward, hands sliding along the crates without opening any. Even as Duo grabbed his shoulder and tried to shake him, he never focused on the others. If he did, he'd stop hearing that soft voice calling him forward. Wufei captured Duo's hands in his own, pulling him away from the Latino pilot with a soft shake of his head. All of them watched Trowa as he moved wraithlike among the debris, finally stopping before a pile that looked like all the others. He merely stood there for a few moments, unmoving and silent while Catherine's voice spoke to him one last time in a whisper from the past.
*You want to go back? After all the pain you've been though you still want to return to the battle field?*
"Hai..." Trowa murmured under his breath, not even realizing he had. Hands made strong by long battles with Heavyarm's controls shot forward, dragging one of the boxes out, pulling it carefully before cradling it within his arms. Setting it on the ground, he met Heero's eyes and stepped back, letting him be the one to pull the lid away.
The Perfect Soldier barely blinked as he watched it all. He'd known long ago that Trowa and Quatre had some sort of bond to each other. It had taken awhile, but he'd gotten over his jealousy of it, accepted it as part of life. Nodding softly, he jammed the end of his crowbar under the nailed shut top, shoving his weight down as the nails let loose with a shriek of metal on wood. The other four pulled at it as soon as it was lifted enough, ripping it away to clatter hollowly to the floor. Heero swept away the layers of blanket, finally encountering chilled skin beneath it all. Lifting the Arabian into his arms, he let the others help tuck the blanket around them both, stifling his protest as Trowa somehow picked the both of them up and the mad rush for the car and the hospital began.
The greatest moment he could remember was when the aquamarine eyes shaded by golden lashes opened and blinked up at him with a sleepy smile.