* * *
The call came in later that afternoon; it was coded a priority 3 Emergency call from the outer colonies of L4. Quatre took it immediately, fear lacing his entire being. He prayed silently that it wasn't Trowa.
But as the screen called up, a very beautiful young woman with very long, very straight blond hair came into view. Her blue eyes smiled warmly at him. "Dorothy. Is everything alright?"
She'd grown up since their first meeting exactly four years ago. "It's our anniversary. I wanted to see how you were doing." Puzzled, Quatre mulled over the unexpected call.
Years ago, after the Marieminna incident, Dorothy had been left confused and frightened. Unbeknownst to any of his fellow pilots-including Trowa- Quatre had arranged for Dorothy to start her life over again. He'd given her a sizable bank account and a new permanent residence on L3. The position in his company had occupied her for about a year before she'd quit and gone to work somewhere else. She'd often send him one letter or another, letting him know she was alright or where she was traveling. But Dorothy had sworn him to secrecy about their friendship, and so he hadn't even written about it in his journals since he'd wanted Trowa to read them. There was something off though; she didn't seem right; her smile was a bit too big, her eyes slightly too wide; something was wrong.
"I-I'd forgotten. But what do you mean exactly, anniversary?"
She laughed just a little too loudly, a little too much like the woman who had waged a war to end all wars. "Well, if you'll recall, it was four years ago today that we both battled each other using the ZERO, do you remember now?"
And he did. Images of himself struggling for control against his own mind flashed before his eyes. He had to latch onto the desktop to ground himself. "I guess you're right, but I wouldn't consider it something to celebrate."
"Oh but, Quatre, you're missing the beauty of it. Have you forgotten the outcome of that fateful meeting? Without it, I would never have truly met you as the wonderful pilot and strategist you are, and we would never have become such enemies during the final battle. Blood for blood. By the way, how is that old wound?"
Subconsciously, Quatre rested his hand lightly over the scar that still remained, reminding him of that last fight for freedom. "It's fine, hardly ever bothers me anymore."
"Good. I wouldn't want that on my soul as well." Her voice was soft, drifting, as if she were saying it to herself and not Quatre.
"Dorothy, are you alright? We haven't talked in a long time, but you don't look well. Is there something I can do to help?" Talking about the ZERO was striking a little too close to his earlier thoughts about Trowa; he needed to get away from that subject.
Her tone was airy and light, not of this world. "No. Quatre, there isn't anything you can do to help. I've made all my own problems, and I'll have to solve them all as well. But maybe," she paused, looking at him closely, "Maybe, you could forgive me. That's why I called; I wanted your forgiveness. Of all the pilots that fought so bravely in the war, you managed to touch my heart. You and you alone were willing to die so that I might live. You never betrayed me, Quatre Winner; you were my friend." Her voice died out, her eyes were cast away from him, looking at the console in front of her.
"Of course we're friends. And whatever it is, I'm positive I'll have no problems offering forgiveness, if that's even necessary at all." He smiled to try and warm her heart, but he could sense a feeling of hopelessness coming from her; how he could feel her from so far away, he didn't know.
He drew in a sharp breath as he saw tears gather in her eyes, only to crawl sadly down her elegant face. She made no move to wipe them away; instead she kept her face tipped down, not daring to look at him.
"Dorothy? It'll be alright, I promise."
"No! Quatre, you mustn't ever promise something you can't keep! It would destroy your impeccable credibility." She smiled at him, but there was no mirth or joy in it-only pain and emptiness.
"Alright, then I'll promise to hear you out and then judge you; is that better?"
She sighed-a lost sound-and softly shook her head. "You can't do that; only God can pass judgment; only God can save a soul as lost as mine. But you've always tried anyway, always tried to be what so many others needed you to be; what I needed you to be. But has it been worth it, Quatre? All those people you thought you could trust, all those wonderful ideals you swore by; how have they fared since the end of the war? Have they met all of your expectations?"
Did she know? Could she read his mind? His thoughts raced with questions and concerns. This wasn't at all like Dorothy-nothing at all. She'd been so excited the last time he'd spoken to her, hadn't she been? Could he really be sure? He'd been worried about his sisters at the time. Could he have missed her sadness? Then the words she now spoke-so close to the truth.
"I don't think anyone can completely live up to another's expectations all the time. But there are some things-"
"But are they enough? Is this new world filled with the promises and hopes you sacrificed for it to have? Are the people that you made those sacrifices for thankful; were they worth it, Quatre? Were they worth the pain, suffering, rage, and death? Was any of it worth it?"
"I-I don't know, but I have to believe that they were. I have to."
"You don't sound sure." And he wasn't. He wasn't sure about anything.
"Dorothy, tell me what's wrong, and I'll help you. You can trust me."
She let out a loud laugh, so filled with pain. "Maybe that's so, but you're a fool to allow me such faith. If you had simply allowed for me to trust you, that would have been one thing, but my dear Quatre, you allowed yourself to trust me back, didn't you? Even now, you put your faith in me, but you shouldn't. Because just like everyone else, I've betrayed you as well."
His heart stopped, and in the silence that dragged on between them, flashes of his father's cruel beatings, his sisters' hateful words, Trowa only willing to sacrificing their love and nothing more, these images fell across his mind striking at him, weakening him further. He watched the neutral expression on Dorothy's face remain, never changing. He tried to answer. "What do you mean?" It sounded weak, just like he was.
But Dorothy only seemed to grow sadder at his simple words. "I've betrayed you, Quatre. I'm sorry now that I did it, but I did anyway. I know you'll hate me, and that brings me such sadness, to know that we were once friends under false pretences. You see, I pretended to need you only to get what I wanted, only to take advantage of your kindness, only to betray you. And now you see why you cannot promise to forgive me; you cannot forgive me for such a betrayal. But I had to try, had to ask."
He lifted a hand to his heart as a wave of agony washed over him, such pain and thoughts of death, such hopelessness. On the vid, he watched the young woman, so much like himself, pick something up off the console she was looking at, still keeping it out of view.
"I want you to know that I regret it, but I don't think in the end that will matter much. What I've done to you, to the world, has sealed my fate in Hell. I worked for them because I had no where else to go, and I allowed those beautiful children to be completely destroyed while I pretended to care for them. You'll never find it in your heart to forgive me for that; not even the kind, caring and loving Quatre Rababera Winner has that kind of compassion. But I wanted you to know that I was sorry, and that I'll tell you what I can. Quatre." She called to him, making him look up at her, grabbing his attention. "They're in L3, Quatre. They're waiting for you, only you can set them free."
And then she was lifting an object into the air, and it took a moment for him to recognize the pistol for what it was; the ivory handle setting off the gold detail of the inlay. Slowly she brought it to her temple and cocked the hammer.
"NO! Dorothy, don't!!!"
"I'm sorry, Quatre. I tried so hard to be good, to find meaning without war, but all I did was make it worse, make the world a more terrible place. They are weapons, Quatre, created for no other purpose than to kill and destroy, to start another war-a war to finally end all wars. I was a part of that, and I can't live that life any longer." She closed her eyes.
"NO DOROTHY LISTEN! Listen to me! We'll talk, you and I! We'll meet somewhere, have some coffee and just talk! It can't be that bad-it can't be worth this! Your life has meaning; it has meaning! Please don't do this!"
Her voice was distant as she answered, "Poor Quatre, always trying to see the best in people, he never sees the evil in them until it's too late. Don't worry, Quatre, eventually, you'll see that the world is entirely too evil to save, that there isn't any point left in trying. I did."
"DOROTHY, PLEASE DON-"
The report echoed across the millions of miles of space that separated them. Blood splattered the screen and caused the image of her falling body to be obscured in the most grotesque way. He heard her head hit the console before the screen when blank.
A panic like none other rose up in his chest. He called out her name, not knowing why, as he scrambled for the console and com-unit. With sheer desperation he connected to the only person that could help him, the only one that could save him from the sight he had just witnessed; he called Trowa.
Great sobs escaped him as he gasped for air to continue the struggle of life. But as the minutes dragged on, and there was no answer a cold and deathly silence replaced his earlier sounds. No answer. Trowa wasn't going to answer. His friend had died, had told him that life was useless, that she had betrayed him-yet one more person-and then she had taken a gun to her beautiful face and marred that beauty for all time. And Trowa wouldn't answer his call.
There was no more doubt in his mind, no more curious wonder; there was nothing. What was the point? Dorothy had died letting him know that there was nothing, that everything he'd been fighting for had been a lie. His sisters' care, the guilt over the ZERO, Trowa's love; none of it mattered, none of it was worth the price. He struggled with himself, trying against hope to find some reason why life was good, why it wasn't clouded by betrayal, hatred, and dishonor. But there was nothing. Trowa had only been willing to sacrifice their love, nothing more, nothing real, nothing that would have truly destroyed Trowa in the end.
But wasn't that the point all along?
Wasn't that what he'd wanted, deep in the darkness of his mind; hadn't he wanted Trowa to fail?
Yes, to fail and to set him free.
What was left?
Nothing.
Struggling to his feet, Quatre moved to exit the main room. Outside, he passed countless people but never saw a single one. What did they matter? They'd all betray him in the end anyway. There was only one safe way, only one way out.
The link was silent as he moved down the hallway to his quarters. Trowa wasn't there; Trowa hadn't ever really been there. At the door to his rooms he punched in the entrance code and stepped inside.
His sister Liteea met him at the door.
"You weak, pathetic, fucking, bastard!"
What was left?
Nothing.
* * *
Trowa was tired. A solar flair had blocked communication almost from the time he'd disconnected from Quatre. He hadn't been able to speak with his lover, or anyone else, in almost thirty-two hours. All he wanted to do was hold Quatre tightly, take a nap, and head over to the Crystal Estate.
Duo and Heero laughed beside him at some joke. Wufei waited impatiently for the doors to open so he could get back to Sally; it seems she'd promised him a special surprise when he returned, and he wasn't about to wait any longer than he had to. The hangar had been completely empty, which was understandable, since with communications down, no one knew they were coming in with their cloaking devices on.
"So Trowa, you and Quatre gonna take off right away?" Duo was wrapped around Heero, his hand resting suggestively on the other man's ass.
"I think I'll beg for a nap first, and then yes, I think we'll be leaving."
"Man, that's so nice. Heero, how come you never buy me anything nice like an estate?"
"Because my credit card is made from tinfoil." They laughed heartily as they stepped out of the elevator. But their laughter died on their lips as they took in the haggard expression on Dr. Corinne Namon's face.
"Corinne?"
"He's gone."
Her voice was defeated, completely devoid of all emotion except sadness and regret.
Trowa wasn't in the mood to analyze. "What do you mean gone!?"
She flinched under his tone and stare. "He received an emergency 3 com call from a friend of his, Dorothy Catelonia. The message was scrambled but we gleaned that she implied to Quatre that she had somehow betrayed him. Then she shot herself in the head, while Quatre watched and tried to stop her. From there, we know he went back to his quarters. We also know from the guard reports that his sister Liteea was waiting for him when he got there. Approximately three hours later, she left, and so did Quatre. That was over twenty-four hours ago; we've had dozens of soldiers sweeping the towns and surrounding areas but we haven't been able to find him. He took his car but ripped out the tracking beacon before he left. He ripped it out with his bare hands.there was still blood on the metal when we found it."
They were silent; what could be said? Quatre had run, run away, and they didn't know where he was. 879 Trillion credits at his disposal, he could be anywhere in the known universe by now.
"Why? Why didn't he wait for me?"
"Because he didn't think you were coming back."
In a flash he was staring deathly at her. "What do you mean? I told him I was coming back."
"He tried to call you on the com after his friend committed suicide, but he couldn't reach you. We know it was because of the solar flair, but I doubt Quatre thought that far ahead. He was very agitated in the session yesterday, but I thought he would be fine until you arrived; but with all that happened, I think-his mind just shut down."
"If you knew he was upset, why did you leave him alone!?!" He was yelling, something he rarely ever did. He saw Corinne's eyes grow huge, and she took an involuntary step back, away from him.
Heero stopped him from following. "Trowa! Stop! It isn't helping. We need to find Quatre now, before he has a chance to really disappear on us. We have to think now."
Think!? How could he think? His lover had been through so much, but he'd never run, never fled. Quatre had always trusted that he'd find a way to reach him, but this, this was so.he just didn't know.
Heero recognized the indecision in his vacant eyes; he took charge.
"Duo, get to the main room and bring up a map of the surrounding area. Mark off a section that Quatre could have gotten to in a car only in twenty- four hours. For now we'll have to assume that he hasn't left the land. Then call every hotel in the marked off area, and use every alias that Quatre's ever used. If he's in a hotel, find him. Wufei, check with the current efforts and find out what's been going on. You'll relay information back to the rest of us. Make sure someone's checking the shuttle departures and for God's sake, find that blasted bitch of a sister."
Heero took Trowa firmly by the shoulders and shook him. "Trowa, you and I will start in town. We'll coordinate the efforts out there and do some searching of our own." Trowa felt himself shaken again, and this time he looked into solid blue eyes. "We are going to find him, Trowa. None of us will stop until we bring him home."
But Trowa couldn't say anything. Quatre had left him, had disappeared with no clear way to find him. He'd failed, and now Quatre would suffer for it.
"Trowa!" he looked up at Heero. "Let's go! Now!"
The four pilots split up to find Quatre.
The call came in later that afternoon; it was coded a priority 3 Emergency call from the outer colonies of L4. Quatre took it immediately, fear lacing his entire being. He prayed silently that it wasn't Trowa.
But as the screen called up, a very beautiful young woman with very long, very straight blond hair came into view. Her blue eyes smiled warmly at him. "Dorothy. Is everything alright?"
She'd grown up since their first meeting exactly four years ago. "It's our anniversary. I wanted to see how you were doing." Puzzled, Quatre mulled over the unexpected call.
Years ago, after the Marieminna incident, Dorothy had been left confused and frightened. Unbeknownst to any of his fellow pilots-including Trowa- Quatre had arranged for Dorothy to start her life over again. He'd given her a sizable bank account and a new permanent residence on L3. The position in his company had occupied her for about a year before she'd quit and gone to work somewhere else. She'd often send him one letter or another, letting him know she was alright or where she was traveling. But Dorothy had sworn him to secrecy about their friendship, and so he hadn't even written about it in his journals since he'd wanted Trowa to read them. There was something off though; she didn't seem right; her smile was a bit too big, her eyes slightly too wide; something was wrong.
"I-I'd forgotten. But what do you mean exactly, anniversary?"
She laughed just a little too loudly, a little too much like the woman who had waged a war to end all wars. "Well, if you'll recall, it was four years ago today that we both battled each other using the ZERO, do you remember now?"
And he did. Images of himself struggling for control against his own mind flashed before his eyes. He had to latch onto the desktop to ground himself. "I guess you're right, but I wouldn't consider it something to celebrate."
"Oh but, Quatre, you're missing the beauty of it. Have you forgotten the outcome of that fateful meeting? Without it, I would never have truly met you as the wonderful pilot and strategist you are, and we would never have become such enemies during the final battle. Blood for blood. By the way, how is that old wound?"
Subconsciously, Quatre rested his hand lightly over the scar that still remained, reminding him of that last fight for freedom. "It's fine, hardly ever bothers me anymore."
"Good. I wouldn't want that on my soul as well." Her voice was soft, drifting, as if she were saying it to herself and not Quatre.
"Dorothy, are you alright? We haven't talked in a long time, but you don't look well. Is there something I can do to help?" Talking about the ZERO was striking a little too close to his earlier thoughts about Trowa; he needed to get away from that subject.
Her tone was airy and light, not of this world. "No. Quatre, there isn't anything you can do to help. I've made all my own problems, and I'll have to solve them all as well. But maybe," she paused, looking at him closely, "Maybe, you could forgive me. That's why I called; I wanted your forgiveness. Of all the pilots that fought so bravely in the war, you managed to touch my heart. You and you alone were willing to die so that I might live. You never betrayed me, Quatre Winner; you were my friend." Her voice died out, her eyes were cast away from him, looking at the console in front of her.
"Of course we're friends. And whatever it is, I'm positive I'll have no problems offering forgiveness, if that's even necessary at all." He smiled to try and warm her heart, but he could sense a feeling of hopelessness coming from her; how he could feel her from so far away, he didn't know.
He drew in a sharp breath as he saw tears gather in her eyes, only to crawl sadly down her elegant face. She made no move to wipe them away; instead she kept her face tipped down, not daring to look at him.
"Dorothy? It'll be alright, I promise."
"No! Quatre, you mustn't ever promise something you can't keep! It would destroy your impeccable credibility." She smiled at him, but there was no mirth or joy in it-only pain and emptiness.
"Alright, then I'll promise to hear you out and then judge you; is that better?"
She sighed-a lost sound-and softly shook her head. "You can't do that; only God can pass judgment; only God can save a soul as lost as mine. But you've always tried anyway, always tried to be what so many others needed you to be; what I needed you to be. But has it been worth it, Quatre? All those people you thought you could trust, all those wonderful ideals you swore by; how have they fared since the end of the war? Have they met all of your expectations?"
Did she know? Could she read his mind? His thoughts raced with questions and concerns. This wasn't at all like Dorothy-nothing at all. She'd been so excited the last time he'd spoken to her, hadn't she been? Could he really be sure? He'd been worried about his sisters at the time. Could he have missed her sadness? Then the words she now spoke-so close to the truth.
"I don't think anyone can completely live up to another's expectations all the time. But there are some things-"
"But are they enough? Is this new world filled with the promises and hopes you sacrificed for it to have? Are the people that you made those sacrifices for thankful; were they worth it, Quatre? Were they worth the pain, suffering, rage, and death? Was any of it worth it?"
"I-I don't know, but I have to believe that they were. I have to."
"You don't sound sure." And he wasn't. He wasn't sure about anything.
"Dorothy, tell me what's wrong, and I'll help you. You can trust me."
She let out a loud laugh, so filled with pain. "Maybe that's so, but you're a fool to allow me such faith. If you had simply allowed for me to trust you, that would have been one thing, but my dear Quatre, you allowed yourself to trust me back, didn't you? Even now, you put your faith in me, but you shouldn't. Because just like everyone else, I've betrayed you as well."
His heart stopped, and in the silence that dragged on between them, flashes of his father's cruel beatings, his sisters' hateful words, Trowa only willing to sacrificing their love and nothing more, these images fell across his mind striking at him, weakening him further. He watched the neutral expression on Dorothy's face remain, never changing. He tried to answer. "What do you mean?" It sounded weak, just like he was.
But Dorothy only seemed to grow sadder at his simple words. "I've betrayed you, Quatre. I'm sorry now that I did it, but I did anyway. I know you'll hate me, and that brings me such sadness, to know that we were once friends under false pretences. You see, I pretended to need you only to get what I wanted, only to take advantage of your kindness, only to betray you. And now you see why you cannot promise to forgive me; you cannot forgive me for such a betrayal. But I had to try, had to ask."
He lifted a hand to his heart as a wave of agony washed over him, such pain and thoughts of death, such hopelessness. On the vid, he watched the young woman, so much like himself, pick something up off the console she was looking at, still keeping it out of view.
"I want you to know that I regret it, but I don't think in the end that will matter much. What I've done to you, to the world, has sealed my fate in Hell. I worked for them because I had no where else to go, and I allowed those beautiful children to be completely destroyed while I pretended to care for them. You'll never find it in your heart to forgive me for that; not even the kind, caring and loving Quatre Rababera Winner has that kind of compassion. But I wanted you to know that I was sorry, and that I'll tell you what I can. Quatre." She called to him, making him look up at her, grabbing his attention. "They're in L3, Quatre. They're waiting for you, only you can set them free."
And then she was lifting an object into the air, and it took a moment for him to recognize the pistol for what it was; the ivory handle setting off the gold detail of the inlay. Slowly she brought it to her temple and cocked the hammer.
"NO! Dorothy, don't!!!"
"I'm sorry, Quatre. I tried so hard to be good, to find meaning without war, but all I did was make it worse, make the world a more terrible place. They are weapons, Quatre, created for no other purpose than to kill and destroy, to start another war-a war to finally end all wars. I was a part of that, and I can't live that life any longer." She closed her eyes.
"NO DOROTHY LISTEN! Listen to me! We'll talk, you and I! We'll meet somewhere, have some coffee and just talk! It can't be that bad-it can't be worth this! Your life has meaning; it has meaning! Please don't do this!"
Her voice was distant as she answered, "Poor Quatre, always trying to see the best in people, he never sees the evil in them until it's too late. Don't worry, Quatre, eventually, you'll see that the world is entirely too evil to save, that there isn't any point left in trying. I did."
"DOROTHY, PLEASE DON-"
The report echoed across the millions of miles of space that separated them. Blood splattered the screen and caused the image of her falling body to be obscured in the most grotesque way. He heard her head hit the console before the screen when blank.
A panic like none other rose up in his chest. He called out her name, not knowing why, as he scrambled for the console and com-unit. With sheer desperation he connected to the only person that could help him, the only one that could save him from the sight he had just witnessed; he called Trowa.
Great sobs escaped him as he gasped for air to continue the struggle of life. But as the minutes dragged on, and there was no answer a cold and deathly silence replaced his earlier sounds. No answer. Trowa wasn't going to answer. His friend had died, had told him that life was useless, that she had betrayed him-yet one more person-and then she had taken a gun to her beautiful face and marred that beauty for all time. And Trowa wouldn't answer his call.
There was no more doubt in his mind, no more curious wonder; there was nothing. What was the point? Dorothy had died letting him know that there was nothing, that everything he'd been fighting for had been a lie. His sisters' care, the guilt over the ZERO, Trowa's love; none of it mattered, none of it was worth the price. He struggled with himself, trying against hope to find some reason why life was good, why it wasn't clouded by betrayal, hatred, and dishonor. But there was nothing. Trowa had only been willing to sacrifice their love, nothing more, nothing real, nothing that would have truly destroyed Trowa in the end.
But wasn't that the point all along?
Wasn't that what he'd wanted, deep in the darkness of his mind; hadn't he wanted Trowa to fail?
Yes, to fail and to set him free.
What was left?
Nothing.
Struggling to his feet, Quatre moved to exit the main room. Outside, he passed countless people but never saw a single one. What did they matter? They'd all betray him in the end anyway. There was only one safe way, only one way out.
The link was silent as he moved down the hallway to his quarters. Trowa wasn't there; Trowa hadn't ever really been there. At the door to his rooms he punched in the entrance code and stepped inside.
His sister Liteea met him at the door.
"You weak, pathetic, fucking, bastard!"
What was left?
Nothing.
* * *
Trowa was tired. A solar flair had blocked communication almost from the time he'd disconnected from Quatre. He hadn't been able to speak with his lover, or anyone else, in almost thirty-two hours. All he wanted to do was hold Quatre tightly, take a nap, and head over to the Crystal Estate.
Duo and Heero laughed beside him at some joke. Wufei waited impatiently for the doors to open so he could get back to Sally; it seems she'd promised him a special surprise when he returned, and he wasn't about to wait any longer than he had to. The hangar had been completely empty, which was understandable, since with communications down, no one knew they were coming in with their cloaking devices on.
"So Trowa, you and Quatre gonna take off right away?" Duo was wrapped around Heero, his hand resting suggestively on the other man's ass.
"I think I'll beg for a nap first, and then yes, I think we'll be leaving."
"Man, that's so nice. Heero, how come you never buy me anything nice like an estate?"
"Because my credit card is made from tinfoil." They laughed heartily as they stepped out of the elevator. But their laughter died on their lips as they took in the haggard expression on Dr. Corinne Namon's face.
"Corinne?"
"He's gone."
Her voice was defeated, completely devoid of all emotion except sadness and regret.
Trowa wasn't in the mood to analyze. "What do you mean gone!?"
She flinched under his tone and stare. "He received an emergency 3 com call from a friend of his, Dorothy Catelonia. The message was scrambled but we gleaned that she implied to Quatre that she had somehow betrayed him. Then she shot herself in the head, while Quatre watched and tried to stop her. From there, we know he went back to his quarters. We also know from the guard reports that his sister Liteea was waiting for him when he got there. Approximately three hours later, she left, and so did Quatre. That was over twenty-four hours ago; we've had dozens of soldiers sweeping the towns and surrounding areas but we haven't been able to find him. He took his car but ripped out the tracking beacon before he left. He ripped it out with his bare hands.there was still blood on the metal when we found it."
They were silent; what could be said? Quatre had run, run away, and they didn't know where he was. 879 Trillion credits at his disposal, he could be anywhere in the known universe by now.
"Why? Why didn't he wait for me?"
"Because he didn't think you were coming back."
In a flash he was staring deathly at her. "What do you mean? I told him I was coming back."
"He tried to call you on the com after his friend committed suicide, but he couldn't reach you. We know it was because of the solar flair, but I doubt Quatre thought that far ahead. He was very agitated in the session yesterday, but I thought he would be fine until you arrived; but with all that happened, I think-his mind just shut down."
"If you knew he was upset, why did you leave him alone!?!" He was yelling, something he rarely ever did. He saw Corinne's eyes grow huge, and she took an involuntary step back, away from him.
Heero stopped him from following. "Trowa! Stop! It isn't helping. We need to find Quatre now, before he has a chance to really disappear on us. We have to think now."
Think!? How could he think? His lover had been through so much, but he'd never run, never fled. Quatre had always trusted that he'd find a way to reach him, but this, this was so.he just didn't know.
Heero recognized the indecision in his vacant eyes; he took charge.
"Duo, get to the main room and bring up a map of the surrounding area. Mark off a section that Quatre could have gotten to in a car only in twenty- four hours. For now we'll have to assume that he hasn't left the land. Then call every hotel in the marked off area, and use every alias that Quatre's ever used. If he's in a hotel, find him. Wufei, check with the current efforts and find out what's been going on. You'll relay information back to the rest of us. Make sure someone's checking the shuttle departures and for God's sake, find that blasted bitch of a sister."
Heero took Trowa firmly by the shoulders and shook him. "Trowa, you and I will start in town. We'll coordinate the efforts out there and do some searching of our own." Trowa felt himself shaken again, and this time he looked into solid blue eyes. "We are going to find him, Trowa. None of us will stop until we bring him home."
But Trowa couldn't say anything. Quatre had left him, had disappeared with no clear way to find him. He'd failed, and now Quatre would suffer for it.
"Trowa!" he looked up at Heero. "Let's go! Now!"
The four pilots split up to find Quatre.