* * *
Quatre had decided early on not to think about what had happened between himself and Trowa. Everything inside of him screamed that this was wrong, that he and Trowa couldn't possibly continue like they were; but Trowa needed to be in control-couldn't stand it any other way-and Quatre loved him enough to comply with his wishes, even if they killed him.
After feeding both Killashandra and Shingam-himself, Trowa, Heero, and Duo had all gone to Corinne's for the first session with the children. Sally and Wufei had met them there. Lady Une came through to watch just as Shingam began to refuse the questions.
"I'm not answering any more." Arms crossed in front of his chest, his body didn't look at all threatening, but his face, his eyes, told a tale of violence should he be made to continue.
Shingam was sitting on the couch Quatre had been lying on only a few hours before. The others were scattered about the room with Corinne sitting in a chair directly in front of Shingam.
Corinne spoke with kindness and infinite patience. "Shingam, I know you don't want to answer any more, but these questions and your answers are helping me to help you."
"I don't need any help!" It was almost a shout, almost a yell. Surprisingly, it was Duo that rescued them all.
"Hey, buddy, no worries. Listen, why don't you answer Corinne's last question and then you'll be done for the day. We'll give Killashandra a turn, and then you, me, and everybody else can go get some more ice cream, sound good?" Duo's eyes lit up, and it was easy to tell he actually was looking forward to spending time with Shingam.
"Can-can we have the white kind? Va-vanil-"
"Vanilla. And yeah, if that's the kind you want, then that's the kind you'll get! But you know, I think there were a few more flavors we didn't get to try last time. Maybe we'll pull out all the ice cream again and then you and Killashandra can pick what you want. How's that sound, Quatre?"
Duo looked expectantly at Quatre, but the blonde's eyes weren't paying any attention to the scene before him. His stare was out the window, his thoughts were introspective.
"Quatre?"
Startled, Quatre looked up at Duo and blushed. "Sorry, I didn't hear what you said."
Heaving a dramatic sigh, Duo restated his question. "After the session how's about we give the kids another taste of ice cream?"
"You'll spoil their dinners."
"So?"
But Quatre didn't have the energy to continue. He waved his hand in a gesture of uncaring acceptance and quickly avoided the stare Corinne threw his way. He'd already moved across the room under the pretense of settling Shingam for the session. He was now sitting on the other side of the room from Trowa, trying desperately not to look at his lover; desperately not to break down into tears. The link was thankfully silent and void.
Corinne's voice startled his attention back to the session currently going on.
"Ok, Shingam, last question. When I say the word, 'Mother,' what do you think of?"
The boy didn't hesitate. "Mother."
Corinne smiled. "That's right, the word 'Mother' what does it make you think of, feel?"
"I think of, Mother."
"No, Shingam-"
"Wait!" Quatre stood quickly from his seat and crossed the few feet that separated himself and the boy. Sitting on the couch, he lifted Shingam onto his lap before fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. Locating it he pulled out an image disk and quickly selected the picture he wanted. A beautiful blond woman in the early years of her life smiled back from a jungle paradise.
"Shingam, is this a picture of your mother?"
The boy took the imager and studied it, but shook his head at the same time. "She's not my mother, Killa and I don't have mothers'. But this is, Mother. She told us you were friends. That's why she said Killa and I could trust you."
Quatre closed his eyes against the pain of this new discovery. He'd suspected, but it hurt to know he'd been right.
"Quatre, who's the picture of?" It was Lady Une; he ignored her.
"Yes Shingam, she was a friend of mine. Tell me, did-did she treat you and Killa well? Was-was she nice to you?"
"Quatre?" This time it was Trowa, Quatre didn't turn to him.
Shingam looked at him as if he had no idea about anything. The boy shook his head. "She wasn't nice to us; but she wasn't mean either. Sometimes she'd sing to Killa to get her to go to sleep. Sometimes she'd put Killa and I in the bath and wash our hair. She read a book to us once, it was.nice. But she wasn't nice."
"How was she not nice? It sounds like she did nice things for you? It sounds like she was kind?" He was reaching and he knew it. He wanted so much to find some redeeming quality in her, to find a way to forgive her completely.
But Shingam shook his head again. His voice was quiet, soft, as if he expected that if he was overheard he'd be punished, despite Quatre's promises to the contrary. "She never stopped them from coming, and if they came to hurt Killa, she's hold me down so they could take her away. She wasn't nice, Quatre. Not nice like you and Trowa. Killa and I would rather be with you and Trowa, it's warm here, and there's all kinds of food. You're nice and even Duo and Heero are nice too. They read to us, more than one story. We want to stay with you." A slight panic had entered the boy's voice as he'd continued and Quatre had pulled the young one tighter into himself, sheltering the boy from fears and doubt.
"Shhhhh, Shingam. It's alright. You'll stay here with me for as long as you want. I understand now what she meant. I understand now." His last words weren't for Shingam's benefit but his own. He understood now, understood everything she'd said to him, and she was right, he would never forgive her.
Corinne's voice was soft. "Who's the picture of, Quatre?"
His voice was dead when he answered.
"Dorothy. Dorothy Cateloneia."
The room was silent out of respect; it wasn't proper to damn the dead.
A full minute passed before Shingam began to squirm in his lap, and Quatre set him on the floor. "Shingam, why don't you go sit with Heero and Duo?" The boy nodded and moved to sit between the two men that made room for him on the couch they currently occupied with Trowa.
Sensing the shift in subjects, Trowa stood, and carried Killashandra to sit on the couch beside Quatre. He wasn't ready for what happened next. Trowa reached for his hand, reached to give him a hand up and move him to sit back with the rest of them. But something happened, a blind terror at being touched by Trowa, by a man that he loved, by a man he lived the ultimate lie with. He'd pulled his hand away and recoiled before he'd even known he'd done it. Again, the room was silent.
Quatre couldn't look; he didn't dare look up and see the betrayal in Trowa's eyes. He tried his best to laugh it off. He forgot it was the second time in only three days that he'd recoiled for Trowa's touch.
"Sorry Trowa, you must have startled me." His hand felt like lead as he lifted it and placed it into Trowa's extended one. The disgust washed over him in waves, but he refused to acknowledge it, only a slight shiver throughout his entire body belied his true feelings at the simple contact.
Worried, but thinking he understood, Trowa pulled him up to stand. Quatre was about to move with him when he felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down to see that while Killashandra was by no means looking at him, her small hand held a gather of his kackee pants.
Thankful for an out he never would have needed or wanted before, he quickly pulled out of Trowa's grasp and sat back down on the couch beside Killa. The room sat in stunned silence as Killashandra, first looked up at him, and then as if she'd done it everyday of her life, crawled into his lap and leaned her head against his chest.
He gathered her limbs more comfortably against him and held her tightly, rocking her gently and smiling at her. "It's going to be ok, Killa. I'll sit with you if that'll make you feel better."
She didn't acknowledge either way, but some part of him knew she was scared, must be, and so he stayed. He told himself it was for her, that he was going to protect her, her if no one else.
"Quatre, are you alright?" Corinne's voice was laced with concern, but Quatre continued to look at Killa, smiling and softly rocking her.
"Fine. Let's get started."
Corinne hesitated, paused just long enough to worry him that she wouldn't continue but instead put him on the stand instead. When she started he couldn't suppress the sigh of relief he gave.
"Killashandra, I know you're a little scared, but you saw what happened with Shingam, I'm not going to hurt you; I just need some information so that I can help you better. Do you understand?" Corinne waited expectantly for some type of answer, strangely she seemed perplexed when none was forthcoming.
For Killashandra sat perfectly still in Quatre's lap, her head resting against his chest; her own chest rising and falling quietly in the silent room. Quatre continued to run artist's hands through her white locks, taking note that Trowa must have again scrunched them before they'd left the apartment.
"Killashandra?" Corinne expected an answer.
"She won't talk to you. Killa doesn't talk to anyone." Shingam's chin was high as he regarded Corinne with as much contempt as a five year old could.
"Why not, Shingam?"
"'Cause. You don't know how to listen." Suddenly, Shingam looked small again. To their surprise, he latched himself onto Heero's arm, wrapping both of his emaciated limbs around the much larger and toned one.
"Shingam, what do you mean I don't know how to listen?" Corinne was trying to reach Shingam, but Quatre knew it was useless, the boy wouldn't answer anymore of her questions. He'd already said more than he'd wanted too.
"Shingam--" Corinne started.
"Don't." Quatre cut her off. Stopped her silent as he continued to stroke the hair of a girl that lived in her own little world.
"Quatre I need to--"
"You need to leave them alone. They've been through enough." To mark his point he tightened his hold about Killashandra's small body. Wrapping her in the warmth she and Shingam seemed so desperately to crave.
This time, Lady Une stepped in. "Quatre, I understand you're desire to protect these children, it would be the same for me if Marieminna were in their places; but Quatre they do need help, you've said as much yourself. They also know more about the Tragona faction, and we need that knowledge to find those that escaped and put the ones we have behind bars. Quatre," something in her voice made him look up. "I wouldn't put a child through this if I had any other choice."
The way she said it, the sincerity in her voice, swayed Quatre almost immediately. As much as he hated it, more than Shingam, Killashandra could be the one to solve the mystery and end it all, here and now. For her sake, he knew he needed to end this.
Lifting her chin with his hand, he smiled lovingly at her when her eyes focused on his own.
"Killa, I know you're scared and that you don't want to do this. I understand, really I do. I'm going to make this as easy for you as I can, ok? I want you to listen to Corinne's questions and then tell Shingam your answers, that way you can answer the questions, but you don't have to say a word. OK? Will you do that for me?"
She didn't acknowledge, but as he moved his fingers from under her chin, he felt her give a sigh before returning her cheek to his chest. He looked pointedly at Corinne. "Try again."
Nodding, she began.
"Killashandra, I'm going to say a word, and you tell me the first thing that comes to mind when I say it. OK?"
Shingam answered for her, like Quatre knew he would. "Ok."
It threw Corinne off for a moment as she adjusted to the new situation.
"Alright. Killashandra, what's the first thing you think about when I say the word, 'Black'?"
Shingam again answered after a moment, "Space."
Corinne nodded, "Good. Ok, what about, 'White'?"
"Coat." Shingam's voice shook as he said it, and he seemed to hold on tighter to Heero's arm.
"Coat? What do you mean by 'coat'?"
"The white coats." Now Shingam looked entirely uncomfortable, and Quatre was sure he was about to refuse to answer any more questions again.
"Shingam, I don't understand?"
"You wouldn't." Quatre's voice startled even himself; he hadn't meant to say anything. A questioning look fell across his face, he looked down to the girl resting in his arms. Then suddenly he understood.
"It's the bad men in the lab coats; isn't it Killa? The bad men that hurt Shingam; that hit him. That's what you mean, isn't it?"
Killa didn't reply, she didn't have too, Shingam did the talking for her, "Yes, they--they were bad."
Quatre nodded, then looked pointedly at Corinne. "Continue."
"Quatre I need to ask Killashandra more about these lab coat wearing-- "
"She won't tell you anymore, just continue."
"Quatre--"
"Continue!" His voice was cold, like new metal, unyielding and unforgiving. Corinne noted it.
"Quatre, perhaps you're connection to the children is more of a hindrance here than a help. I think maybe you should wait outside and--"
She stopped at the astonishing scene that unraveled before them all. Just as Corinne had suggested he leave, Killashandra had gripped his shirt tightly in both her small fists and buried her face in his silk covered chest. The statement was clear: Quatre stayed.
With a sigh, Corinne decided to continue.
"Killashandra, what do you think of when I say the word, 'Earth'?"
"Quatre." Shingam's voice was strong and clear.
"Ok, good. Now, what about when I say the word, 'Love'?"
Shingam didn't answer. Corinne turned expectantly towards him but the boy just shrugged his shoulders, "She didn't say anything."
"Did she hear my question?"
Shingam nodded. "She doesn't have anything to say about it."
Corinne nodded once to herself before scratching something down on her pad of paper. "Last one, Killashandra, then we'll do a different exercise. Tell me the first thing you think of when you hear the word, 'Water'."
Later, the occupants of the room would remember that for a moment it was silent, a split second before it all began. The calm before the storm, before the empathic storm.
Quatre didn't know if it was because he was holding Killashandra when it happened, or if it would have been the same had he been on the other side of the sun. A second of calm; a second filled with the deep intake of breath by a little girl who'd witnessed too much pain and hatred in her four years of life. A full second before it was confirmed that Killashandra could indeed make sound but simply refused too. A half millenium second where Quatre realized what was coming but didn't have time to prepare his own shields, only enough time to throw a quick and barley useful one around his half of the link; he'd later wonder how he even managed that.
The scream from Killashandra's lungs pierced the air around them, and were it possible, seemed to shatter that very same air. She flung her small head back and screamed her pain, her rage, her every emotion, and with that scream, came the effects of a storm that all with empathic abilities feared on a subconscious level of terror.
The empathic storm hit Quatre first, slamming into him and rendering his instinctive blocks to dust and whispered debree. He heard Corinne scream, but it didn't matter, nothing else mattered but the pain of having ones own mind ripped apart.
It wasn't like at Jeovony's shop, when Killashandra had been frightened; this was the full blown extent of her trauma, her life's pain up to this point, rushing him all at once and mingling with his own; mixing to form one great and tragic pain.
They were so similar, so much alike. One agony blended into another, overwhelming him.
Vaguely he could sense the others closing in on him; desperate to find out what was going on. Quatre didn't know, but he knew one thing; he had to protect Killashandra. She from herself; her own memories, and his, which crossed the invisible barrier between one mind and the next and attacked her system as much as her's did his. They were linked in their agony; linked in their pain; linked in that both of them stretched what was left of their shields to protect those they loved; he to protect Trowa, she to protect Shingam.
He wasn't sure when exactly it happened. One minute he was staring at the blank space that exists behind closed eyes, the next he was in a large room. Immediately he recognized the feeling that surrounded him. Like before, in his nightmares, he was bearing witness to the suffering of two terrified little children.
A circular tank, about three feet in diameter stood in the middle of the room surrounded by consoles that flashed green, red and blue. The water was crystal clear at the bottom, but it was layered, clear at the bottom, an odd pinkish color at the top. A ladder led up to the opened top, about eight feet above the floor. He only had a minute to take it all in before the scene began to play out.
In a flash of light the players were surrounding him. Three men in white lab coats stood next to a barely clothed Shingam, two of them held his arms in a bruising grip. In front of the boy was a man in a brown business suit; he looked to be in his early fifties with graying hair and an old fashioned dignity to him. Quatre shifted his eyes in time to see one more scientist, this one at the top of the ladder leading to the open mouth of the water filled tank; Killashandra held tightly in his clutches.
Suddenly, there was sound, and Quatre could hear a soft whimpering; it took him a second to realize it was coming from Killashandra.
"I hope you're paying attention!" Quatre turned swiftly, realizing the old man was speaking to Shingam. "You failed, you're worthless! You had a simply assignment and you couldn't even accomplish that! Now you watch, boy! Watch as you're other half dies before your eyes! You did this! You caused it! You didn't protect her, and now she's going to die, all because of you! You'll feel what death is like, that way you'll know what to expect if you don't complete you're mission again!"
Mission? The boy looked no older than four. He was struggling, not quite pleading, but his eyes, Shingam's proud eyes, begged for mercy.
Then the old man turned, turned with deliberate care, and pointed an accusing finger at Killashandra and said words that froze Quatre's heart. "Kill her."
It happened so quickly then. The scientist shoved Killashandra into the tank and immediately closed the hatch, effectively sealing off the supply of oxygen to her soon starving lungs. He felt his mouth move, felt his lungs take in oxygen to scream in indignation, but no sound came out of his throat, and try as he might, Quatre couldn't move, only watch silently as Killashandra's instincts took over and she began to panic in the water.
Small hands beat against plexi-glass and her bare feet kicked for all she was worth, begging purchase in the water to lift her body back up to the surface. It was obvious from her movements-Killashandra didn't know how to swim. There was panic on her face, real emotion, and for a moment, Quatre felt an odd sense of relief; that this child who showed no feelings at all could actually feel. It was short lived.
"NO!!!" The scream came from his left and again Quatre turned to watch Shingam. The small boy fought for all he was worth; striking out and kick the men that held him. Quatre felt a great sense of pride and satisfaction that it took all three men to hold him back. Those feelings died away as he watched Shingam begin to weep. "NO!! Please let her out! Let her out! Killa!!! Killa!!!"
The lack of a certain sound had Quatre franticly shifting his gaze once again to the tube of water that held Killashandra. She'd been in there for over a minute by his calculations, far too long for a child her size. The sound that was missing was the beating of Killa's small hands and feet against the plastic.
Her eyes were glassy, like they were now, reflecting the world, but seeing nothing. He tried to scream, tried again to break free from his paralysis to reach her, but it was no use, try as he might, he couldn't move, he couldn't even scream his outrage.
"Do you like that Shingami? Do you like what you're feeling? Do you like death?" The old man was taunting Shingam, roughly smacking him against the head with an open palm as he spoke. "Can you feel her dying? Can you feel her suffering because of you? She's dying because you didn't try hard enough, you gave up! She's dying because you killed her, because you didn't protect her! You didn't fight hard enough, and now she's paying for it! Do you feel her suffering, Shingami? Is she begging you to help her in your head?"
They knew. The scientist knew that Shingam and Killa were linked, they were torturing Shingam by making him witness Killashandra's death. But--
"Sir?"
Quatre looked back at the tank, at the scientist that had spoken. He screamed louder than he'd ever screamed before in his life then, and heard it echoed by Shingam. Killa no longer floated between the line that separated clear water from pink, instead she lay at the bottom of the tank; and Quatre watched in horror as her body finally surcam to it's biological directive, gasped for breath, and inhaled only water into lungs designed for air. He watched in horror as the last remains of oxygen floated to the surface of the tank in bubbles before bursting at the surface, bursting in protest to the end of one child's life.
The scream that tore from Shingam's throat was purely primal; like an animal losing it's mate. Tears in his eyes, Quatre could only watch as Shingam fought for all his small body was worth to get to the little girl he protected with is life.
One of the men kicked the legs from under the boy and down he went, before trying to crawl away from them to Killa. Her name was a constant litany from his lips. And suddenly, Quatre understood what the old man had meant; Shingam really was feeling death, he was feeling Killashandra die.
The kick was so sudden it caught even Quatre's grief stricken and horrified mind by surprise. The brightly polished boot came up under Shingam's chin, snapping his head back and knocking his teeth together in an audible click. The boy would have been propelled backwards if not for the three men holding him, and Quatre's silent screams were cut off in shock that Shingam's neck didn't snap with the force. Again, the old man spoke. "She's dead because of you. You killed her because you didn't do what you were told. You'll fight, that's why we invested so much into you! You'll fight, and you'll kill, and you'll do so when you're told! Fight or die! Die like the little bitch in there." He pointed towards the tank, and Quatre snarled in hatred. All around him he could feel Shingam's self hatred and agony. Killashandra was dead, and it was all his fault.
"Now," the old man spoke again. "We cannot expect young Shingami to know what fighting is unless we show him, now can we?" Pointedly, he looked at the three men. "Beat him until he screams."
They were on the child in a flash, as if they'd known the command was coming and they were but waiting for the signal. Fists and solid shoes connected with four year old flesh, and Shingam, whether from the mental agony of Killashandra's death or from shock and exhaustion, did not fight back. He was a bloody mess in seconds, and all Quatre could do was watch, tears blurring his vision as he screamed for them to stop.
When it became apparent that Shingam was finally unconscious, the old man walked over to the tank and tapped on the glass in the most obscene imitation of a joke. "Well, we can't just give up an investment like this, now can we? Fish her out; then give her to Catalonia. I need to make sure that that woman understands that when I tell her to teach the boy to defend the girl, I mean it." With that he walked over to the door and exited, as if a meeting was over and it was time for lunch.
In morbid shock, Quatre watched as the men continued to beat Shingam's unconscious body, while the scientist at the tank pressed a few buttons on a control panel. The grated floor of the tube rose, lifting Killashandra's body to the top of the tank, where the man undid the latch and pulled her lifeless body out by one hand and her hair.
Hauling her down the steps, he dropped her on the floor, dried off his hands, and then reached for a machine Quatre hadn't seen before this moment; it was a machine he'd seen used before on Trowa, one used to start a stopped heart.
In a mockery of the physician profession, the scientist smiled to himself and said, "Clear," before sending a high voltage pulse through Killashandra's tiny water soaked body. Quatre watched her body lifted off the ground by the released energy, and wept tears when the monitor remained a flat line. The scientist only laughed. "Guess she's gonna be stubborn this time."
This time. This had happened before. And in the blink of an eye, Quatre knew this to be so. He saw in a single second the dozens of times this very act had been inflicted upon the children. It was punishment, it was torture, it was the very thing Shingam was so afraid would happen if he or Killa misbehaved. Killa thrown into a tank of water, Shingam forced to watch her slowly suffocate, then beaten unconscious, Killashandra roughly revived, only to start all over again when "They" were displeased. They killed Killashandra to torture Shingam into doing what they told him too. They brought her back to life to do it again and again.
Quatre had the sense to wonder how this could be so; how a body as young as Killashandra's could possibly survive that type of strain. But he didn't have time to consider it as he heard the sizzle of electricity, and then the blessed beeping of Killashandra's heart again start pumping both blood and oxygen throughout her body. Quatre cried with relief.
To his left he watched as the men finally stopped their barrage on Shingam's decimated body. The boy was a mass of bruises, broken bones, and blood-so much blood.
And then, like a whispered prayer meant for God, Quatre her Shingam's voice in his head, heard it like the boy was speaking. "I feel you; do you live?"
There was an answer back, but it wasn't spoken in words, instead it was an emotion, so strong and terror filled that Quatre cried out in agony to hear it. The answer was 'Yes,' but just barely.
The side door opened again, and this time, Quatre screamed in outrage and hatred as Dorothy Catalonia entered the room, took one look at the children and merely shook her head.
"I almost couldn't revive her. He left her in there longer than usual." The scientist stood, his voice gave no hint of caring either way.
Dorothy nodded before moving to pick Killashandra up off the floor. She walked over to Shingam before shaking her head. "His bones are broken."
"They'll heal." This from one of the men.
"Of course they will," Dorothy snapped. "But I can't move him like this. Bring him back to their cell. I'll tend him there." With that she moved away from Shingam with a half flip of her long blonde hair. There wasn't an ounce of womanly care in her voice; it was like she didn't even recognize the children as human.
Shingam was roughly thrown over the shoulder of one man, and hauled without mercy after Dorothy. A pool of blood marking where his body had been felled.
Quatre blinked his eyes, and suddenly he was looking into green orbs of terror. Trowa stood over him, shaking him, begging him wake up. A sudden wave of panic swept over him, and Quatre recoiled in utter terror from Trowa's touch. His own fears about Trowa, mixed with the after shock of what he'd just witnessed sent him across the couch, clutching Killashandra too him, protecting her with his body, while his mouth screamed. "Stay away from us! I won't let you hurt her!"
He saw the fear cross Trowa's face as he took an involuntary step away from Quatre's defensive form. He saw but could do nothing to stop himself-he didn't want to stop himself! He had to protect them, he finally understood what they'd been through, and he had to keep them safe.
His eyes swung wildly around the room. Lady Une, Sally and Wufei stood against the back wall of the office, while Heero and Duo held a shaking Shingam between them; Corinne lay slumped in her chair, barely breathing. He didn't know how long it had taken, didn't know if it was seconds or minutes; he didn't care.
"Shingam, come here!" His voice was commanding, but even he could hear the fear in it. He was terrified. Shingam was too far from him, if Heero or Duo tried to hurt the boy, he wouldn't have enough time to reach him before it began.
Shingam didn't hesitate; he tried to bolt from the couch, but was stopped by Heero's strong arms about his waist. The boy screamed in pure rage and terror; he'd been effected by the storm only a little less than Killashandra.
Quatre didn't register the words he then said until long after Shingam was housed in the safety of his arms, Heero's shock having allowed the boy to squirm free. "Let the boy go, Heero, or I swear by Allah I will kill everyone you hold dear." Later he would realize he'd been perfectly calm as he'd said it; perfectly calm, and completely serious.
With Shingam in his arms, Quatre bolted off the couch and moved into a corner of the room, back himself in and sitting on the floor, one child, clutched in each arm. His words were sobbed, but no less meaningful because they carried behind them all the emotion his overtaxed system could provide.
"It'll be ok. I'm going to protect you. No one will ever hurt you again. That's never going to happen again. You're safe, you're both safe. I'm never going to let anything happen to you again. I'll protect you. Shhhhhhh. I'll protect you. It'll be alright, I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you safe."
It took the others nearly an hour to calm him down, another two before he'd let the children out of his arms, and another two day's before he let either Killashandra or Shingam out of his sight.
Three day's later, Corinne woke up from the comma the empathic storm had put her in. By then, Quatre had explained what he'd learned from the link, what the children had been subjected too. The efforts to unlock the rest of the Tragona faction's files doubled. Kill men, destroy machines, rape women: products of war; torture children, unacceptable.
For five nights, Quatre slept with the children, two precious bundles tucked under each arm; Trowa slept in a chair by the bed, praying that the worst was over. With four days left until Christmas, and Quatre still recoiling from his touch, he should have known better.
What is Christmas all about but presents, and during such a blissful season, how could the Winner sisters fail to bestow upon their baby brother but the most memorable of gifts.
Quatre had decided early on not to think about what had happened between himself and Trowa. Everything inside of him screamed that this was wrong, that he and Trowa couldn't possibly continue like they were; but Trowa needed to be in control-couldn't stand it any other way-and Quatre loved him enough to comply with his wishes, even if they killed him.
After feeding both Killashandra and Shingam-himself, Trowa, Heero, and Duo had all gone to Corinne's for the first session with the children. Sally and Wufei had met them there. Lady Une came through to watch just as Shingam began to refuse the questions.
"I'm not answering any more." Arms crossed in front of his chest, his body didn't look at all threatening, but his face, his eyes, told a tale of violence should he be made to continue.
Shingam was sitting on the couch Quatre had been lying on only a few hours before. The others were scattered about the room with Corinne sitting in a chair directly in front of Shingam.
Corinne spoke with kindness and infinite patience. "Shingam, I know you don't want to answer any more, but these questions and your answers are helping me to help you."
"I don't need any help!" It was almost a shout, almost a yell. Surprisingly, it was Duo that rescued them all.
"Hey, buddy, no worries. Listen, why don't you answer Corinne's last question and then you'll be done for the day. We'll give Killashandra a turn, and then you, me, and everybody else can go get some more ice cream, sound good?" Duo's eyes lit up, and it was easy to tell he actually was looking forward to spending time with Shingam.
"Can-can we have the white kind? Va-vanil-"
"Vanilla. And yeah, if that's the kind you want, then that's the kind you'll get! But you know, I think there were a few more flavors we didn't get to try last time. Maybe we'll pull out all the ice cream again and then you and Killashandra can pick what you want. How's that sound, Quatre?"
Duo looked expectantly at Quatre, but the blonde's eyes weren't paying any attention to the scene before him. His stare was out the window, his thoughts were introspective.
"Quatre?"
Startled, Quatre looked up at Duo and blushed. "Sorry, I didn't hear what you said."
Heaving a dramatic sigh, Duo restated his question. "After the session how's about we give the kids another taste of ice cream?"
"You'll spoil their dinners."
"So?"
But Quatre didn't have the energy to continue. He waved his hand in a gesture of uncaring acceptance and quickly avoided the stare Corinne threw his way. He'd already moved across the room under the pretense of settling Shingam for the session. He was now sitting on the other side of the room from Trowa, trying desperately not to look at his lover; desperately not to break down into tears. The link was thankfully silent and void.
Corinne's voice startled his attention back to the session currently going on.
"Ok, Shingam, last question. When I say the word, 'Mother,' what do you think of?"
The boy didn't hesitate. "Mother."
Corinne smiled. "That's right, the word 'Mother' what does it make you think of, feel?"
"I think of, Mother."
"No, Shingam-"
"Wait!" Quatre stood quickly from his seat and crossed the few feet that separated himself and the boy. Sitting on the couch, he lifted Shingam onto his lap before fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. Locating it he pulled out an image disk and quickly selected the picture he wanted. A beautiful blond woman in the early years of her life smiled back from a jungle paradise.
"Shingam, is this a picture of your mother?"
The boy took the imager and studied it, but shook his head at the same time. "She's not my mother, Killa and I don't have mothers'. But this is, Mother. She told us you were friends. That's why she said Killa and I could trust you."
Quatre closed his eyes against the pain of this new discovery. He'd suspected, but it hurt to know he'd been right.
"Quatre, who's the picture of?" It was Lady Une; he ignored her.
"Yes Shingam, she was a friend of mine. Tell me, did-did she treat you and Killa well? Was-was she nice to you?"
"Quatre?" This time it was Trowa, Quatre didn't turn to him.
Shingam looked at him as if he had no idea about anything. The boy shook his head. "She wasn't nice to us; but she wasn't mean either. Sometimes she'd sing to Killa to get her to go to sleep. Sometimes she'd put Killa and I in the bath and wash our hair. She read a book to us once, it was.nice. But she wasn't nice."
"How was she not nice? It sounds like she did nice things for you? It sounds like she was kind?" He was reaching and he knew it. He wanted so much to find some redeeming quality in her, to find a way to forgive her completely.
But Shingam shook his head again. His voice was quiet, soft, as if he expected that if he was overheard he'd be punished, despite Quatre's promises to the contrary. "She never stopped them from coming, and if they came to hurt Killa, she's hold me down so they could take her away. She wasn't nice, Quatre. Not nice like you and Trowa. Killa and I would rather be with you and Trowa, it's warm here, and there's all kinds of food. You're nice and even Duo and Heero are nice too. They read to us, more than one story. We want to stay with you." A slight panic had entered the boy's voice as he'd continued and Quatre had pulled the young one tighter into himself, sheltering the boy from fears and doubt.
"Shhhhh, Shingam. It's alright. You'll stay here with me for as long as you want. I understand now what she meant. I understand now." His last words weren't for Shingam's benefit but his own. He understood now, understood everything she'd said to him, and she was right, he would never forgive her.
Corinne's voice was soft. "Who's the picture of, Quatre?"
His voice was dead when he answered.
"Dorothy. Dorothy Cateloneia."
The room was silent out of respect; it wasn't proper to damn the dead.
A full minute passed before Shingam began to squirm in his lap, and Quatre set him on the floor. "Shingam, why don't you go sit with Heero and Duo?" The boy nodded and moved to sit between the two men that made room for him on the couch they currently occupied with Trowa.
Sensing the shift in subjects, Trowa stood, and carried Killashandra to sit on the couch beside Quatre. He wasn't ready for what happened next. Trowa reached for his hand, reached to give him a hand up and move him to sit back with the rest of them. But something happened, a blind terror at being touched by Trowa, by a man that he loved, by a man he lived the ultimate lie with. He'd pulled his hand away and recoiled before he'd even known he'd done it. Again, the room was silent.
Quatre couldn't look; he didn't dare look up and see the betrayal in Trowa's eyes. He tried his best to laugh it off. He forgot it was the second time in only three days that he'd recoiled for Trowa's touch.
"Sorry Trowa, you must have startled me." His hand felt like lead as he lifted it and placed it into Trowa's extended one. The disgust washed over him in waves, but he refused to acknowledge it, only a slight shiver throughout his entire body belied his true feelings at the simple contact.
Worried, but thinking he understood, Trowa pulled him up to stand. Quatre was about to move with him when he felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down to see that while Killashandra was by no means looking at him, her small hand held a gather of his kackee pants.
Thankful for an out he never would have needed or wanted before, he quickly pulled out of Trowa's grasp and sat back down on the couch beside Killa. The room sat in stunned silence as Killashandra, first looked up at him, and then as if she'd done it everyday of her life, crawled into his lap and leaned her head against his chest.
He gathered her limbs more comfortably against him and held her tightly, rocking her gently and smiling at her. "It's going to be ok, Killa. I'll sit with you if that'll make you feel better."
She didn't acknowledge either way, but some part of him knew she was scared, must be, and so he stayed. He told himself it was for her, that he was going to protect her, her if no one else.
"Quatre, are you alright?" Corinne's voice was laced with concern, but Quatre continued to look at Killa, smiling and softly rocking her.
"Fine. Let's get started."
Corinne hesitated, paused just long enough to worry him that she wouldn't continue but instead put him on the stand instead. When she started he couldn't suppress the sigh of relief he gave.
"Killashandra, I know you're a little scared, but you saw what happened with Shingam, I'm not going to hurt you; I just need some information so that I can help you better. Do you understand?" Corinne waited expectantly for some type of answer, strangely she seemed perplexed when none was forthcoming.
For Killashandra sat perfectly still in Quatre's lap, her head resting against his chest; her own chest rising and falling quietly in the silent room. Quatre continued to run artist's hands through her white locks, taking note that Trowa must have again scrunched them before they'd left the apartment.
"Killashandra?" Corinne expected an answer.
"She won't talk to you. Killa doesn't talk to anyone." Shingam's chin was high as he regarded Corinne with as much contempt as a five year old could.
"Why not, Shingam?"
"'Cause. You don't know how to listen." Suddenly, Shingam looked small again. To their surprise, he latched himself onto Heero's arm, wrapping both of his emaciated limbs around the much larger and toned one.
"Shingam, what do you mean I don't know how to listen?" Corinne was trying to reach Shingam, but Quatre knew it was useless, the boy wouldn't answer anymore of her questions. He'd already said more than he'd wanted too.
"Shingam--" Corinne started.
"Don't." Quatre cut her off. Stopped her silent as he continued to stroke the hair of a girl that lived in her own little world.
"Quatre I need to--"
"You need to leave them alone. They've been through enough." To mark his point he tightened his hold about Killashandra's small body. Wrapping her in the warmth she and Shingam seemed so desperately to crave.
This time, Lady Une stepped in. "Quatre, I understand you're desire to protect these children, it would be the same for me if Marieminna were in their places; but Quatre they do need help, you've said as much yourself. They also know more about the Tragona faction, and we need that knowledge to find those that escaped and put the ones we have behind bars. Quatre," something in her voice made him look up. "I wouldn't put a child through this if I had any other choice."
The way she said it, the sincerity in her voice, swayed Quatre almost immediately. As much as he hated it, more than Shingam, Killashandra could be the one to solve the mystery and end it all, here and now. For her sake, he knew he needed to end this.
Lifting her chin with his hand, he smiled lovingly at her when her eyes focused on his own.
"Killa, I know you're scared and that you don't want to do this. I understand, really I do. I'm going to make this as easy for you as I can, ok? I want you to listen to Corinne's questions and then tell Shingam your answers, that way you can answer the questions, but you don't have to say a word. OK? Will you do that for me?"
She didn't acknowledge, but as he moved his fingers from under her chin, he felt her give a sigh before returning her cheek to his chest. He looked pointedly at Corinne. "Try again."
Nodding, she began.
"Killashandra, I'm going to say a word, and you tell me the first thing that comes to mind when I say it. OK?"
Shingam answered for her, like Quatre knew he would. "Ok."
It threw Corinne off for a moment as she adjusted to the new situation.
"Alright. Killashandra, what's the first thing you think about when I say the word, 'Black'?"
Shingam again answered after a moment, "Space."
Corinne nodded, "Good. Ok, what about, 'White'?"
"Coat." Shingam's voice shook as he said it, and he seemed to hold on tighter to Heero's arm.
"Coat? What do you mean by 'coat'?"
"The white coats." Now Shingam looked entirely uncomfortable, and Quatre was sure he was about to refuse to answer any more questions again.
"Shingam, I don't understand?"
"You wouldn't." Quatre's voice startled even himself; he hadn't meant to say anything. A questioning look fell across his face, he looked down to the girl resting in his arms. Then suddenly he understood.
"It's the bad men in the lab coats; isn't it Killa? The bad men that hurt Shingam; that hit him. That's what you mean, isn't it?"
Killa didn't reply, she didn't have too, Shingam did the talking for her, "Yes, they--they were bad."
Quatre nodded, then looked pointedly at Corinne. "Continue."
"Quatre I need to ask Killashandra more about these lab coat wearing-- "
"She won't tell you anymore, just continue."
"Quatre--"
"Continue!" His voice was cold, like new metal, unyielding and unforgiving. Corinne noted it.
"Quatre, perhaps you're connection to the children is more of a hindrance here than a help. I think maybe you should wait outside and--"
She stopped at the astonishing scene that unraveled before them all. Just as Corinne had suggested he leave, Killashandra had gripped his shirt tightly in both her small fists and buried her face in his silk covered chest. The statement was clear: Quatre stayed.
With a sigh, Corinne decided to continue.
"Killashandra, what do you think of when I say the word, 'Earth'?"
"Quatre." Shingam's voice was strong and clear.
"Ok, good. Now, what about when I say the word, 'Love'?"
Shingam didn't answer. Corinne turned expectantly towards him but the boy just shrugged his shoulders, "She didn't say anything."
"Did she hear my question?"
Shingam nodded. "She doesn't have anything to say about it."
Corinne nodded once to herself before scratching something down on her pad of paper. "Last one, Killashandra, then we'll do a different exercise. Tell me the first thing you think of when you hear the word, 'Water'."
Later, the occupants of the room would remember that for a moment it was silent, a split second before it all began. The calm before the storm, before the empathic storm.
Quatre didn't know if it was because he was holding Killashandra when it happened, or if it would have been the same had he been on the other side of the sun. A second of calm; a second filled with the deep intake of breath by a little girl who'd witnessed too much pain and hatred in her four years of life. A full second before it was confirmed that Killashandra could indeed make sound but simply refused too. A half millenium second where Quatre realized what was coming but didn't have time to prepare his own shields, only enough time to throw a quick and barley useful one around his half of the link; he'd later wonder how he even managed that.
The scream from Killashandra's lungs pierced the air around them, and were it possible, seemed to shatter that very same air. She flung her small head back and screamed her pain, her rage, her every emotion, and with that scream, came the effects of a storm that all with empathic abilities feared on a subconscious level of terror.
The empathic storm hit Quatre first, slamming into him and rendering his instinctive blocks to dust and whispered debree. He heard Corinne scream, but it didn't matter, nothing else mattered but the pain of having ones own mind ripped apart.
It wasn't like at Jeovony's shop, when Killashandra had been frightened; this was the full blown extent of her trauma, her life's pain up to this point, rushing him all at once and mingling with his own; mixing to form one great and tragic pain.
They were so similar, so much alike. One agony blended into another, overwhelming him.
Vaguely he could sense the others closing in on him; desperate to find out what was going on. Quatre didn't know, but he knew one thing; he had to protect Killashandra. She from herself; her own memories, and his, which crossed the invisible barrier between one mind and the next and attacked her system as much as her's did his. They were linked in their agony; linked in their pain; linked in that both of them stretched what was left of their shields to protect those they loved; he to protect Trowa, she to protect Shingam.
He wasn't sure when exactly it happened. One minute he was staring at the blank space that exists behind closed eyes, the next he was in a large room. Immediately he recognized the feeling that surrounded him. Like before, in his nightmares, he was bearing witness to the suffering of two terrified little children.
A circular tank, about three feet in diameter stood in the middle of the room surrounded by consoles that flashed green, red and blue. The water was crystal clear at the bottom, but it was layered, clear at the bottom, an odd pinkish color at the top. A ladder led up to the opened top, about eight feet above the floor. He only had a minute to take it all in before the scene began to play out.
In a flash of light the players were surrounding him. Three men in white lab coats stood next to a barely clothed Shingam, two of them held his arms in a bruising grip. In front of the boy was a man in a brown business suit; he looked to be in his early fifties with graying hair and an old fashioned dignity to him. Quatre shifted his eyes in time to see one more scientist, this one at the top of the ladder leading to the open mouth of the water filled tank; Killashandra held tightly in his clutches.
Suddenly, there was sound, and Quatre could hear a soft whimpering; it took him a second to realize it was coming from Killashandra.
"I hope you're paying attention!" Quatre turned swiftly, realizing the old man was speaking to Shingam. "You failed, you're worthless! You had a simply assignment and you couldn't even accomplish that! Now you watch, boy! Watch as you're other half dies before your eyes! You did this! You caused it! You didn't protect her, and now she's going to die, all because of you! You'll feel what death is like, that way you'll know what to expect if you don't complete you're mission again!"
Mission? The boy looked no older than four. He was struggling, not quite pleading, but his eyes, Shingam's proud eyes, begged for mercy.
Then the old man turned, turned with deliberate care, and pointed an accusing finger at Killashandra and said words that froze Quatre's heart. "Kill her."
It happened so quickly then. The scientist shoved Killashandra into the tank and immediately closed the hatch, effectively sealing off the supply of oxygen to her soon starving lungs. He felt his mouth move, felt his lungs take in oxygen to scream in indignation, but no sound came out of his throat, and try as he might, Quatre couldn't move, only watch silently as Killashandra's instincts took over and she began to panic in the water.
Small hands beat against plexi-glass and her bare feet kicked for all she was worth, begging purchase in the water to lift her body back up to the surface. It was obvious from her movements-Killashandra didn't know how to swim. There was panic on her face, real emotion, and for a moment, Quatre felt an odd sense of relief; that this child who showed no feelings at all could actually feel. It was short lived.
"NO!!!" The scream came from his left and again Quatre turned to watch Shingam. The small boy fought for all he was worth; striking out and kick the men that held him. Quatre felt a great sense of pride and satisfaction that it took all three men to hold him back. Those feelings died away as he watched Shingam begin to weep. "NO!! Please let her out! Let her out! Killa!!! Killa!!!"
The lack of a certain sound had Quatre franticly shifting his gaze once again to the tube of water that held Killashandra. She'd been in there for over a minute by his calculations, far too long for a child her size. The sound that was missing was the beating of Killa's small hands and feet against the plastic.
Her eyes were glassy, like they were now, reflecting the world, but seeing nothing. He tried to scream, tried again to break free from his paralysis to reach her, but it was no use, try as he might, he couldn't move, he couldn't even scream his outrage.
"Do you like that Shingami? Do you like what you're feeling? Do you like death?" The old man was taunting Shingam, roughly smacking him against the head with an open palm as he spoke. "Can you feel her dying? Can you feel her suffering because of you? She's dying because you didn't try hard enough, you gave up! She's dying because you killed her, because you didn't protect her! You didn't fight hard enough, and now she's paying for it! Do you feel her suffering, Shingami? Is she begging you to help her in your head?"
They knew. The scientist knew that Shingam and Killa were linked, they were torturing Shingam by making him witness Killashandra's death. But--
"Sir?"
Quatre looked back at the tank, at the scientist that had spoken. He screamed louder than he'd ever screamed before in his life then, and heard it echoed by Shingam. Killa no longer floated between the line that separated clear water from pink, instead she lay at the bottom of the tank; and Quatre watched in horror as her body finally surcam to it's biological directive, gasped for breath, and inhaled only water into lungs designed for air. He watched in horror as the last remains of oxygen floated to the surface of the tank in bubbles before bursting at the surface, bursting in protest to the end of one child's life.
The scream that tore from Shingam's throat was purely primal; like an animal losing it's mate. Tears in his eyes, Quatre could only watch as Shingam fought for all his small body was worth to get to the little girl he protected with is life.
One of the men kicked the legs from under the boy and down he went, before trying to crawl away from them to Killa. Her name was a constant litany from his lips. And suddenly, Quatre understood what the old man had meant; Shingam really was feeling death, he was feeling Killashandra die.
The kick was so sudden it caught even Quatre's grief stricken and horrified mind by surprise. The brightly polished boot came up under Shingam's chin, snapping his head back and knocking his teeth together in an audible click. The boy would have been propelled backwards if not for the three men holding him, and Quatre's silent screams were cut off in shock that Shingam's neck didn't snap with the force. Again, the old man spoke. "She's dead because of you. You killed her because you didn't do what you were told. You'll fight, that's why we invested so much into you! You'll fight, and you'll kill, and you'll do so when you're told! Fight or die! Die like the little bitch in there." He pointed towards the tank, and Quatre snarled in hatred. All around him he could feel Shingam's self hatred and agony. Killashandra was dead, and it was all his fault.
"Now," the old man spoke again. "We cannot expect young Shingami to know what fighting is unless we show him, now can we?" Pointedly, he looked at the three men. "Beat him until he screams."
They were on the child in a flash, as if they'd known the command was coming and they were but waiting for the signal. Fists and solid shoes connected with four year old flesh, and Shingam, whether from the mental agony of Killashandra's death or from shock and exhaustion, did not fight back. He was a bloody mess in seconds, and all Quatre could do was watch, tears blurring his vision as he screamed for them to stop.
When it became apparent that Shingam was finally unconscious, the old man walked over to the tank and tapped on the glass in the most obscene imitation of a joke. "Well, we can't just give up an investment like this, now can we? Fish her out; then give her to Catalonia. I need to make sure that that woman understands that when I tell her to teach the boy to defend the girl, I mean it." With that he walked over to the door and exited, as if a meeting was over and it was time for lunch.
In morbid shock, Quatre watched as the men continued to beat Shingam's unconscious body, while the scientist at the tank pressed a few buttons on a control panel. The grated floor of the tube rose, lifting Killashandra's body to the top of the tank, where the man undid the latch and pulled her lifeless body out by one hand and her hair.
Hauling her down the steps, he dropped her on the floor, dried off his hands, and then reached for a machine Quatre hadn't seen before this moment; it was a machine he'd seen used before on Trowa, one used to start a stopped heart.
In a mockery of the physician profession, the scientist smiled to himself and said, "Clear," before sending a high voltage pulse through Killashandra's tiny water soaked body. Quatre watched her body lifted off the ground by the released energy, and wept tears when the monitor remained a flat line. The scientist only laughed. "Guess she's gonna be stubborn this time."
This time. This had happened before. And in the blink of an eye, Quatre knew this to be so. He saw in a single second the dozens of times this very act had been inflicted upon the children. It was punishment, it was torture, it was the very thing Shingam was so afraid would happen if he or Killa misbehaved. Killa thrown into a tank of water, Shingam forced to watch her slowly suffocate, then beaten unconscious, Killashandra roughly revived, only to start all over again when "They" were displeased. They killed Killashandra to torture Shingam into doing what they told him too. They brought her back to life to do it again and again.
Quatre had the sense to wonder how this could be so; how a body as young as Killashandra's could possibly survive that type of strain. But he didn't have time to consider it as he heard the sizzle of electricity, and then the blessed beeping of Killashandra's heart again start pumping both blood and oxygen throughout her body. Quatre cried with relief.
To his left he watched as the men finally stopped their barrage on Shingam's decimated body. The boy was a mass of bruises, broken bones, and blood-so much blood.
And then, like a whispered prayer meant for God, Quatre her Shingam's voice in his head, heard it like the boy was speaking. "I feel you; do you live?"
There was an answer back, but it wasn't spoken in words, instead it was an emotion, so strong and terror filled that Quatre cried out in agony to hear it. The answer was 'Yes,' but just barely.
The side door opened again, and this time, Quatre screamed in outrage and hatred as Dorothy Catalonia entered the room, took one look at the children and merely shook her head.
"I almost couldn't revive her. He left her in there longer than usual." The scientist stood, his voice gave no hint of caring either way.
Dorothy nodded before moving to pick Killashandra up off the floor. She walked over to Shingam before shaking her head. "His bones are broken."
"They'll heal." This from one of the men.
"Of course they will," Dorothy snapped. "But I can't move him like this. Bring him back to their cell. I'll tend him there." With that she moved away from Shingam with a half flip of her long blonde hair. There wasn't an ounce of womanly care in her voice; it was like she didn't even recognize the children as human.
Shingam was roughly thrown over the shoulder of one man, and hauled without mercy after Dorothy. A pool of blood marking where his body had been felled.
Quatre blinked his eyes, and suddenly he was looking into green orbs of terror. Trowa stood over him, shaking him, begging him wake up. A sudden wave of panic swept over him, and Quatre recoiled in utter terror from Trowa's touch. His own fears about Trowa, mixed with the after shock of what he'd just witnessed sent him across the couch, clutching Killashandra too him, protecting her with his body, while his mouth screamed. "Stay away from us! I won't let you hurt her!"
He saw the fear cross Trowa's face as he took an involuntary step away from Quatre's defensive form. He saw but could do nothing to stop himself-he didn't want to stop himself! He had to protect them, he finally understood what they'd been through, and he had to keep them safe.
His eyes swung wildly around the room. Lady Une, Sally and Wufei stood against the back wall of the office, while Heero and Duo held a shaking Shingam between them; Corinne lay slumped in her chair, barely breathing. He didn't know how long it had taken, didn't know if it was seconds or minutes; he didn't care.
"Shingam, come here!" His voice was commanding, but even he could hear the fear in it. He was terrified. Shingam was too far from him, if Heero or Duo tried to hurt the boy, he wouldn't have enough time to reach him before it began.
Shingam didn't hesitate; he tried to bolt from the couch, but was stopped by Heero's strong arms about his waist. The boy screamed in pure rage and terror; he'd been effected by the storm only a little less than Killashandra.
Quatre didn't register the words he then said until long after Shingam was housed in the safety of his arms, Heero's shock having allowed the boy to squirm free. "Let the boy go, Heero, or I swear by Allah I will kill everyone you hold dear." Later he would realize he'd been perfectly calm as he'd said it; perfectly calm, and completely serious.
With Shingam in his arms, Quatre bolted off the couch and moved into a corner of the room, back himself in and sitting on the floor, one child, clutched in each arm. His words were sobbed, but no less meaningful because they carried behind them all the emotion his overtaxed system could provide.
"It'll be ok. I'm going to protect you. No one will ever hurt you again. That's never going to happen again. You're safe, you're both safe. I'm never going to let anything happen to you again. I'll protect you. Shhhhhhh. I'll protect you. It'll be alright, I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you safe."
It took the others nearly an hour to calm him down, another two before he'd let the children out of his arms, and another two day's before he let either Killashandra or Shingam out of his sight.
Three day's later, Corinne woke up from the comma the empathic storm had put her in. By then, Quatre had explained what he'd learned from the link, what the children had been subjected too. The efforts to unlock the rest of the Tragona faction's files doubled. Kill men, destroy machines, rape women: products of war; torture children, unacceptable.
For five nights, Quatre slept with the children, two precious bundles tucked under each arm; Trowa slept in a chair by the bed, praying that the worst was over. With four days left until Christmas, and Quatre still recoiling from his touch, he should have known better.
What is Christmas all about but presents, and during such a blissful season, how could the Winner sisters fail to bestow upon their baby brother but the most memorable of gifts.