Chapter 4!!!!!! Yay! Go me! well, atleast I'm excited, and I know people don't really read a story until it has some meat on its bones. Ya know.......a plot. So, er.....I guess here's the 4th edition to it, hopefully u'll enjoy it as much as i did writing it!
With one hand placed atop her had that was about to be swept away with the wind, and the other clutching onto Quatre's hand, Catherine bounced along in the Jeep that Trowa drove down the sand covered streets toward the bazaar. With a totebag in hand that would carry Quatre's glock, a cell phone, her money, and a bowie knife that Trowa had given her incase she got separated. The jeep halted in front of the large sandstone archway that lead to the brightly colored market. Merchants held out merchandice to customers and tourists.
Helping her out, Quatre's arm went to it's saftey position around her waist. The other held her hand that had the purse secured between them. Leaning over like he was going to say an endearment, he whispered.
"Trowa said this may be our most dangerous time, he has to go park the jeep and come back to watch over us. So stay close and kiss me." He smiled wily. She laughed and turned giving him a chaste kiss.
"Why darling, That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard." She giggled. He chuckled and kissed her nose.
"Now that we have their attention, let's get you some items to show off." He smiled.
Cursing under his breath, a man in a white wrap dragged the binoculars away from his face. The two were closer than stink on shit! Tucking the vial of poison in his pocket again, he stood and snuck off the roof of the store. It was going to be tougher than he thought. Pulling out the walkie talkie from another pocket, he turned it on.
"It will be tougher than we thought, sir." He hissed over.
"Remember this is important. If we get the girl, Winner will suffer!" The hissing voice crackled over. "We were well paid to destroy him! Now, lay in wait until they seperate. I don't care but I want it done soon, even if you have to snatch her from her bed!" With a loud crackle, the other line was shut off. The henchman hung his head.
'Why must I do this to Master Quatre?' He sighed. Looking at the vial in his hand, he growled. 'I will protect him. I must! I will go to Master Quatre when he returns.' Looking around he saw the four other men posted around the bazaar. All because of him! Crouching down again, he sat and watched over then till they were ready to leave.
"Oh Quatre, it's beautiful!" Catherine exclaimed when she held up a light green and gold caftan.
"Even more on you." He leaned foreward and rubbed noses with her.
"You tease." She giggled. His arm pulled her flush against him.
"Hussy." He laughed melodically. He stopped when he saw movement atop the buildings. He froze and pulled Catherine to him hard. She stopped breathing, it was like everyone else faded away and it was just them and people hunting them. Quatre's eyes darted form side to side. The old woman looked at them strangely, Folding the Caftan, she placed it in a bag for purchase. Quatre pulled out several bills and paid the woman. Takign the bag, he held Catherine close. "The rooftops." he whispered in her ear. "Don't let go of me, ok?" He said softly. Nodding, she curled into him and pressed ehr face to his shoulder.
"I'm scared now Quatre." She clung to his arm.
"I'm right here." He soothed her by running a hand down her hair. It flowed like amber waves down her shoulders and back. His eyes narrowed, looking for Trowa in the group around him. He was hiding too well. Cursing under his breath, he gave a sidelong glance at the nervous Catherine. "Where the hell are you Trowa?" He hissed under his breath.
In reality, Trowa was slumped against the wall nearest to the jeep. Ahead of him a man in a desert swathing of clothes mumbled into a walkie talkie. His leather soled boots were noiseless and caught the ex-mercenary unguarded. His dark eyes swept from side to side trying to see if anyone was coming. Taking another look, he crept off, leaving the unconcious Trowa behind.
"Something is wrong." Quatre stated as he turned with Catherine still tucked in to his side. "Trowa would be visible to us now." He almost growled. "I don't know what, but something's wrong." He walked briskly back toward the Jeep.
"Quatre!" Catherine huffed. "Tell me!" His usually warm eyes were now an icy mint color. Piercing into her, he stated.
"I cannot feel him." Catherine paled, she knew the ex-pilot was an empath, and not feeling someone was not a good thing.
"No."She whispered. In shock, she was nearly dragged to the car.
"Trowa!" Catherine bolted from Quatre's side to kneel beside the limp form of her brother. "Trowa! Please be alright!" Crying, she fumbled to find his pulse in his neck, also hsi shallow breathing was a sign that he was only unconcious. Crying still, she hugged his still out cold body to her chest. "Oh Trowa, wake up." Beside her, Quatre nudged her aside and lifted his friend's body. Placing it in the back seat of the still running Jeep, he looked to Catherine still not saying anything. Catherine climbed int he back seat and put Trowa's head on her lap and brushed away his bangs, but a metallic smeel reached her nose, and her fingertips soon became sticky.
"Q..Quatre." She breah whooshed out. With teary eyes, she looked up to Quatre who's breathing had slowed.
"Oh,Allah." Jumping behind the wheel he gunned it toward home. Catherine, seeing no alternative to stop the bleeding, ripped off a good 5 inches up off her dress. Tieing it tightly aroujnd his head, she staunched the flow just a bit. Mumblign apologies and prayer, Catherine pressed kisses to his forehead.
"Please stay with me. Please." She cried. Tears dripped from her cheeks onto Trowa's face.
The Jeep came to a skidding halt in front of the Estate. Quatre nearly ripped the door off and relieved Catherine of Trowa.
"Hasaad!" Quatre yelled in his baritone voice. Several heads popped out from corners of the house like mice, and a tall thin man with impressive arms and a handlebar mustache rushed foreward. "Trowa has been knocked out cold by a knock to the head. He is also bleeding. Shallow breathing and slow heart rate as well. You are a doctor, fix him!" His voice was strained. His eyes had a glassy look to them. With blood smeared fingers and shirt, he turned back to see Catherine still in the car holding her head with both of her hands. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Rounding the car, he went to her door and slid her out. Cradled against him, she still cried but clutched to him like a life line. Murmuring endearments in Arabic, he pressed kisses to her cheeks and temples. Her dress now up about her upper thighs, and stained with blood, the two war victim look alikes, went upstairs.
He ran a bath and undressed them both to their undergarments, modesty was forgotten as the grief stricken pair washed in the large whirlpool tub. With a terry cloth rag in one hand, Quatre washed the blood from her face, the red streaks from her tears still stayed. Kissing the trails, he held her against him as she fell asleep exausted from crying and worry. Rubbing large circles on her back, he laid his forehead against her shoulder as she curled into his chest. Her hot tears bled down his chest as he reassured her that Trowa would be alright.
'For her sake and Relena's, be ok old pal.' Quatre prayed. Leaning back against the inclined back, he fell asleep with Catherine still laying against his chest.
With one hand placed atop her had that was about to be swept away with the wind, and the other clutching onto Quatre's hand, Catherine bounced along in the Jeep that Trowa drove down the sand covered streets toward the bazaar. With a totebag in hand that would carry Quatre's glock, a cell phone, her money, and a bowie knife that Trowa had given her incase she got separated. The jeep halted in front of the large sandstone archway that lead to the brightly colored market. Merchants held out merchandice to customers and tourists.
Helping her out, Quatre's arm went to it's saftey position around her waist. The other held her hand that had the purse secured between them. Leaning over like he was going to say an endearment, he whispered.
"Trowa said this may be our most dangerous time, he has to go park the jeep and come back to watch over us. So stay close and kiss me." He smiled wily. She laughed and turned giving him a chaste kiss.
"Why darling, That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard." She giggled. He chuckled and kissed her nose.
"Now that we have their attention, let's get you some items to show off." He smiled.
Cursing under his breath, a man in a white wrap dragged the binoculars away from his face. The two were closer than stink on shit! Tucking the vial of poison in his pocket again, he stood and snuck off the roof of the store. It was going to be tougher than he thought. Pulling out the walkie talkie from another pocket, he turned it on.
"It will be tougher than we thought, sir." He hissed over.
"Remember this is important. If we get the girl, Winner will suffer!" The hissing voice crackled over. "We were well paid to destroy him! Now, lay in wait until they seperate. I don't care but I want it done soon, even if you have to snatch her from her bed!" With a loud crackle, the other line was shut off. The henchman hung his head.
'Why must I do this to Master Quatre?' He sighed. Looking at the vial in his hand, he growled. 'I will protect him. I must! I will go to Master Quatre when he returns.' Looking around he saw the four other men posted around the bazaar. All because of him! Crouching down again, he sat and watched over then till they were ready to leave.
"Oh Quatre, it's beautiful!" Catherine exclaimed when she held up a light green and gold caftan.
"Even more on you." He leaned foreward and rubbed noses with her.
"You tease." She giggled. His arm pulled her flush against him.
"Hussy." He laughed melodically. He stopped when he saw movement atop the buildings. He froze and pulled Catherine to him hard. She stopped breathing, it was like everyone else faded away and it was just them and people hunting them. Quatre's eyes darted form side to side. The old woman looked at them strangely, Folding the Caftan, she placed it in a bag for purchase. Quatre pulled out several bills and paid the woman. Takign the bag, he held Catherine close. "The rooftops." he whispered in her ear. "Don't let go of me, ok?" He said softly. Nodding, she curled into him and pressed ehr face to his shoulder.
"I'm scared now Quatre." She clung to his arm.
"I'm right here." He soothed her by running a hand down her hair. It flowed like amber waves down her shoulders and back. His eyes narrowed, looking for Trowa in the group around him. He was hiding too well. Cursing under his breath, he gave a sidelong glance at the nervous Catherine. "Where the hell are you Trowa?" He hissed under his breath.
In reality, Trowa was slumped against the wall nearest to the jeep. Ahead of him a man in a desert swathing of clothes mumbled into a walkie talkie. His leather soled boots were noiseless and caught the ex-mercenary unguarded. His dark eyes swept from side to side trying to see if anyone was coming. Taking another look, he crept off, leaving the unconcious Trowa behind.
"Something is wrong." Quatre stated as he turned with Catherine still tucked in to his side. "Trowa would be visible to us now." He almost growled. "I don't know what, but something's wrong." He walked briskly back toward the Jeep.
"Quatre!" Catherine huffed. "Tell me!" His usually warm eyes were now an icy mint color. Piercing into her, he stated.
"I cannot feel him." Catherine paled, she knew the ex-pilot was an empath, and not feeling someone was not a good thing.
"No."She whispered. In shock, she was nearly dragged to the car.
"Trowa!" Catherine bolted from Quatre's side to kneel beside the limp form of her brother. "Trowa! Please be alright!" Crying, she fumbled to find his pulse in his neck, also hsi shallow breathing was a sign that he was only unconcious. Crying still, she hugged his still out cold body to her chest. "Oh Trowa, wake up." Beside her, Quatre nudged her aside and lifted his friend's body. Placing it in the back seat of the still running Jeep, he looked to Catherine still not saying anything. Catherine climbed int he back seat and put Trowa's head on her lap and brushed away his bangs, but a metallic smeel reached her nose, and her fingertips soon became sticky.
"Q..Quatre." She breah whooshed out. With teary eyes, she looked up to Quatre who's breathing had slowed.
"Oh,Allah." Jumping behind the wheel he gunned it toward home. Catherine, seeing no alternative to stop the bleeding, ripped off a good 5 inches up off her dress. Tieing it tightly aroujnd his head, she staunched the flow just a bit. Mumblign apologies and prayer, Catherine pressed kisses to his forehead.
"Please stay with me. Please." She cried. Tears dripped from her cheeks onto Trowa's face.
The Jeep came to a skidding halt in front of the Estate. Quatre nearly ripped the door off and relieved Catherine of Trowa.
"Hasaad!" Quatre yelled in his baritone voice. Several heads popped out from corners of the house like mice, and a tall thin man with impressive arms and a handlebar mustache rushed foreward. "Trowa has been knocked out cold by a knock to the head. He is also bleeding. Shallow breathing and slow heart rate as well. You are a doctor, fix him!" His voice was strained. His eyes had a glassy look to them. With blood smeared fingers and shirt, he turned back to see Catherine still in the car holding her head with both of her hands. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Rounding the car, he went to her door and slid her out. Cradled against him, she still cried but clutched to him like a life line. Murmuring endearments in Arabic, he pressed kisses to her cheeks and temples. Her dress now up about her upper thighs, and stained with blood, the two war victim look alikes, went upstairs.
He ran a bath and undressed them both to their undergarments, modesty was forgotten as the grief stricken pair washed in the large whirlpool tub. With a terry cloth rag in one hand, Quatre washed the blood from her face, the red streaks from her tears still stayed. Kissing the trails, he held her against him as she fell asleep exausted from crying and worry. Rubbing large circles on her back, he laid his forehead against her shoulder as she curled into his chest. Her hot tears bled down his chest as he reassured her that Trowa would be alright.
'For her sake and Relena's, be ok old pal.' Quatre prayed. Leaning back against the inclined back, he fell asleep with Catherine still laying against his chest.
