[sniff sniff] I'm such a horrible authoress! I haven't been updating! And
I'm taking my sweet time developing the story! [sniff sniff] I'm horrible-
and I would be so mad at me if I were reviewing my own freakin' story .
Okay- enough complaining- replies!:
SMILY: So many things to say, ne? [chuckles] Alright- I switched the thoughts to be like... "/blah blah blah.../" that- so it can be a little easier to see... and you think Trowa's amnesia is a sinister plan to get Quatre to confess all? [giggles] I guess you'll just have to read to find out ((and no- this chapter doesn't answer any of your questions yet!))
JENIHENPEN: Lol- I understand your dislike of new Trowa-kun... I'm a little disappointed myself [looks around for old Trowa and his sexy ass] grr.... WHERE ARE YOU?! But hmph... healing stuff? Well- there's still plenty of time for that ^_~. I'll try and slide in some of that in later chapters, k? Maybe Quatre almost drowns or something... should be interesting!
RYOUBAKURAFAN013: [sigh] Gomen nasai, ryoubakurafan... I would have told Trowa's past to my hearts content- but then again- considering HE doesn't even know, I had to slip and slide away from trying to say it... besides- I don't have the Episode Zero issue of Trowa's past so that sorta sucks... All I know is that he used to be in a war before and that's about it. Oh- and something about him being from South America? No- I think that was just a rumor... yeah- that rumor went with people's thoughts that maybe he was raped a lot when he was younger. [nod nod] that would probably explain his functional retrograde amnesia (([ish so smart] hehehe- j/k! I just pick up things from my psychology class ^_~.)) And will Trowa-kun get his memory back...? Well- you'll just have to keep reading to find out!
NIMUWAYY: It's alright to cry [pats on back] it's all good!
GENERAL: Um... I went sorta blind on this chapter- it just sorta came. I really don't have any fondness for it... Oh well, though! Read and review! Oh- and yeah- I'm not claiming ownership for anything- the initial idea for the story line wasn't even mine! ((it was a suggestion and... stuff!))
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
/..../: thoughts
Tell Me This: Imprints in the Sand
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hello- hello- Rashid?" Quatre spoke into the headset he wore, trying to at least communicate with the team he'd abandoned on the last battlefield.
"Ma- er, Qu- e" Rashid's voice was breaking up and the young Arabian couldn't take it anymore. He'd been trying to fix the communication system on Sandrock for over four hours and had made little progress besides making static and the broken contact with the Magwanats. Biting his bottom lip thoughtfully, the young man couldn't think of why it wasn't working... Maybe he'd been underwater for too long- water may have seeped inside the electronic panels for the communication links? No... he tried not to dwell on that considering it would take him at least another day for repairs- on just THAT.
Sighing lightly, he pulled off the headset, laying it between his legs. The young man was sitting on the open cockpit hatch, one leg dangling over the edge, he other balancing his slender figure in an upright position. Quatre's mind was somewhat blank and had little thought of what to do. Heavyarms was completely ruined- Sandrock was still seeping of ocean water. He should have known better than submerge a desert based Gundam- in an OCEAN. All he could do at the moment was curse himself.
"Any luck?" A voice called from beneath him- Trowa was standing there with hands in his pockets, looking up at the blond; Quatre shook his head no.
"I don't know even where we are right now- all I know is that we're somewhere on the west coast of North America." His light eyes turned to the crystal colored sky- light seeping down onto the two in warm rays.
"Oh." Trowa said softly, looking out at the ocean and the foam that slid up the beach as a guide. "We really need help to get out of here?"
"Hai." Quatre spoke more to himself than anything else. "But we can leave in at least a week if I work hard enough. It's my fault I virtually drowned Sandrock..." He signed once again, eyes turning back to the figure now starring up at him.
"At least we get to spend more time with each other." Trowa smiled lightly; Quatre's heart seemed to jerk to a stop. The smile was beautiful- the words were honey sweet- but it was still odd to him... He didn't want to stop this new Trowa from acting kind and open towards him, but at the same time he missed the retracted and purely inward young man.
~*~*~
Letting the cold ocean water run through his toes was soothing as the young man followed the coast slowly. Quatre's pants were rolled up nearly to his knees and he carried his shoes and socks in one hand as he starred at the foam rushing past his feet. The ebb and flow was much more calming than the Arabian had expected.
He had given up- at least for then. His worst fears concerning repairs had come true and no one knew where they were. The thought wasn't comforting considering Trowa's state; he could have used the extra help. Sighing- he looked up- barely starting to notice the outline of the young man in his mind. The Heavyarms pilot was sitting in the sand- it looked like he was writing there with his fingers- deep in thought.
/He's so different.../ Quatre stopped; the young man hadn't noticed the Arabian's presence. /But he's so confused.../ Trowa sighed, looking out at the waves that brought cold ocean water to his toes. Taking the initiative, Quatre took a step forward but Trowa noticed the company instantly.
"Oh- hi, Quatre." He spoke softly, smiling at the other teenager. His gaze was instantly averted as he looked back at what he'd written.
"What are you doing?" The blond tried to speak in a cheerful tone- even if it didn't rub off onto the other young man, he could at least try the tactic on himself. Crouching down next to him, the Arabian looked at the area between Trowa's legs where he'd been writing- his name was there- first and last.
/Wow- he wrote his.../
"That's my name right?" He asked softly, index finger tracing the imprint into the wet dark grey and brown sand.
"Yes."
"Will you tell me now- about me?" Quatre's gaze slowly shifted up to the figure sitting on the ground; the young man had a serene face which the blond couldn't deny. He nodded slowly, eyes going back to the imprints in the sand. His mind passed over the many ways he could start- and settling on one, the Arabian knew that his words would probably be concentrated on. They were the new Trowa's LIFE LINE.
"Even with your old memory, you all ready had amnesia..." He paused, sitting in the sand next to him. "I think it was called functional retrograde amnesia- something along those lines... You couldn't remember your childhood at all. No one knows for sure where you came from- and you really hadn't tried to find out either." The entire time Quatre spoke, his voice never wavered; he spoke of everything he knew about Trowa. How he got his name and the unfortunate death behind it, about their first meeting, about the mission against OZ.
Trowa listened intently, eyes starring down at the figures in the sand that were slowly being erased by the rising tides. He was silent when Quatre finished as well; for some reason he knew there was something missing. The blond sighed as the other male stood up, facing the sun that had begun it's descent on the horizon.
The narration had been going on for at least three hours and Quatre still felt that it could never be finished... he spoke nothing of the emotions or the relationship they had together. The truth was that he was scarred and seeing as how he had to be strong during a time of distress- it probably wouldn't be in either of their best interest to have emotions play a key.
"Arigatou..." Trowa smiled lightly as his gaze found the smaller male's eyes. "I- I at least know a little more, huh?" He chuckled. "Sounds like I'm much better off than my 'other self'." Quatre returned the small smile- but he couldn't deny the fact that he'd seen pain in the other's eyes. Trowa looked back at the horizon, his face resembling the mask Quatre had seen so many times before. There was something much more than memory loss troubling Trowa and the young blond wasn't about to ask what.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Yeah- drop me a line ^_~. No update until I get at least 25!
And before I forget- yes- Trowa is getting a little depressed... [sniffle] poor guy!
SMILY: So many things to say, ne? [chuckles] Alright- I switched the thoughts to be like... "/blah blah blah.../" that- so it can be a little easier to see... and you think Trowa's amnesia is a sinister plan to get Quatre to confess all? [giggles] I guess you'll just have to read to find out ((and no- this chapter doesn't answer any of your questions yet!))
JENIHENPEN: Lol- I understand your dislike of new Trowa-kun... I'm a little disappointed myself [looks around for old Trowa and his sexy ass] grr.... WHERE ARE YOU?! But hmph... healing stuff? Well- there's still plenty of time for that ^_~. I'll try and slide in some of that in later chapters, k? Maybe Quatre almost drowns or something... should be interesting!
RYOUBAKURAFAN013: [sigh] Gomen nasai, ryoubakurafan... I would have told Trowa's past to my hearts content- but then again- considering HE doesn't even know, I had to slip and slide away from trying to say it... besides- I don't have the Episode Zero issue of Trowa's past so that sorta sucks... All I know is that he used to be in a war before and that's about it. Oh- and something about him being from South America? No- I think that was just a rumor... yeah- that rumor went with people's thoughts that maybe he was raped a lot when he was younger. [nod nod] that would probably explain his functional retrograde amnesia (([ish so smart] hehehe- j/k! I just pick up things from my psychology class ^_~.)) And will Trowa-kun get his memory back...? Well- you'll just have to keep reading to find out!
NIMUWAYY: It's alright to cry [pats on back] it's all good!
GENERAL: Um... I went sorta blind on this chapter- it just sorta came. I really don't have any fondness for it... Oh well, though! Read and review! Oh- and yeah- I'm not claiming ownership for anything- the initial idea for the story line wasn't even mine! ((it was a suggestion and... stuff!))
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
/..../: thoughts
Tell Me This: Imprints in the Sand
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hello- hello- Rashid?" Quatre spoke into the headset he wore, trying to at least communicate with the team he'd abandoned on the last battlefield.
"Ma- er, Qu- e" Rashid's voice was breaking up and the young Arabian couldn't take it anymore. He'd been trying to fix the communication system on Sandrock for over four hours and had made little progress besides making static and the broken contact with the Magwanats. Biting his bottom lip thoughtfully, the young man couldn't think of why it wasn't working... Maybe he'd been underwater for too long- water may have seeped inside the electronic panels for the communication links? No... he tried not to dwell on that considering it would take him at least another day for repairs- on just THAT.
Sighing lightly, he pulled off the headset, laying it between his legs. The young man was sitting on the open cockpit hatch, one leg dangling over the edge, he other balancing his slender figure in an upright position. Quatre's mind was somewhat blank and had little thought of what to do. Heavyarms was completely ruined- Sandrock was still seeping of ocean water. He should have known better than submerge a desert based Gundam- in an OCEAN. All he could do at the moment was curse himself.
"Any luck?" A voice called from beneath him- Trowa was standing there with hands in his pockets, looking up at the blond; Quatre shook his head no.
"I don't know even where we are right now- all I know is that we're somewhere on the west coast of North America." His light eyes turned to the crystal colored sky- light seeping down onto the two in warm rays.
"Oh." Trowa said softly, looking out at the ocean and the foam that slid up the beach as a guide. "We really need help to get out of here?"
"Hai." Quatre spoke more to himself than anything else. "But we can leave in at least a week if I work hard enough. It's my fault I virtually drowned Sandrock..." He signed once again, eyes turning back to the figure now starring up at him.
"At least we get to spend more time with each other." Trowa smiled lightly; Quatre's heart seemed to jerk to a stop. The smile was beautiful- the words were honey sweet- but it was still odd to him... He didn't want to stop this new Trowa from acting kind and open towards him, but at the same time he missed the retracted and purely inward young man.
~*~*~
Letting the cold ocean water run through his toes was soothing as the young man followed the coast slowly. Quatre's pants were rolled up nearly to his knees and he carried his shoes and socks in one hand as he starred at the foam rushing past his feet. The ebb and flow was much more calming than the Arabian had expected.
He had given up- at least for then. His worst fears concerning repairs had come true and no one knew where they were. The thought wasn't comforting considering Trowa's state; he could have used the extra help. Sighing- he looked up- barely starting to notice the outline of the young man in his mind. The Heavyarms pilot was sitting in the sand- it looked like he was writing there with his fingers- deep in thought.
/He's so different.../ Quatre stopped; the young man hadn't noticed the Arabian's presence. /But he's so confused.../ Trowa sighed, looking out at the waves that brought cold ocean water to his toes. Taking the initiative, Quatre took a step forward but Trowa noticed the company instantly.
"Oh- hi, Quatre." He spoke softly, smiling at the other teenager. His gaze was instantly averted as he looked back at what he'd written.
"What are you doing?" The blond tried to speak in a cheerful tone- even if it didn't rub off onto the other young man, he could at least try the tactic on himself. Crouching down next to him, the Arabian looked at the area between Trowa's legs where he'd been writing- his name was there- first and last.
/Wow- he wrote his.../
"That's my name right?" He asked softly, index finger tracing the imprint into the wet dark grey and brown sand.
"Yes."
"Will you tell me now- about me?" Quatre's gaze slowly shifted up to the figure sitting on the ground; the young man had a serene face which the blond couldn't deny. He nodded slowly, eyes going back to the imprints in the sand. His mind passed over the many ways he could start- and settling on one, the Arabian knew that his words would probably be concentrated on. They were the new Trowa's LIFE LINE.
"Even with your old memory, you all ready had amnesia..." He paused, sitting in the sand next to him. "I think it was called functional retrograde amnesia- something along those lines... You couldn't remember your childhood at all. No one knows for sure where you came from- and you really hadn't tried to find out either." The entire time Quatre spoke, his voice never wavered; he spoke of everything he knew about Trowa. How he got his name and the unfortunate death behind it, about their first meeting, about the mission against OZ.
Trowa listened intently, eyes starring down at the figures in the sand that were slowly being erased by the rising tides. He was silent when Quatre finished as well; for some reason he knew there was something missing. The blond sighed as the other male stood up, facing the sun that had begun it's descent on the horizon.
The narration had been going on for at least three hours and Quatre still felt that it could never be finished... he spoke nothing of the emotions or the relationship they had together. The truth was that he was scarred and seeing as how he had to be strong during a time of distress- it probably wouldn't be in either of their best interest to have emotions play a key.
"Arigatou..." Trowa smiled lightly as his gaze found the smaller male's eyes. "I- I at least know a little more, huh?" He chuckled. "Sounds like I'm much better off than my 'other self'." Quatre returned the small smile- but he couldn't deny the fact that he'd seen pain in the other's eyes. Trowa looked back at the horizon, his face resembling the mask Quatre had seen so many times before. There was something much more than memory loss troubling Trowa and the young blond wasn't about to ask what.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Yeah- drop me a line ^_~. No update until I get at least 25!
And before I forget- yes- Trowa is getting a little depressed... [sniffle] poor guy!