You guys are absolutely amazing. I certainly didn't expect this kind of reception with this fic. I'm sooooo happy you like it! And I want to apologize to everyone who so badly wanted it to be Heero. I must admit, he's my fave (right next to Quatre), and it was really hard to not make this H/U, but I wanted to do something different. And you have to admit, this is pretty different! Anyway, here's the next chapter. Read on and enjoy!
Oh! If anyone wants to join my fic update list, here's the addy:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/GrapeFics/
"This had better be damn good," Quatre growled as he threw open the door to the
office in the Preventers headquarters that he frequently inhabited. Normally he was one
to accept his duties wholeheartedly and perform them as best he could. But today, he
really wasn't in that kind of mood.
At the harsh words coming out of the uncharacteristically pissed off blonde, the
other occupants of the room could only stare in shock at their friend and comrade.
Since when did Quatre treat work as a burden?
"Whoa, Quatre, what's wrong?" asked Duo Maxwell, his indigo eyes flashing with
concern and the tiniest spark of fear. It took a lot for the man to get freaked out, but
the tone of Quatre's voice had sent a chill down his spine.
Taking a seat beside the braided man, Quatre's eyes fell upon each of his friends.
Duo Maxwell. Chang Wufei. Trowa Barton. Hiiro Yui. Seeing the worry on their faces,
his expression immediately softened some. This wasn't a social call; it was business,
which meant that he had to put his feelings on hold for the moment. But he was still
slightly irritated.
"Sorry for the outburst," he apologized, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. He
contemplated whether or not to tell them his reasons for not wanting to answer his
page, but it was really none of their business. At least, not at the moment. "What's
the emergency?"
He was met by four grim faces and silence, as each one exchanged glances with
his neighbor, debating who was to give Quatre the news.
Finally Hiiro decided to speak up, since no one else was going to crack. "Relena's
been kidnapped," he supplied bluntly, left eye twitching slightly.
"What?" Quatre gasped out in disbelief. They had taken the utmost precaution to
keep the vice foreign minister out of harm's way. And somehow someone had gotten
through their security? How could anyone outsmart a group of ex-Gundam pilots?
"What happened?"
"We're still unsure of all the details," Trowa spoke up in that quiet voice of his.
Years after meeting the others, he was still as soft-spoken as ever, but at least he
voiced his opinions more often. "We may have a possible lead as to where she was
taken. Noin booked our plane. We fly out this morning."
"Which means we need to go pack our bags," Wufei added, pushing his chair back
and standing. "We'll meet back here in one hour."
Nodding mutely, Quatre followed the others out of the room. The ride back to the
hotel seemed like it took forever, but it was possibly due to the fact that he had sped
like a Hell's Angel to the meeting and was now calmed down enough to at least drive at
a semi-normal speed. He really wasn't looking forward to this mission.
It wasn't that he was against Relena; no, that was far from it. Over the years, he
had grown to deeply respect the pacifist princess of the Cinq Kingdom. She had
proven more than capable of keeping the idea of peace a reality, and she had
befriended all five of the ex-Gundam pilots, a feat that would be impossible to other
people. And now she had gotten kidnapped? The last time she had gotten kidnapped,
war broke loose over the Earth and the colonies. Quatre hoped with all of his might
that this would not be a repeat of those events.
Reaching his room, Quatre hesitated slightly before pushing the door open. His
shoulders slumped in disappointment. A little part of him thought that Usagi might
have still been there, but that was not the case.
Sighing, he walked over to the tiny closet and pulled out a suitcase, setting it on
the bed and unzipping it. Going back over to the closet, he began to absently toss all
of his garments into the suitcase, not to be bothered with actually folding them. He
unplugged his laptop and placed it in a leather satchel, setting it next to the now zipped
-up suitcase. Well, that certainly didn't take an hour. What was he going to do to pass
the time?
Quatre could have slapped himself. Call Usagi! He did, after all, promise he would
call her tonight. But she needed to know that he would be out of town for a while. He
practically jumped over the bed and over to the nightstand in his eagerness to hear her
voice again. What awaited him, however, made his heart stop.
There, on the nightstand, was the notepad and pen, in the exact same spot he had
left them earlier. The top page was blank. Grabbing the notepad, he frantically began
flipping through the pages for her number, thinking she might have written it on another
page. As he reached the last sheet of paper, his fingers could barely hold the tiny
notepad. He slowly sank onto the bed, the notepad slipping from his fingers and falling
to the carpet with a slight whisper of pages.
She didn't leave her number.
Not once did it even cross his mind that she wouldn't leave her number. They had
connected on every level, physically, mentally, emotionally. Of that he was sure. So
what if they had known each other for less than twenty-four hours? That didn't matter.
She had mesmerized him with her beauty and her sweetness, and now she was gone.
Did it mean more to him than it did to her? Was she only pretending when she
wanted him to stay?
That thought pierced his heart as his eyes glazed over in pain. He had never been
so open with anyone, and look at where it got him. He was so naive! How could he
have been so stupid to believe that last night had actually meant something, that he
had found his soulmate?
Frowning in self-disgust and growing anger, Quatre grabbed his suitcase and
satchel and hastily left the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.
He wasn't there to see the small gust of air from the door blow a sheet of paper out
from under the nightstand that it had fallen beneath.
::Peeks out from inside the closet:: Is the coast clear? ::Ducks back in as an onslaught of debris is launched:: Wahhhh!! Plight of the author! I know, I know, the end was a bit.... _________ (fill in word here). I apologize! If you're angry, tell me! Write me! I want to know what you think. Your reviews keep me motivated. Thanks! I love you guys!
Oh! If anyone wants to join my fic update list, here's the addy:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/GrapeFics/
"This had better be damn good," Quatre growled as he threw open the door to the
office in the Preventers headquarters that he frequently inhabited. Normally he was one
to accept his duties wholeheartedly and perform them as best he could. But today, he
really wasn't in that kind of mood.
At the harsh words coming out of the uncharacteristically pissed off blonde, the
other occupants of the room could only stare in shock at their friend and comrade.
Since when did Quatre treat work as a burden?
"Whoa, Quatre, what's wrong?" asked Duo Maxwell, his indigo eyes flashing with
concern and the tiniest spark of fear. It took a lot for the man to get freaked out, but
the tone of Quatre's voice had sent a chill down his spine.
Taking a seat beside the braided man, Quatre's eyes fell upon each of his friends.
Duo Maxwell. Chang Wufei. Trowa Barton. Hiiro Yui. Seeing the worry on their faces,
his expression immediately softened some. This wasn't a social call; it was business,
which meant that he had to put his feelings on hold for the moment. But he was still
slightly irritated.
"Sorry for the outburst," he apologized, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. He
contemplated whether or not to tell them his reasons for not wanting to answer his
page, but it was really none of their business. At least, not at the moment. "What's
the emergency?"
He was met by four grim faces and silence, as each one exchanged glances with
his neighbor, debating who was to give Quatre the news.
Finally Hiiro decided to speak up, since no one else was going to crack. "Relena's
been kidnapped," he supplied bluntly, left eye twitching slightly.
"What?" Quatre gasped out in disbelief. They had taken the utmost precaution to
keep the vice foreign minister out of harm's way. And somehow someone had gotten
through their security? How could anyone outsmart a group of ex-Gundam pilots?
"What happened?"
"We're still unsure of all the details," Trowa spoke up in that quiet voice of his.
Years after meeting the others, he was still as soft-spoken as ever, but at least he
voiced his opinions more often. "We may have a possible lead as to where she was
taken. Noin booked our plane. We fly out this morning."
"Which means we need to go pack our bags," Wufei added, pushing his chair back
and standing. "We'll meet back here in one hour."
Nodding mutely, Quatre followed the others out of the room. The ride back to the
hotel seemed like it took forever, but it was possibly due to the fact that he had sped
like a Hell's Angel to the meeting and was now calmed down enough to at least drive at
a semi-normal speed. He really wasn't looking forward to this mission.
It wasn't that he was against Relena; no, that was far from it. Over the years, he
had grown to deeply respect the pacifist princess of the Cinq Kingdom. She had
proven more than capable of keeping the idea of peace a reality, and she had
befriended all five of the ex-Gundam pilots, a feat that would be impossible to other
people. And now she had gotten kidnapped? The last time she had gotten kidnapped,
war broke loose over the Earth and the colonies. Quatre hoped with all of his might
that this would not be a repeat of those events.
Reaching his room, Quatre hesitated slightly before pushing the door open. His
shoulders slumped in disappointment. A little part of him thought that Usagi might
have still been there, but that was not the case.
Sighing, he walked over to the tiny closet and pulled out a suitcase, setting it on
the bed and unzipping it. Going back over to the closet, he began to absently toss all
of his garments into the suitcase, not to be bothered with actually folding them. He
unplugged his laptop and placed it in a leather satchel, setting it next to the now zipped
-up suitcase. Well, that certainly didn't take an hour. What was he going to do to pass
the time?
Quatre could have slapped himself. Call Usagi! He did, after all, promise he would
call her tonight. But she needed to know that he would be out of town for a while. He
practically jumped over the bed and over to the nightstand in his eagerness to hear her
voice again. What awaited him, however, made his heart stop.
There, on the nightstand, was the notepad and pen, in the exact same spot he had
left them earlier. The top page was blank. Grabbing the notepad, he frantically began
flipping through the pages for her number, thinking she might have written it on another
page. As he reached the last sheet of paper, his fingers could barely hold the tiny
notepad. He slowly sank onto the bed, the notepad slipping from his fingers and falling
to the carpet with a slight whisper of pages.
She didn't leave her number.
Not once did it even cross his mind that she wouldn't leave her number. They had
connected on every level, physically, mentally, emotionally. Of that he was sure. So
what if they had known each other for less than twenty-four hours? That didn't matter.
She had mesmerized him with her beauty and her sweetness, and now she was gone.
Did it mean more to him than it did to her? Was she only pretending when she
wanted him to stay?
That thought pierced his heart as his eyes glazed over in pain. He had never been
so open with anyone, and look at where it got him. He was so naive! How could he
have been so stupid to believe that last night had actually meant something, that he
had found his soulmate?
Frowning in self-disgust and growing anger, Quatre grabbed his suitcase and
satchel and hastily left the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.
He wasn't there to see the small gust of air from the door blow a sheet of paper out
from under the nightstand that it had fallen beneath.
::Peeks out from inside the closet:: Is the coast clear? ::Ducks back in as an onslaught of debris is launched:: Wahhhh!! Plight of the author! I know, I know, the end was a bit.... _________ (fill in word here). I apologize! If you're angry, tell me! Write me! I want to know what you think. Your reviews keep me motivated. Thanks! I love you guys!