A/N: I do not own any part of Gundam Wing.
A "*" Indicates thoughts
Rude Awakenings: Chapter Four - ...It Fills Up To My Throat, It Fills Up 'Til My Heart Is Breaking
******************************************************
Quatre shook his head and let his mind go back to the intentional train of thought. He had been thinking about how to re-arrange the guest room of his large house when his mind wandered to what had happened there two summers ago.
*Don't remember. You can't remember...but you can't forget. You must forget!*
His thoughts again wandered to the night of the summer before the last when the phone rang.
"Hello?" Quatre asked, glad his thoughts were interrupted.
"Master Quatre, glad you're back from your buisiness in Cambodia. When did you get in?"
"Ah, yes, Rasheed, I've returned. Just arrived this afternoon."
"Good to hear! Just checking up on you."
"I'm fine, really. I even gave the others the night off--"
"But Master Quatre!! Do you realize how dangerous that is!?"
"It's alright, Rasheed. With you at the watch, I should be fine. Goodnight," Quatre said and hung up the phone.
*Now...how shall I re-arrange this room?*
A yawn escaped his slightly parted lips and he shook his head softly.
*Worry about it tomorrow, Quat...*
He walked down the hall and entered the master bedroom, where he climbed under thick covers and fell into a predictable troubled sleep.
Since that night, two summers ago, he had never had pleasant dreams. The dreams he had, vivid and lucid, were all haunting. Those sad green eyes, looking into his as if asking why. Why, Quatre?? What did I do besides be a good friend?
He remembered that night like it had just happened. It was raining, and his friend was needing shelter for that evening. Once he was settled in the guest room, Quatre went into his own. Then it happened. The cry. The loud, haunting cry of his friend.
"STOP IT!" Quatre cried out in his sleep, yet nobody heard him. If he had let the others stay for the night, chances are high that he would have been waken up. Quatre rolled over in his colorless dream. How could he have done it? Why did he do it?
"NO!" He threw himself out of his bed and onto the velvet-like carpet. He layed there, sweat dripping lightly down his pale flesh.
"Master Quatre!" cried Rasheed, aggressively shaking the sleeping shoulders.
"What??" he asked, in a dazed confusion.
"Were you dreaming about it again, Master? What had happened two years ago? I bet you were. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't stop it. Now come on, get up, let's get you some tea."
*Why did I do it? Why?? He was such a good friend...*
"Here now, have some tea, and calm down. You didn't do anything wrong. You couldn't stop what happened. At least you had the decency to wait at the hospital those three days..."
"I know, Rasheed, but I still feel really bad about what happened to him..."
"What was his name again...?"
"Heero," Quatre muttered, a crystal tear dripping down his cheek.
"Right. Heero. Well, it's not your fault about what happened, so stop torturing yourself with it!"
"You don't understand...I saw his face. The look in his eyes. You've never killed one of your best friends, Rasheed! You wouldn't understand!"
And with that, Quatre ran down the hall and locked himself in a bathroom, curling up in the bathtub.
*Why did you do it, Quatre? You guys were such good friends...you hadn't seen him in so long...*
Quatre then fell into a deep, dreamless slumber, and was found there the next morning, when Rasheed had successfully got the door off of the hinges.
"Let's get you back to your room," he said calmly to a sleepy Quatre, and layed him on his bed without waking him. "I wish you would stop thinking about that...it really wasn't your fault..."
Quatre lightly rolled over onto his right side, shivering lightly. Rasheed put thick blankets over him and waited until the shivering emaciated.
"I hope you feel better when you wake," he whispered, and walked out of the room, shaking his head in disbelief that Quatre had still been blaming himself for that stormy evening.
A "*" Indicates thoughts
Rude Awakenings: Chapter Four - ...It Fills Up To My Throat, It Fills Up 'Til My Heart Is Breaking
******************************************************
Quatre shook his head and let his mind go back to the intentional train of thought. He had been thinking about how to re-arrange the guest room of his large house when his mind wandered to what had happened there two summers ago.
*Don't remember. You can't remember...but you can't forget. You must forget!*
His thoughts again wandered to the night of the summer before the last when the phone rang.
"Hello?" Quatre asked, glad his thoughts were interrupted.
"Master Quatre, glad you're back from your buisiness in Cambodia. When did you get in?"
"Ah, yes, Rasheed, I've returned. Just arrived this afternoon."
"Good to hear! Just checking up on you."
"I'm fine, really. I even gave the others the night off--"
"But Master Quatre!! Do you realize how dangerous that is!?"
"It's alright, Rasheed. With you at the watch, I should be fine. Goodnight," Quatre said and hung up the phone.
*Now...how shall I re-arrange this room?*
A yawn escaped his slightly parted lips and he shook his head softly.
*Worry about it tomorrow, Quat...*
He walked down the hall and entered the master bedroom, where he climbed under thick covers and fell into a predictable troubled sleep.
Since that night, two summers ago, he had never had pleasant dreams. The dreams he had, vivid and lucid, were all haunting. Those sad green eyes, looking into his as if asking why. Why, Quatre?? What did I do besides be a good friend?
He remembered that night like it had just happened. It was raining, and his friend was needing shelter for that evening. Once he was settled in the guest room, Quatre went into his own. Then it happened. The cry. The loud, haunting cry of his friend.
"STOP IT!" Quatre cried out in his sleep, yet nobody heard him. If he had let the others stay for the night, chances are high that he would have been waken up. Quatre rolled over in his colorless dream. How could he have done it? Why did he do it?
"NO!" He threw himself out of his bed and onto the velvet-like carpet. He layed there, sweat dripping lightly down his pale flesh.
"Master Quatre!" cried Rasheed, aggressively shaking the sleeping shoulders.
"What??" he asked, in a dazed confusion.
"Were you dreaming about it again, Master? What had happened two years ago? I bet you were. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't stop it. Now come on, get up, let's get you some tea."
*Why did I do it? Why?? He was such a good friend...*
"Here now, have some tea, and calm down. You didn't do anything wrong. You couldn't stop what happened. At least you had the decency to wait at the hospital those three days..."
"I know, Rasheed, but I still feel really bad about what happened to him..."
"What was his name again...?"
"Heero," Quatre muttered, a crystal tear dripping down his cheek.
"Right. Heero. Well, it's not your fault about what happened, so stop torturing yourself with it!"
"You don't understand...I saw his face. The look in his eyes. You've never killed one of your best friends, Rasheed! You wouldn't understand!"
And with that, Quatre ran down the hall and locked himself in a bathroom, curling up in the bathtub.
*Why did you do it, Quatre? You guys were such good friends...you hadn't seen him in so long...*
Quatre then fell into a deep, dreamless slumber, and was found there the next morning, when Rasheed had successfully got the door off of the hinges.
"Let's get you back to your room," he said calmly to a sleepy Quatre, and layed him on his bed without waking him. "I wish you would stop thinking about that...it really wasn't your fault..."
Quatre lightly rolled over onto his right side, shivering lightly. Rasheed put thick blankets over him and waited until the shivering emaciated.
"I hope you feel better when you wake," he whispered, and walked out of the room, shaking his head in disbelief that Quatre had still been blaming himself for that stormy evening.