Disclaimer: Gundam Wing still doesn't belong to me.
A Fish Out of Water- Chapter Ten
A piercing scream bounced off the thick walls of the cave, nearly shattering Trowa's eardrums. Dorothy's face was white, her mouth hanging open in disbelief, while Quatre just seemed surprised that there was a piece of steel lodged in his skin. It was the sorceress, not her victim, who had screamed.
"I-I…" Dorothy stuttered, pretty sure that simply apologizing wouldn't be very helpful. She seemed horrified by what she had done, and it occurred to Trowa that Quatre had been right all along.
"This is why you shouldn't play with sharp objects," Quatre said mildly, though he was grimacing from the pain as he pulled the metal out of his side carefully. Blood streamed from the wound, staining his shirt (though that was the least of his problems) but no vital organs seemed to be coming out, fortunately. His legs gave way and Trowa hurried over to provide him with support.
"We need to stop the bleeding," the merman said, his mind strangely clear in the face of this disaster. He wasn't sure what was different, but perhaps the medical knowledge he'd gained from hanging around Sally helped. "Do you have any bandages, or rags?"
Dorothy shook her head numbly. "No, I don't." she fell to her knees in despair. "I'm so sorry," she wailed, her voice filled with the emotion you couldn't see on her face.
"Whining isn't going to help him any," Trowa said sternly. He scanned the room, looking for something, anything that would work, and his eyes fell on Dorothy again. "Think you can rip the bottom of that off?" he asked.
"What-" Dorothy looked down to see what he was pointing at and immediately tore into the fabric of her shirt, creating a long strip while leaving enough to cover herself (not that she would've minded really if it didn't). She handed it to Trowa, who pressed it to the wound gently.
Quatre whimpered slightly, but didn't move, a good patient if there was any. Despite this, the compress did no good, except to break the separate the flood into occasional spurts.
"It's too deep!" Trowa bit his lip, his emerald eyes filled with worry. "It needs stitches, or something to close it up."
"I don't have anything!" Dorothy cried in frustration, wringing her hands. "If I were at home, I could make a potion to heal him, but- Wait!" A thought suddenly occurred to her.
"What? What?" Trowa demanded. Quatre gripped his hand tightly, nearly cutting off his circulation. "Tell us!"
"The potion I gave you for Heero," she said, speaking about some person Trowa didn't know, though he could've sworn that he had heard, or seen the name somewhere. "It would help you." Her face fell. "But he can't get there in this condition."
Trowa looked at her sharply. "Not alone he can't. But I can bring him. Where do I find this person?"
"Not more than a mile away, along the coast," Quatre spoke up, his voice weak. "We were headed there anyway. Pr-" His voice trailed off, and he tipped forward again. Trowa put his hands on his chest to catch him and prevent him from injuring himself further. He didn't press Quatre to continue what he was about to say. He cradled the young man in his arms; careful to keep him above the water so no salt got into the wound.
"Open this cave," he commanded, and Dorothy rushed to do his bidding. He could hear her mutter a word in that same strange language she had spoken before when she was casting a spell, and then an "Uh-oh!"
"What do you mean, 'uh-oh'?" Dorothy came back to them, the color that had started to come back into her face gone again.
"We have a slight problem," she said meekly, quite unlike the powerful sorceress she had been only a few minutes before.
He glared at her. "What problem?" If Trowa had time to think about it, he had probably never said so many words, much less in that tone, ever in his life. Though adversity had made a helpless man of him before, it was making a prince of him now.
"You see, the backlash from the storm system that I summoned-" she began, while Trowa (and Quatre, who had just roused again) blinked at her. "Well," she started again, speaking in layman's terms this time; "it's a disaster out there. Blizzards, whirlpools, tidal waves, you name it, we've got it. I believe I was a bit hasty when I called that storm, I forgot to make sure something worse wouldn't follow it. You can't go out in that."
If she were his child, Trowa might've slapped her at that moment, but as it was he had his hands full. "We don't really have much of a choice, now do we?" he pushed past her and the cold air blasted in their faces. "We're leaving."
"But you can't-" she started to protest, but the look on his face shut her up quickly.
"Trowa," Quatre croaked his name, his eyes half closed. "Don't leave Dorothy all alone here. It's not safe."
The merman frowned and looked from him to Dorothy. "She can take care of herself," he said firmly, quite decided on the matter.
She nodded. "I'll be all right, Quatre," she said softly. "What's important is that you get well. Take care of him," she told Trowa. Her eyes were moist, but no tears leaked out.
"How sad," Trowa said, almost to himself. "You don't know how to cry, do you?" He started to leave, but then turned back. "I hope you learn, someday." The words seemed harsh, but there was no malice in them, in spite of everything they'd been through, in spite of everything she'd done. She nodded again, and seemingly satisfied, they left her to go out into the cold.
* * * * * *
The water was rougher than he'd ever seen it before. It tossed him about, slamming him into the brick waves like he was hitting a brick wall. He huddled the once again unconscious Quatre to his chest, taking in most of the blows himself. One arm was around the youth's legs, the other around his waist so that his hand was clasped on the wound. The birdman shivered in his sleep restlessly, and Trowa feared he was delirious; but it was only a reaction to the bitter cold. Though their home was far from tropical, it wasn't usually arctic either. Trowa wished he could have brought the both of them underwater, where they would have been warmer and somewhat protected from the monster Dorothy had accidentally created. A block of ice bobbed up and down in the water, coming towards them, but Trowa couldn't see it. The snow blinded him, and in his peripheral vision he could see a whirlpool threatening to pull them in. He didn't notice the ice until it smashed into the side of his head and he was knocked into unconsciousness, feeling the tug of the water sucking him in.
To be continued…
