AN: I don't own Gundam Wing. I wish I did, but I don't. Warnings - violence, harrowing There aren't meant to be any pairings, but if you wish to imagine things in another way, feel free. This chapter is quite short, please enjoy anyway!

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The Tainted Promise

Chapter 1 - Semi-Prologue

"The day is imprinted on my memory forever. I know it's still quite soon after the event, but the memory will haunt me no matter what I do. How could anybody forget such a thing like that? Especially when they're reminded of it every day of their lives?

"The weather was good, as it always is this time of year. I've never liked the idea of pathetic fallacy, but it would have fitted perfectly. The hotel grounds were huge, there were thousands of ways whoever it was could have gained entry. We know it wasn't a hotel guest as the security department are strict on what guests have with them. I suppose it could have been one of the workers there, but I severely doubt it. We'd just come back from a visit to the nearby town, the two of us. It was only short walk from the where the limo had to drop us off to the front door, but it was long enough for whoever to accomplish his task. I...I try to speak of this impartially, but it's difficult - especially when I feel so strongly about it. Anyway, before either of us knew what was going on, it happened.

"Out of nowhere, a bullet sped past, hitting my best friend right in his stomach. He died right there, by the stone sphere of the small rock garden in front of the guest entrance. It wasn't that quick, but he was bleeding very badly and there wasn't anything myself, or anyone could have done. The best we could do...was say our goodbyes. 'Don't leave me, Trowa,' I cried, my tears dripping onto his chest. He looked at me in a way, as if to reprimand me for being naive. I knew there was no way he could stay with us, not like I meant. 'Please...' I repeated, more tears flowing thicker and faster, 'don't leave me, I couldn't go on! Oh, Trowa...' Then, he looked up, right into my eyes and said one thing. 'I promise I'm not going to leave you, Quatre. Goodbye.' I didn't want to have to say goodbye, to admit we were parting, but I had to say goodbye. It stuck in my throat quite a bit, but I managed to choke it out. He then spoke his last words. 'Goodbye is not forever.' Such a noble thing to say. 'Goodbye is not forever.' The last words of Trowa Barton, at four o'clock in the afternoon, on the forecourt of the Maison Grande Hotel. 'Goodbye is not forever.'

"I was deeply saddened. There was no way I could be anyway else. I had lost my best friend, just like that. It was very sudden. My best friend had been taken, had his life cut short. He only lived to be sixteen years old. Just sixteen. I've often asked myself - why him? Why would anyone want him? Why wasn't it me?

"For the next four days, I was still at the hotel. Everyday, at the same time, I visited the place where he passed on. Four o'clock. That deathly hour. But I never expected what waited for me each day.

"As I approached the spot, I was sure that I felt something knock me, on the back. I turned around, and saw nothing. I didn't think anything of it, but then something knocked me to the ground. I'm saying 'something', because no-one was around. I got up with my arm raised to protect my face. Something knocked my arm away, and then something that felt like a boot hit me on the chin. That forced me into a semi-consciousness. Although I could have easily been deceived in that state, I know I'm not mistaken. I felt a presence...his presence. I'm sure it was him - the spirit of Trowa Barton. I don't know why he's doing this but I know it's him.

"Even now I've left the hotel, the presence still haunts me, at the same time each day. Four o'clock. It...beats me into submission, but I don't really fight it. How can I fight the spirit of my best friend? It doesn't last very long, never more than ten minutes - the time it took from when the bullet hit until when his heart finally stopped beating.

"About a week after that, I heard that Relena was going on holiday there. I begged her to forgive me for going at the same time. Although she was quite willing to let me, she tried to her best to dissuade me from going. She told me to forget it - move on with my life. I haven't told her about these attacks. I didn't feel I could speak to anyone about it - this was far too strange to explain anyway. There was no-one I knew who I thought would actually believe me.

"So, I returned to my routine of coming back to the spot at the time. Although I hate these attacks and I desperately want them to stop, I enjoyed this rendezvous with the spirit. I guess in a way, I'd rather feel he hasn't left, no matter what that costs. The place where he died - by the stone sphere - that's the only place that I can feel his presence. Well, I feel the presence every day at that time, but only at that same spot can I feel that it's him. Only once, he spoke to me. The force of one of his blows had managed to knock me out cold. Lying there, in a strange state, he appeared to me. I won't forget what the spectre said, either. That's etched into my memory as deeply as the day of his death is. He told me, 'I knew you couldn't live without me - you're far too defenseless.'

"I have to say, those words hurt from a best friend - especially in the tone of voice they were given. It wasn't the usual way he'd speak to me when he was alive. He wouldn't even phrase it that way when he was here. We'd spent so much time together. I could imagine things that he'd be likely to do. However, I'd never have imagined that. I could imagine him telling me 'Quatre, I think you need to toughen yourself up,' but I can't think of him saying anything like that. At least, not to me. Not to his best friend."

At this point, the blonde boy broke into full blown tears. Not just the small rivers that had trickled their way down his cheeks before, but heavier. The only other person in the room, a woman in her thirties, got up from her armchair and strolled over to the boy. She handed him a tissue from a box on the coffee table, which he took and wiped away the tears with.

"And you say this was only a month ago?" Her voice was compassionate and understanding as she sat back down in the armchair.

"Yes," he looked up at her, placing the half wet tissue onto the coffee table, "one month exactly on this coming Saturday." The Arabian lifted one of the cups of tea from its saucer and sipped from it. He looked at her, begging for her help.

"My dear Master Winner," the woman replied, a slight tone of condemnation in her voice, "I am no private detective. I am a medium, you know that. I do not understand what you feel I can do."

Quatre got up and walked to the large window at the end of the room. "I need to know why he's doing this - why he's hurting his best friend. And...I need this to stop"

She rose and joined him. "I can do little more than contact the spirit world. Then, I shall have to refer you on." She handed a fresh tissue to the boy.

"I thank you, Ms DePlume. You've been kind enough already, to listen to my story." There was a sad melt in his eyes that told the psychic that the boy, whom she hardly knew, really did need her help. She felt thankful that she could do something.

Lowering the volume of her voice, she whispered to him, "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes," came his whispered reply. "Keep this as secret as possible - we're Gundam pilots. I don't know how that could help you, but I feel it's important for you to understand that."

To be continued... --**--**--

AN: Do you like it? Please review, but be gentle, this is my first real fic! Criticism will be accepted, flames extinguished. It may be taking a while to get going, but it heats up later. There will be more soon!

AshLillymon