Chapter 2… I spent a long time considering the wording of this chapter. And due to my speedy recovery from illness (many thanks to Lionheart for their condolences regarding my malady) and also the Rugby finals, I have had less time to write. Anyhaps, I have completed it, so here it is, after my gratitude to Lionheart, Weissangel24 and Elmo for their reviews –thank you- and the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing and am too sleepy to think of anything more creative to type.

Beneath the spreading boughs of an aged willow, in a serene and secluded garden, Quatre sat in quiet contemplation, his delicate features a mask of unhappiness. Wrestling with his emotions he wondered how he had come to this; he had never experienced such feelings before. He had changed, it occurred to him. Since he had met Duo, half a decade before, he had begun to succumb to emotions he had never known existed. And to confess all this to another of the Angels would be almost blasphemous; that he was consorting with a creature from Hell, that he had feelings for this being, was unthinkable.

'You should not be woeful in a place of such beauty' a familiar voice remarked. Quatre glanced up at the approaching figure, a spirit, fully corporeal in this world of apparitions, whom he had become quite close to, seeking guidance from him in all manner of matters.

Dressed in the gold-brocaded finery of his time, the spirit seated himself beside the Angel on an ornate, white marble bench of his own design. Though he knew he would suffer no grass-stains in this place, his lingering mortal instincts recoiled at the thought of risking his fine attire.

Quatre was not at all surprised at being elevated from the ground by the sudden change in scenery. The garden would alter in accordance to the desires of any within it, and he was aware of his friend's patrician-like sensibilities.

'Ever the aristocrat,' he remarked genially, grateful for the comforting hand on his shoulder. The spirit smiled wryly, not countering the observation, as he waited for Quatre to disclose his worries. Oh, Treize,' the other began hopelessly, 'What am I to do? I know that my friendship with Duo is unacceptable by heavenly standards, that it would be believed that I was in his thrall; perhaps I am. I do not understand what I am feeling. All of this is new to me.'

Treize waited patiently for Quatre to finish, his compassion for the Angel growing as he recognised his friend's predicament. Placing his arm fully about the Angel's shoulders, he held his gaze empathetically as he tried to explain.

'You are experiencing doubt, my friend, doubt in yourself and in all you have been taught of good and evil. You are an Angel, a messenger of God, and all you have ever known is God and your absolute love and worship of Him. It is unusual for one of your kind to feel anything else; a sad thing, really.

'Do not attempt to suppress your emotions, however, Quatre; they are a valuable part of you, the part that allows you to be my friend, and, unquestionably, the reason your devil loves you so.' Treize considered the implications of this. He knew the likely fate of his friend should he continue along his present course, but he knew also of the torment the gentle blonde would experience should he try to deny the passions already so strong within him. 'Spend a day amongst the mortals; see how they cope with such sentiments. I believe you will learn much.'

Reaching down, he plucked a shimmering white flower, watching appreciatively as another grew in its place. 'It is a shame we are caused to take so much for granted' he mused, placing the flower in his friend's distractedly fidgeting hands. He waited for the Angel's eyes to meet his and gazed into them intensely. 'You are something beyond beautiful, Quatre. Never let Them change you'. With a final half-smile, he turned, striding off into the surreal haze of the paradisal garden.

The faded blue jeans and loose white t-shirt felt strange to Quatre as he moved with faltering grace through the busy streets of London, trying to become accustomed to his lack of wings. It was barely midmorning, yet already the city both horrified and fascinated him. He had seen poverty; people languishing on doorsteps or dying in the gutter, unheeded by the bustling masses. He had never imagined that such could be possible in his God's world. But he had also seen hope; brilliant musicians and talented artists, plying their trades on street-corners, trying to work their way up in society. Lost in thought, he stumbled for the seventh time that morning, into the outstretched arms of a stranger.

'Easy there,' a warm voice directed him. 'You fall over here and you'll be trampled. No one will stop to help a stranger.'

'Thank you.' Quatre murmured, righting himself. 'I am unused to this form.' It did not occur to him to lie to the person. Smiling gratefully, he turned to his rescuer. A boy, about the age Quatre appeared to be, regarded him curiously with one green eye, the other being hidden by a wave of brown hair which covered the right side of his face. 'My name is Quatre', he told the boy breathlessly, taken by the simple charm of the figure before him.

'Trowa' the boy replied offhandedly, his hands now in his pockets. 'Triton really, though it's not a name I care to use.' The sudden startlement which crossed the boy's face told Quatre that he had been party to a seldom divulged piece of information. He hoped that this revelation would not discourage Trowa from further conversation with him, surprising himself with the depth of emotion he already felt for this stranger. To his relief, however, the boy quickly recovered his casual indifference. 'Where are you headed?' he inquired.

'Wherever I can find answers' the Angel replied truthfully, not knowing how else to explain.

'Come with me then.' Trowa instructed, guiding the blonde towards a large, red vehicle. 'You can at least tell me your questions.' Pressing a coloured piece of paper into his hands, upon which the words 'Big Bus Company' were printed in large letters, the boy gestured to Quatre to follow his example as he boarded the waiting bus, politely refusing the earphones for the audio-guide.

'You are not like the rest of them.' Quatre remarked as he seated himself beside his new-found friend. 'You said yourself that no one else would have helped me' he elaborated when he did not receive a reply.

'Someone has to look out for types like you' Trowa remarked.

'Like me?'

'Lost in a dream. There's no place for dreams here, not for the likes of us anyway. See Hilde there?' the boy indicated a huddled figure at the back of the bus. 'She sleeps in here every night. Howard's a good driver; he doesn't mind, but the others would throw her back onto the street. She's one of the lucky ones.' Quatre was entirely bewildered.

'How can humans allow their own kind to live in such squalor?'

'It's all they've ever been taught' the boy explained. 'We're barely even human to them, not worth their spit. But you can't judge them for it; they don't know any different.'

'Why does God allow this to happen?' Quatre murmured to himself.

'I used to believe in a God, but, over the years, I've come to doubt him' Quatre started as Treize's words came back to him, but he allowed the boy to continue. 'These days I believe you've just got to make the best you can of what you've got. Living from one day to the next, that's about all you can do.'

'Then why do you go on, if all is so hopeless?' Quatre's tone had become desperate, but he did not miss the look of pure consternation in his companion's emerald eye.

'Because we have to, I guess,' Trowa faltered 'and because we continue to hope that, someday, we will find something, or someone, worth living for.' Quatre saw the tears glistening on the boy's cheeks, even as he felt the moisture rising in his own eyes.

Trowa rose, indicating that they should leave. 'What are you?' he asked the Angel after leading him to a quiet corner of some large park. 'When I first saw you, I knew you were unusual, but you're not human, are you? You're too pure, too naïve to be one of us.'

'I am sorry that I deceived you' Quatre apologised with a pained expression. 'I am an Angel, if you are willing to believe it, seeking answers as I told you. There is a God, in the loosest sense of the word, though I too, I confess, have begun to doubt.' He revealed his wings, unconcerned by the faint sound of cotton tearing as his t-shirt was destroyed. 'Thank you, Trowa; you have taught me more by far than I could have hoped.' Trowa did not seem at all shocked by this revelation. He simply continued to regard the Angel with the same detached curiosity.

'Will you return?' was all he asked.

'To see you?' Quatre smiled wholeheartedly. 'There is no power that could prevent me' he assured the boy, believing his words entirely as he faded from sight.

I resent MS Word for not recognising 'paradisal'. It seems it will only accept the synonym 'paradisiacal' which I feel simply does not flow as well, or sound as pretty. Anyhaps, enough of that. Thank you for reading and further gratitude if you decide to review. Until next time. -Rose