Trepidation

Trowa's Fear: Loneliness

Kattie

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: This specific story will contain a Trowa with a creepily intelligent psychology. The basic idea of this chapter was conceived in a continuing nightmare that haunts me.

Note: This is not a ghost story. Also, this is not completely edited yet but should have a third draft up within the next two days.

Chapter Genre: Horror/Angst. If you stretch your imagination, you might also come up with a shounen ai pairing- but this was not my intention.

The newest safe house was needlessly large, standing lopsided on a hill overgrown with long, yellow grass. Its many neighboring houses were clouded over by its monstrous shadow, allowing them freedom in turns with the placement of the sun. The house was a faded rose color, the paint breaking off in small fragments. Although it had obviously stood long, the house was unnaturally quiet- the only sound heard within a soft breeze easily able to penetrate its failing walls.

"It looks haunted." Duo stated firmly, dropping his down heavily onto the floor.

"Don't be stupid, Maxwell." Wufei retorted, eyeing the walls in satisfaction.

Following his comrades into the room, Quatre touched a hand to an enormous window. "It seems a bit conspicuous." He said quietly.

Stepping past the other pilots, Hiiro walked to the window and closed the drapes, causing Quatre to recoil. "The mission requires us to remain near the base of operations. This location is within a half mile."

"Weren't there any less...." Duo paused to look around, "creepy.. houses?"

"No." Hiiro replied harshly.

Trowa entered the main room silently and sat on the peeling sofa. His eyes wandered the room, not gazing upon its large walls but instead over the faces of his fellow pilots as they continued to bicker.

"I think we'd be safer in an Oz prison," Duo continued, shivering as he noticed the many cobwebs adorning the ceiling, "At least we could see our enemies. Better than being eaten by ghosts in our sleep-"

"Be quiet, Maxwell."

Grumbling to himself, Duo sat cross-legged on the floor. "They'll eat the non-believers first."

Hiiro and Wufei began discussing the mission as Quatre went to comfort Duo. Trowa continued to watch and fell easily into his thoughts, allowing the conversations around him to go unheard. His eyes fell on the smiling Quatre as he seemed to reassure Duo once again that ghosts hated large houses.

"Isn't that right, Trowa?" Quatre said with a grin, looking over at Trowa.

Taken aback by his sudden incorporation into the discussion, Trowa failed to answer, seeming to ignore his blond companion. He looked away in embarrassment, but did not reveal this emotion by blushing.

"The heaters are malfunctioning," Hiiro said routinely to Trowa, "Check for spare blankets."

Nodding, Trowa stood a little too quickly and left the room.

The safe house echoed with the soft, uncontrolled sobs from Quatre's room, waking Trowa from his shallow sleep. Recognizing his fellow pilot's voice immediately, Trowa slipped out of his own bed and crept to his friend's room.

Trowa could hear the crying grow louder as he approached Quatre's bed and felt his chest tighten in response.

"Quatre?"

There was no response from the blond pilot and Trowa realized that he was still asleep. 'A nightmare?' He wondered, shaking Quatre gently to wake him. "Quatre." He repeated slightly louder.

Quatre's eyes shot open, fixing themselves directly onto Trowa's darkened face. With a quick intake of breath, he jerked to the far side of the bed and sat up. "Wh-Who's there?" He asked, continuing to sob though now awake.

"It's Trowa." Trowa replied, trying to make his voice sound soothing but failing as usual. "Are you all right?"

"Trow...Trowa?" Quatre questioned, reaching up to touch his friend's face.

Trowa touched his hand over Quatre's. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Quatre replied too quickly, "I'll be fine, sorry. Just a bad dream. I should be used to it by now. Every night-" He inhaled sharply as his voice broke. "I-I'm sorry I woke you."

"Quatre...." Trowa took a deep breath and thought carefully before speaking his next words, "Do you want to talk about it?"

With a weak smile, Quatre embraced his friend tightly and began sobbing again. Trowa could smell sweat mingled with the sweet scent of shampoo in Quatre's hair. The warmth from his small body made Trowa completely forget the chill of the house.

"What's wrong?" A voice from the door asked.

Trowa looked up to see that Wufei and Hiiro had appeared. Only Duo hadn't been awakened by Quatre's fearful crying. "Nothing," Trowa answered, tightening his arms around Quatre, "Everything's fine."

The two pilots nodded and Wufei returned to his room immediately. Hiiro, however, waited a few minutes longer, watching Trowa rock Quatre back and forth on the tangled bed sheets. Seeming satisfied, he nodded his farewell to Trowa and left the two alone.

"I-I'm sorry, Trowa." Quatre said quietly.

Without replying, Trowa rubbed Quatre's back gently. 'There's no reason to apologize, Quatre.' Trowa thought, taking another breath of his friend's sweet-smelling hair. Allowing himself to forget the situation, Trowa grinned broadly. 'No reason to apologize.'

Trowa woke late the next morning. His arms and back were sore from rocking Quatre but his mood was the best it had ever been. With a shallow smile, he got out of bed and dressed, anxious to see his newfound friend again.

As he entered the kitchen, the familiar scent of Quatre's cooking reached him. 'He's a kind person,' Trowa thought happily, 'He will be a good friend.'

The other four pilots were scattered about the room. Hiiro was typing furiously on his laptop with his plate of food sitting untouched beside him. Sitting quietly at the table, Wufei took an occasional bite of food, but seemed preoccupied by deep thoughts. In the kitchen, Quatre was talking to Duo, whose empty plate sat on the counter near them.

Quatre smiled when he saw Trowa. "See, Duo," he said gently, "Trowa's right here. He wasn't eaten by any ghosts."

Returning a slight grin, Trowa began dishing himself some egg. 'Think of something to say to him,' he told himself, 'he wants you to talk to him.'

"Di-"

"Then what were those weird noises last night?" Duo started, looking around suspiciously, "It sounded like someone crying.... Maybe the ghost is really sad. That means it'll turn hostile soon!"

Coughing delicately, Quatre looked away and blushed. "It must have been the wind." He replied softly.

Trowa decided to try again. "I-"

"I know what the wind sounds like," Duo continued, "That was something else."

Abandoning his efforts, Trowa returned to his food. 'Why can't Duo be quiet for one second?' He wondered in frustration. As he ate, Trowa suddenly felt as though someone was watching him. Turning, he saw Hiiro staring intensely at him with an unpleasant look on his face. The two pilots held eye contact for a moment as Hiiro seemed to analyze Trowa and Trowa, in turn, knew he shouldn't be the first one to turn away.

"My money's on Trowa," Duo said quietly to Quatre, "I can already see Hiiro's eyes watering."

Shifting his glare to Duo, Hiiro stood and swiftly closed his laptop. Taking his plate onto his lap, he gaze Trowa a final look before beginning to eat.

When breakfast was finished, Quatre walked the room to collect the dishes. Trowa watched him for a moment, carefully planning his next words to the blond.

"Do you need help?" He asked, only just loud enough for Quatre to hear.

Quatre smiled. "Thank you, I'd really appreciate some help cleaning," he walked to the sink, "Maybe we can talk some more? I'd like to get to know you better."

A slight grin came to Trowa's lips. 'That sounds nice.' He thought in response.

The two worked together to wash the dishes, Quatre cleaning the plates and Trowa drying them The time passed unusually swiftly and Trowa began to wish there were more pilots if only for the reason of more plates to clean. As he reached the last dish, a thought occurred to him.

'If Quatre turned to me from fear.... Then maybe....'

Trowa looked from the slippery plate in his hand to Quatre's arm cleaning out the sink a few feet beneath it. 'Maybe....' Closing his eyes, Trowa let the dish drop.

The dish fell straight down to Quatre's exposed arm and shattered into a hundred sharp pieces. Recoiling away from the sink, Quatre touched his healthy hand to the blood drenching his slashed arm. He stared at it blankly for a moment before speaking in a disjointed voice, "T-Trowa....Can I see that towel.... Please?"

Stunned at what he had just done, it took a few seconds for Trowa to regain control of his senses. "It slipped," he explained in an unnaturally fearful voice, "I lost my hold of it. I couldn't hold it. It just slid out of my hand. I-"

"Trowa," Quatre interrupted in a serious tone, "I need the towel."

Coming back to his senses, Trowa wrapped the towel tightly around Quatre's arm. "I'm sorry...." He said quietly, "Hold it over the sink." He carefully brought Quatre's arm to over the sink, allowing the blood to slip into the soapy dishwater.

"What happened?" Hiiro's voice came from behind them.

Trowa turned to him in horror. He tried to form the words in his mind but his tongue was unable to speak them. Instead, he just stared blankly into Hiiro's dark eyes and tried to contain his guilt.

"A dish fell." Quatre replied in a tired voice, "Do we have any bandages?"

Hiiro was silent for a moment. "The dish fell... onto your arm?"

Quatre nodded. "It was slippery."

Shooting Trowa a fiery glare, Hiiro took a first aid kit from the top of the cupboards. Taking a chair from the kitchen table, he carried it to Quatre. "Sit." He commanded.

Shakily, Quatre tried to set himself into the chair. Dizziness seemed to overtake him, however, and he soon fell, only to be caught by Trowa. "Th-thank you." He said weakly, holding on tightly to Trowa's strong arms.

"I can apply the bandages." Trowa told Hiiro, taking the first aid kit form him.

Eyeing Trowa suspiciously, Hiiro sat at the kitchen table. "Are you all right?" He asked Quatre.

"I'll b-b-be," he winced in pain as Trowa began cleaning the wounds, "I'll be fine."

"Sorry," Trowa whispered, "I'm sorry...."

"It was an accident, Trowa," Quatre replied, forcing a smile, "There's nothing to be sorry about."

"But...." Trowa finished tying the bandage, "I hurt you."

"Trowa," Quatre took his friend's hand and held it tightly, "It's just a few scratches. It's nothing to worry about and no reason to apologize. I should have cleaned the soap off better before handing the dish to you. It was my own fault, all right?"

Thinking about the blond's words for a few moments, Trowa proceeded to nod, accepting Quatre's answer as the most truthful. It was an accident, of course, and Quatre's own fault as well. 'I wouldn't hurt him,' Trowa told himself, 'Not on purpose.'

Grinning broadly, Quatre took Trowa into an embrace. "It's all right. Accidents happen. Thank you for cleaning and bandaging it. You're a good friend to have."

Feeling completely content, Trowa inhaled the scent of his friend's hair deeply. It was only after this that he saw Hiiro over Quatre's shoulder, watching the two and scowling. His eyes seemed to bore directly into Trowa's soul.

And directly past the lie.

Trowa pulled Quatre tighter and spoke his last apology in a loud, clear voice, making eye-contact with Hiiro, "I'm sorry."

That night Trowa lay awake in bed for a long time thinking about the past day. Although there had been much excitement in the morning, talking to Quatre as he washed dishes and being held by his friend while being spoken to softly. The scent of Quatre had covered his shirt all day and only faded late in the evening, much to Trowa's disappointment.

Sitting up slowly in his bed, Trowa listened carefully for sounds from Quatre's room. He closed his eyes but heard nothing. Frowning, he tried to ignore the melancholy silence. 'Why aren't you crying," Trowa mentally asked the blond, "Isn't your arm throbbing by now? Didn't you say your nightmares were recurring?'

'Maybe I just can't hear him crying from here.' He thought hopefully. Cautiously walking to Quatre's room, Trowa continued listening intently.

'Why aren't you crying?' he questioned again, entering his friend's room.

Disappointment gnawing on his tired heart, Trowa stood watching Quatre sleep peacefully. Beside the bed, two lonely pictures sat on the bed stand. The larger of the two depicted a very large group of girls swarming around Quatre lovingly and Trowa could easily recognize them as his sisters. The other, however, was more difficult to place.

Taking the unframed photograph into his hand, Trowa carefully examined the man with a young Quatre hanging from his arm. The man had light brown, messy hair with bangs that had fallen over his eyes. He looked unaccustomed to the child's company but was grinning broadly down at him.

'His father?' Trowa thought, putting the picture back, 'They look nothing alike. Quatre's skin is far fairer and his eyes seem.... Kinder.' He sighed and glared at the photo, 'Why would you ever let a boy like this go to war?'

Looking back to his sleeping companion, an intense desire struck him. He needed to speak with Quatre, to comfort him and ease his pain. If only he would have a nightmare.

Trowa grinned shamelessly as an idea occurred to him. 'He probably doesn't remember every nightmare after waking up. Sometimes, he must wake and wonder what frightened him. I'll bet if I woke him now, he'd believe me if I said he'd been crying.'

"Quatre," Trowa said gently, touching a hand to the blond's arm, "Quatre, wake up!"

Lazily opening one eye, Quatre murmured a nonexistent word as he rolled towards Trowa. "Nn," he yawned, "Is something wrong?"

"You were having a nightmare." Trowa replied quickly.

Quatre sat up sleepily. "I was?" He asked, reaching his hand out to find the lamp.

Trowa took the extended hand. "You kept saying that you were in pain," he insisted, "Is your arm hurting?"

Rubbing a hand down his bandaged arm, Quatre shook his head. "It's not that bad. Nothing that would wake me up. Was I really talking in my sleep?"

Trowa nodded enthusiastically in response. "You sounded upset."

"That's strange...." Quatre carefully took his hand back, "Thank you for waking me. I'd hate to have everyone up again."

'He's dismissing you,' Trowa thought in a panic, 'He's trying to get rid of you. This isn't working. You need to come up with something else, something that affects him more. You have to have a conversation with him.'

"You were saying something about your father." He said in an unnaturally swift voice.

Quatre was silent for a moment. The lamp clicked on and Trowa could see his friend's terrified face. "What was I saying?" Quatre asked.

Making sure that none of the deceit was showing on his now-visible face, Trowa replied, "It sounded like he was dying in the dream.... You were asking him to come back but he wouldn't and...." He turned away, allowing a small smile at having his friend's complete attention.

"I haven't seen my father in a long time," Quatre said slowly, looking over at the photograph, "Not since the beginning of the war. I wonder what made me think of him."

"Are you close to your father?" Trowa questioned.

Shaking his head, Quatre smiled weakly. "He's a businessman so we've never had much time together. I was usually with servants while he worked all day. Even when we did talk, we never really got along well."

"Is he sick?" Trowa asked in a compassionate tone.

"No.... and he's still young. It's really strange that I'd have that kind of dream about him," Quatre took a shaking breath, "I hope he's all right...."

Letting out a mental sigh of happiness, Trowa embraced his friend, ecstasy filling him as Quatre's scent returned. "I'm sure everything is fine."

He continued comforting his friend long into the night, thinking about the man in the photograph. 'How could he ignore someone as gentle as Quatre?' he wondered, 'The fool had him right there for fifteen years and chose work over his son? Foolish, evil man.' He looked down at Quatre, 'How can you still care for him, Quatre? The man doesn't deserve you.'

Trowa continued thinking for a moment before coming to a decision, 'Didn't deserve you.'

When he finally did leave the room, Trowa found Hiiro waiting silently outside the door.

"Is he all right?" Hiiro asked quietly.

Trowa nodded in response. "Nightmare."

Hiiro was quiet for a moment. "He usually only has that dream on Tuesdays." He reflected.

Shrugging, Trowa left Hiiro to muse and returned to his own bed. 'Hiiro seems suspicious of me,' he thought coldly, 'I'll have to be more careful. He's too perceptive.'

The next morning, Quatre was late to rise, having spent the majority of the night being comforted by Trowa. He hurried into the room long after the four other pilots, apologizing profusely. "I'm sorry. I can make something right away. It's too late for breakfast.... But are you hungry for lunch?"

As he turned smiling to the other pilots he noticed the grim expressions on their faces. Even Duo looked ready to start crying at any second. Hiiro stood and walked over to Quatre.

"We need to talk." He said mechanically.

"What's wrong?" Quatre's eyes widened and his smile vanished.

Hiiro took a deep breath. "This would probably be easier with just two of us," he took Quatre's hand, "We can talk in your room."

Jerking his hand away, terror filled Quatre's eyes. He seemed horrified by Hiiro's unusual friendliness, as though knowing something truly horrible must have happened for him to act as such. "What happened?"

"Why don't you sit first?" Hiiro suggested.

"What happened, Hiiro?" Unusual forcefulness filled Quatre's voice.

Silent for a few minutes, Hiiro spoke with his emotionless battle-voice, seeming unable to speak the news otherwise. "This morning at 0045 hours there was an attack on Winner Manor. Intelligence believes it was the work of an angry business owner... Your father was in his study at the time. An assassin found him there and...." Hiiro paused as all shreds of happiness drained from Quatre's face, "Your father was taken to the colony's hospital and treated for a gunshot wound to the neck. At 0137 hours this morning they lost him."

Hiiro put a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"B-but," Quatre gave his friend a pleading look, "He's never at home. He always works at the office in his building."

"I'm sorry, Quatre," Hiiro repeated, "They're still investigating."

Quatre's eyes shot around the room as his mind searched to find another explanation for what he was being told. When he realized that there was none to be found, his knees gave out, sending him to the ground. Hiiro reacted quickly and caught the blond under the armpits.

"But he had three security teams and there were bodyguards positioned on him at all times and there were cameras everywhere and-" Quatre interrupted himself with a sob. As he began to break down, he held tightly onto Hiiro.

'What's he doing?' Trowa mentally screamed, 'After all of my meticulous planning, Hiiro takes the prize! That bastard is always in the way.' Dispirited, Trowa glared enviously at Hiiro.

Ignoring the look, Hiiro carefully knelt on the ground with Quatre, holding the boy tightly. Quatre's sobs were screaming through the air. His hands clenched and unclenched, bunching up part of Hiiro's shirt and releasing it.

Duo began crying softly and silently in response, covering his face with one hand. Wufei awkwardly stood and left the room, muttering something to the group that went unheard. Ignoring these actions, Trowa remained sitting on the sofa, staring unblinkingly at Hiiro.

'He's making this situation far too difficult,' Trowa thought bitterly, 'His greed is ridiculous.'

Finally Hiiro looked up and fixed eyes with Trowa. His eyes told Trowa all he needed to know. Hiiro understood far too much.

'He'll have to be removed from the situation.'

Hiiro was contacted by headquarters later that day. "The mission must be commenced this evening." he told the other pilots.

Quatre sat silently beside him on the couch, with an expression that suggested he was unable to comprehend his friend's words. His tearful eyes stared off blankly, an occasional droplet breaking free and running down his face. Although Hiiro no longer held him, the brunet continued to grip his companion's hand.

"Only two pilots are required," Hiiro continued, "One person to infiltrate Oz Facility 219, gain access to the primary weaponry facility, and reroute controls to my laptop. Given the importance of furtive movement and knowledge of armaments, Trowa will be given this mission."

He paused to look over at Trowa. "The second person will be positioned directly outside the facility and will monitor all movements within the building to guarantee the absence of detection. This will be my own assignment."

'You want to guard my back?' Trowa questioned, 'I could never allow that. You'd have me dead in a heart beat.' Just as he was about to object to Hiiro's statements, Quatre spoke up.

"I should go with him, Hiiro."

The four other pilots turned to him. His eyes were red from crying but seemed aware of the situation. He had released Hiiro's hand.

Quatre forced a weak smile. "Monitoring is really my expertise... My piloting responsibilities are more important than mourning." He spoke in a quiet, rugged voice.

Hiiro shook his head forcefully. "Your arm leaves you vulnerable."

"A few scratches won't inhibit my performance." Quatre softly replied.

Making eye contact, the two spoke silently for a few minutes before Hiiro broke away. "I'll need to inspect your wounds first." He said awkwardly.

Nodding, Quatre followed Hiiro to the bathroom, leaving the other three to wonder on their wordless conversation. Although it was obvious that Quatre and Trowa would be the best choices for the mission, all of the pilots knew why Hiiro had made the change. Duo looked around awkwardly in response to his knowledge while Wufei glared daggers at Trowa.

Feeling curious and a bit annoyed, Trowa followed Hiiro and Quatre. As he approached the bathroom, he could hear the two talking quietly and decided to wait outside. Frowning at being excluded, once again, from a conversation with Quatre, Trowa listened carefully.

"You know why you can't be sent on this mission." Hiiro said angrily.

"Yes....but the mission is more important." Quatre replied in a submissive voice.

"It's too dangerous for you."

"I don't think it will happen again. Sometimes we all lose a hold of ourselves."

"Quatre-"

"It was just a mistake. This war makes us all act crazy sometimes."

"It wasn't the first time and it couldn't have been a mistake."

"....Are you sure?"

"You know more than I do."

"But... no one's that...evil."

Trowa listened intently, trying to catch every word of their conversation. He didn't understand what they were talking about. He had never known Quatre to make errors during missions. Nothing made sense.

"Quatre," Hiiro said vehemently, "He's not a sane person. You can't deny that he dropped that dish on purpose."

'Wait....' Trowa's mind was racing.

"Maybe I was wrong," Quatre replied, "I might have made a mistake."

"What about your 'nightmare?'"

"He couldn't have known I was awake.... He probably had his own bad dream but didn't want to admit it to me."

"Quatre, stop defending him. He had your father killed."

Quatre fell silent.

"You can't ignore the intelligence report," Hiiro continued, "He hired those men to assassinate your father. You can't protect a person like that, Quatre. He'll have to leave us. We can't trust him on missions anymore."

'You don't understand anything!' Trowa mentally screamed, 'You can't make this kind of decision. You're the one with the problems! You must be a fool to misunderstand my actions. Quatre will defend me. He knows what I'm doing. My actions were meant to be taken.'

"Hiiro," Quatre whispered in a quavering voice, "I'm afraid of him."

Trowa's thoughts stopped. His only friend's words echoed through his head a thousand times. "I'm afraid..." Before he begun to grasp the situation, his tears had begun to flow for the first time in years. When he finally understood, he walked slowly to the front door and left, leaving the door open behind him.

None of the pilots ever saw him again.

End of Trepidation: Trowa's Fear: Loneliness.