Not Forgotten (1/1)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 , angst, implied CHARACTER DEATH.

Pairing: 3x4

Summary: Some people never get the chance to say goodbye to the people they love. And for some, the chance can come and go without them even realising it...until it's gone.

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Alimah, Dawud and Anna belong to me and shouldn't be used without permission.

Author's notes: This fic is part of the 'Outlasting Time' arc, which is obviously being written way out of order. Although it refers to events in that timeline, it can still be read as a 'stand alone'. For more information and to read the other stories in the series please visit

Thanks to: the beta team – Bast, haraamis, Misanagi and Shadow.

Dedication: For Aunt Patricia. Au revoir. Not Forgotten.

Comments to: anneo

"I'm sorry, I can come back later." Quatre peered around the door of the hospital room and knew immediately that he was intruding.

Alimah smiled weakly at him and gave her husband's hand a squeeze. "It's okay, Cat." A look passed between her and Dawud and he bent over the bed to kiss her cheek. "Dawud was just going to get a coffee." She paused. "And I don't want to be alone at the moment."

Their fingers remained intertwined for a moment, Dawud pulling away reluctantly, his eyes fixed on his wife as though he was trying to take a picture of her with his mind. "I won't be long," he promised.

"I can get you that coffee," Quatre offered, feeling guilty that he was taking some of the little time they had left.

"Ali needs to talk to you as much as you need to talk to her." Dawud shook his head. "I'll only be down the hallway at the coffee machine. I can talk to Trowa for a few minutes while the two of you sort things out."

"And don't try to tell us that Trowa's not hovering outside the door," Alimah said. "I know that husband of yours."

"Tell him I won't be long," Quatre nodded Dawud his gratitude. Trowa had insisted that Quatre went in alone and that he needed some quality time with his sister before the...Quatre had cut him off before he could finish. Alimah would get through this; their family doctors were the best that money could buy. She was weak, but a fighter. She had everything to live for – a husband who loved her and a new daughter who needed her. Quatre had to believe that; he wasn't prepared to lose her. He couldn't, and he wouldn't.

"Sit down, little brother," Alimah said after Dawud had left the room. For once, Quatre didn't correct her – he hated when she called him that – but instead pulled the chair by the bed in closer and sat down.

For a moment the two sat in silence, Quatre placing his hand around his sister's and stroking it gently. "She's a beautiful baby, Ali," he said finally. "You and Dawud should be proud." He glanced over to the bassinet where Anna lay sleeping, her blonde curls framing her pale complexion. She was definitely her mother's daughter; although there was a chance that her hair would darken with age, he doubted that it would be the dark brown, almost black of Dawud's.

"We are proud," Alimah said. She sighed, and her eyes grew moist. Quatre was tempted to wipe them for her, but he knew that Alimah wouldn't like that. She'd always prided herself in being emotionally strong and he wasn't about to take that from her, especially now. "This was worth it, Cat. Even knowing what could happen, I'd still do it again. I know what she meant now." Alimah's fingers curled around his; he could feel her emotions washing over him, a disconcerting mixture of joy and sorrow, pride and regret.

"She?"

"Our mother," Alimah replied. "She told me while she was carrying you that..."

"Carrying me?" Quatre shook his head. His heart was pounding, and his throat felt dry. He looked over at Anna again and back at Alimah, knowing how many times he'd tried to imagine what it might have been like if his mother had lived; if he'd been born naturally and not of a test tube. Alimah had tried her best to love him like a mother; she was closer to him than his other sisters, but it still wasn't the same. He didn't know what a mother's love felt like; all he knew was that he'd never experienced it.

"You were quite precocious, even in the womb," Alimah smiled, her eyes glazing over in memory. "I recall her saying..."

Quatre interrupted her sharply. "What the hell are you talking about?" He tried to keep his voice calm. His sister wasn't well. He needed to stay in control. "I'm not naturally born, Ali. I was grown in a test-tube, just like you. A not so perfect heir to continue Father's..."

She pulled herself into a sitting position; he started to protest, and she slapped him. "You can stop talking like that right this instant, Quatre Raberba Winner! Father didn't grow you in some test tube, and you know it. You were conceived and carried by..." Her voice trailed off. "He didn't tell you? But he promised Iria, he promised her." She sunk back on the pillows, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"I didn't..." Quatre closed his eyes, the room seemed to be spinning. He felt a concerned empathic touch against his mind and sent a feeling of reassurance to Trowa. He was okay. He'd be okay. "What do you mean he didn't tell me?" The drugs must be confusing her; she'd just given birth herself and must be mixing that up with her memories of the past. "I'm not naturally born, Ali," he repeated. "Father would have told me. Iria would have told me. You..." He tried to get some sense of her emotions, but all he could feel was confusion. "You would have told me."

"I'm dying, Quatre. I'm not dead yet." Alimah didn't sound impressed. "And I'm certainly not that drugged up. He was supposed to tell you. I thought he'd told you." She swore under her breath, and Quatre winced. Alimah always could swear like a sailor when provoked, and in several rather colourful languages as well as their native Arabic.

"He didn't tell me." Quatre's ability to think things through logically was failing him just when he needed it. "I just told you that I was grown in a test tube. Did you think I was lying to you?" A thought struck him. "Or did you think that I'd try to hang onto something I never wanted to be true?" His world was turning upside down. Everything he'd thought to be true was a lie. He'd tried to be proud of who he was, of what he was. Rashid had shown him the importance of that and had helped to set him on the path towards his true potential.

"Are you sure that on some level, you didn't want it to be true?" Alimah's eyes never left his. He tried to turn away but couldn't. "I've watched you, Quatre. When you introduce yourself, you say your name with such pride, but you've never wanted to be the Winner heir. You've never seen yourself as the son Father wanted." Her voice softened. "He wanted you, Quatre. Both of them wanted you so badly. Mother risked her life to have you."

"I never asked her to do that." Quatre's voice shook. "How could Father ask her to do that? Was he that desperate for an heir? I..." He went to stand, then sat down again, opened his mouth, but nothing happened. He hadn't asked for this, for any of this. If not for him, their mother would still be alive. Why had she taken such a risk when there had been an alternative?

"It was her decision," Alimah said gently. "Just as this has been my decision. Mother could be very stubborn once she put her mind to something."

"Your decision? " Quatre gripped the side of his chair. He had trusted that his sister knew what she was doing; that the doctors had found some way around the risks and to keep her safe. "How could you bring a child into the world, knowing that the very act could leave her without a mother? That you could be bringing a death sentence down on yourself?"

"Quatre..." Alimah's voice was calm, but he could feel her anger.

"I'm sorry." Although he said the words, they didn't ring true. "I know it's none of my business, but...damn it, Ali. Your life isn't worth losing over this. You can't trade one life for another. It's not right."

"It's my decision, Quatre," Alimah reminded him. "And there was a good chance that we would both survive." She sighed. "I guess I just drew the short straw. But, you know what? I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Why?" He felt as though he was missing some vital piece of information but couldn't work out what was.

"For Anna. The same way Mother would have done it again for you. Don't underestimate a mother's love, Cat." Something in her voice made him look up. There were tears in her eyes, and this time he leaned over the bed to wipe them for her. "Or a father's."

"I'd like to say I understand, but I don't," he whispered, pulling her into an embrace. "I don't want to lose you, Ali."

"You're not going to lose me, silly." Alimah relaxed against him for a moment then allowed him to lower her gently back onto her pillows. "At least not forever." She placed her hand over his heart. "I'll still be alive in here for as long as I'm not forgotten."

"You're not going to die just yet," Quatre insisted, his voice not as firm as it was supposed to be. "And you won't be taking this chance again."

"No," she said. "I won't."

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither moving. Her words sounded so final, but Quatre was determined to ignore his growing fear. She would survive this. She had to for Anna. For Dawud.

For him.

"When you decided to become a Gundam pilot and fight, you took a chance for the greater good." Alimah's thumb stroked Quatre's chest slowly, the rhythm of the movement steady and sure. "I'm proud of you, Quatre, of what you've done with your life." She smiled at him, but it couldn't disguise her pain. "You discovered a part of yourself I'd thought lost, when you met the Maguanacs. Whatever Rashid said to you, he managed to convince you that you were worthwhile, that it was actions that counted, not origins. You were always such a sad child, Quatre. It was as though you were reaching out for something or someone you'd lost, but you didn't know who or what. I tried my best, but it was never good enough."

"Rashid told me," Quatre remembered, "that whatever a person's circumstances, that once you've been given the gift of life you should live a life that you can be proud of." He glanced over at Anna. "That's one of the reasons I piloted Sandrock. Someone had to fight to end the war. I couldn't just watch and do nothing. I know that you were angry with me for going against Father's ideals but..."

"No, no," Alimah protested. "I wasn't angry. I was worried. You're my baby brother, Quatre. It wasn't easy for me to watch the news, to hear the news about the Gundams and wonder if you'd come back to me. To us. We were proud of you; Father was too. But I couldn't help but wonder if the cost was too high."

"I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, Ali," Quatre admitted. Iria had told him that their father had been proud of him too. He wanted to believe that they both spoke the truth. "I don't regret fighting, but I've killed so many people. I doubt I'm ever going to forget that."

"You shouldn't forget that. And good things often come at a cost, one that we'd rather not pay but is often necessary."

"You can't compare..." Quatre's voice trailed off. "Dawud will be back in a moment," he finished lamely, not wanting the little time they had left to become another argument.

"I know," she said softly. "Quatre, I want you to promise me something. If..." Her voice wavered. "When I'm gone I want you to..."

"You're not going anywhere," he protested, but she ignored him.

"I want you to tell Anna about me, to keep the memories alive for her, too."

"But Dawud's her father," Quatre said. "If...and that's a big if, something happens, he's the one who should tell her about you. I don't want to interfere."

"You wouldn't be interfering; I'm asking you to do this. Dawud knows I'm asking you to do this." Alimah glanced over at her daughter. "You're her uncle, you're family. Don't ever forget that. We want you to be a part of her life. Both you and Trowa."

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Like I wasn't going to be? Ali, you're my sister, she's my niece. I wasn't planning to be a stranger." But by the same token, he didn't want to take over a role that was already filled. Anna had parents, a mother and a father. He hesitated, and his sister's hand dropped to lie limply by her side. "Ali, are you okay? Should I call the doctor?" Rubbing his chest absently, the dull pain he'd been feeling since entering the room was growing stronger and becoming more difficult to ignore.

"Just a few more minutes, Cat. I just want a few more minutes." The determined look on her face was one that he was very familiar with. Trowa had once said that it was a Winner trait, that he wasn't about to try to fight what was obviously genetics. Quatre had snorted at the time, but a part of him knew that his husband was right. There were some things that couldn't be fought, some battles that couldn't be won.

"Then I'm going to get Dawud." Quatre had stayed longer than he had intended. Alimah was tired; she needed to rest and put her energy into getting well again. The pregnancy and birth had taken a lot out of her. Too much.

"I want you to share the memories you have of me. Dawud doesn't have those memories of what it was like to grow up with a bossy, overprotective sister who loved you."

"Who loves me," Quatre corrected, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll do that for you, I promise." And she could laugh at his stories and tell her daughter her version of what had happened.

"If...when she shows an interest in music, I want you to teach her, the same way I taught you." Alimah's breathing was becoming laboured. "Promise me, please."

Quatre rose to his feet. "I promise." Yes, he could help with that. Though he was sure that his sister would change her mind about that when the time came. As much as he loved her, he knew that she was stubborn and opinionated and liked to do things her own way. "I'll be back later, okay? I'm going to get Dawud now, and the doctor." He paused at the doorway to give her one last smile. "I love you, Ali. Take care."

"Love you too, Cat." Alimah fixed her gaze on him. "Goodbye," she whispered.

Dawud was waiting on the other side of the door. The other man placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "Thank you," he said, before disappearing into the room and closing the door behind him.

A sudden wave of pain, of loss washed over Quatre, and he stumbled, only to be caught in Trowa's embrace. "Cat?"

"Goodbye," Quatre whispered, suddenly realising what she had meant, the final barriers between the truth and his denial washing away in the strong emotional tide he'd felt from Dawud. "She said goodbye."

Trowa led Quatre away from the door as a doctor and several nurses ran past them, the noise from the medical monitors filling the air with a cacophony of electronic pain.

"I know," Trowa whispered, holding Quatre tightly, gently stroking his hair. "Not goodbye, just au revoir."

"Not forever," Quatre whispered, repeating Alimah's words. He leaned into Trowa's embrace, and Trowa into his, each supporting the other. "Not forgotten."

Fin