Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Gundam Wing, never will, not a chance, much as I would like to. :)

New AN: I really hated the way this chapter turned out, so I'm gonna take another swing at it. I'm hoping that you'll all forgive me for the poor (pathetic) quality of the original chapter 5! Thank you. I'm sorry about this not being a new chapter, but I really didn't like the way that one turned out.

Taylor Mercury – I really hope that you don't mind the change, I'm sorry, but I didn't like the way everything turn out so short and choppy. I want the angst to stay, but I didn't like the confusion, and general lack of time that went into it.

Koriaena – thank you for your review, again, I hope you don't minds me re-writing this...

Joel! - hands you more fake patience you're going to need lots of it, since I know how bad you are for patience! grin

Woodcutter

Kasi-kun

Chapter 5 - Trowa

Sometimes, when I was younger I would wonder what drives a person, what keeps them going. I mean, all the great heroes in the past, all of them beat terrible odds, and did wonderful things when everyone else would have died, failed or given up. Well, some say it has a lot to do with sheer dumb luck, and a viselike grip on life. Others say it is all in the hero's stubbornness, and still more people say it is neither of those, but it is in fact a terror of the unknown, and therefore an unwillingness to leave this life. Almost everyone says it has to do with a 'will to live', something to live for.

I'm not entirely sure I agree. I think that it's more a matter of when they were at their weakest they were unable to die. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm a hero, but some people think that I am, so I'm trying to explain it. Those first days after Duo was taken, had I been given any choice in the matter, I would have chosen death. I don't agree with it now, and I'm not proud of it, but that is the truth. Those pens were misery. Pure and unaltered misery. The crust of bread and gulp of water I got just before Duo was taken away was my last in that place. Heat, stench, and crying were constant. They were what told me this couldn't possibly be just a terrible dream that I would wake from soon. I could never have imagined the heat of the sun on my unprotected head, or the high pitched wails of terrified children, lonely and starving, nor had I ever in my years smelled anything like that place. Until you live it, experience it, there is no way that you can dream it so vividly.

I hadn't realized how much Duo had helped me, focused me, and cheered me, until he was gone. Even Reese was dragged away; his gang was led out of the enclosure only hours after Duo was taken. I just lay there, in a dazed stupor and longed for death. Or at least the ending of all feeling. If I had been given any say in the matter I wouldn't be writing this story now, I wouldn't be around to pen it. But, as Duo would say, enough with the doom and gloom thoughts, on with the events.

After four days of lying limp and brainless in the dust and filth of the slave enclosure, strange as it seems, I gathered woke to an over-cast sky, and an interest in my surroundings. Maybe I had realized that this was getting me nowhere, or maybe it was just the lack of early morning sunrays beginning to bake me all over again, but whatever the cause I woke to actually look at the other kids who were still chained to me, and was coherent enough to wonder if any of them would be up to helping us all escape.

I took a quick check of myself, hungry, thirsty, a bit hot in the early morning humidity, but other than that, I was awake, alert and read for the world, now if I could just get out of that place. And alive at that. That was the key to it all! Alive.

A count of my chain mates told me that there were three girls and six boys, all but one about my age, that were still attached to me. If my ciphering skills had not totally deserted me, that made ten of us. A rawboned trio were fastened next to me. Please remember that since Duo's master broke him free of the chains that fastened him to me, and Reese was taken away to be sold, that meant that I was the first in line, or last depending on how you looked at it. Now, the rawboned ones were a girl and two boys, all of them about my size (brawnier, but the same height) and age, with the brown hair/eyes/skin combination that was common to that part of the world. Just beyond them was the only one that was a bit older than me. He had to be at least twenty years old and was obviously, even though we were all sitting down, about a head taller than me, if not more. He was also very thin. I know I'm considered tall and rather exceptionally lean, but this boy had to be thinner than me. Forever, but that's saying a lot. He also had striking long blonde hair and ice blue eyes that spoke of the cities beyond my mountains.

"Hey!" I hunched forward, looking at the four I've just described, "Hey, there!"

I got no response from the boy next to me, or the other rawboned kid, maybe his brother?, but the girl and Ash-blonde looked at me with a vague kind of interest in their eyes.

"Wa kwna defda?"

I was floored, I'd never thought that there would be people who spoke different words than me. "Can you talk like this?" I asked hopefully. The girl, who had spoken glanced at Ash-blonde and he shrugged.

"He does." The youth pointed to himself when he spoke, forever, but this was just great. How was this going to work? Oh well, it was sure worth a try.

So I leaned back, staring at the sky, eyes glazed, as if bored, and murmured, "Do you want to leave? To go?" I didn't want to use the word escape, it would bring the goons down on our collective head so fast it would take your breath away.

"Leave?" The blonde flopped back down to the ground, looking spiritless, miserable, and basically listless. The guards wandered by, not sparing us a glance. "He would like this." I'm sure that the ground was very glad to learn this, and I could barely catch the words he spoke, but I did catch them. Forever, listen to me whine, I should have been glad that Ash-blonde wasn't shouting my question to the world because he didn't understand it, not whimptering when he didn't speak clearly enough. "But, He wonders how to leave." He shifted so that the chains about his legs rattled suggestively.

"We can figure it out. I'm Trowa."

"Huh. He thinks this is a good thought, but impossible, he's Zechs." I knew that I was going to get tired of my new friend calling himself 'he' all the time. But then, maybe my saying 'forever', would bother him. It is almost guaranteed that if something bothers you about another person, than something about you drives them insane, too.

That aside, I was stuck, just like when Duo was still here. I couldn't get out of those chains. Forever, but I wanted to leave, to go home, desperately. If I did get home, I would never long for an adventure again in my life.

Before I could drown myself in self pity, the boy right next to me, poked me, qwerked a eyebrow, and asked, "Trowa?" I nodded, looking at him curiously, he pointed to his own chest, "Franz." To the other boy who looked like him, "Mueller." And to the girl, "Gretan." I gave a small nod to them all, letting them know that I heard and understood. Zechs spoke to them then, in a low voice, for quite a while, but they just nodded for the most part in return, and soon silence fell. I could think of no escape route.

Only a little while later, it could have been no later than noon, our group of ten was rounded up by the guards and lead the way all the other gangs had gone. I'm not sure I've mentioned it, but it was brutally hot, and more humid than I had felt yet, but blessedly there was a layer of cloud across the face of the sky, so the blasting sun didn't get to torment us for the first time in days.

As we were kicked and prodded to get up, two in my gang, farther along than Zechs on the chain, didn't get up. One didn't even attempt to, but the other sort of twitched and whimpered a bit as he was struck with a guard's lash, but he never really moved. The steward guard, the one with all the keys was called over as I stood swaying, desperate to keep my balance. It still amazes me how fast you can reach such a bad condition if you don't treat your body properly, no matter whether your brain is alert that day or not. The girl who hadn't even moved turned out to be dead already, and the steward opened her chain, and they dragged her to the other side of the pen and dropped, left to decay in the open. I would have wretched if I had anything to heave up. The second, the twitching one who was a boy my age, had his chain removed as well, and as we were shoved into a shuffling walk, he looked up at me, wide terrified eyes begging with me to help him. I turned my head to keep contact with him as long as I could, then as I, and dozens of others watched, a guard neglectantly reached down and drove his dagger through the kid's throat. He watched me, as he died. His eyes never left mine. Forever. I could feel my heart beat in my temples.

Zechs hurled his body against the restraints, howling in fury. I didn't know what he said in his language, but I was too busy staring into the glazing eyes of the victim, because don't doubt it for a minute, he was a victim, to even really react as I was wrenched off my feet by the chain around my ankles. Blood had splattered the guard's hand and he smirked into Zechs' furious face as he wiped it off onto the boy's ragged tunic, then he turned away and with his friends, he laughed, pretending to wipe more gore on him.

Any coherent thoughts I had that morning melted away; everything became a bit dreamlike and distant as we were heaved to our feet and hustled along. I cranked my head as far around as it would go, watching to light leave the boy's eyes, almost as if I could see his soul departing out the rent in his jugular. We would all be just like him, that's what a voice in the back of my head screamed. We were going to die! Dead. We'd all be dead!

Dead. Dead. Dead. It beat in time with my pulse. With my own blood, it was like a deep far away thunder in the background.

Dead. Dead. Dead. All of us were walking corpses; it was only a matter of time until we died too. Step, step, right foot, left foot, careful not to trip. Forever, but tears had slid out of his eyes at the end. Clank. Clank. The chains kept the rhythm in my head.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

We were in a beautiful glade, a river babbling over rocks in the center, a dusty road, the one we walked, lead to a deep pond. Obviously the masters didn't want to show prospective buyers mercandise that was smelly, exhasted, sweat and filth smeared. We splashed in it, the water sweaping away a wealth of little ickies, but I didn't rouse out of my stuper. We staggered back out, our bodies cleaner and out bellies sloshing full of the dreadful water.

But I was too far gone to care. We were all dead anyway. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The short trek from there to the market seemed to take forever, and we were almost dry in the heat before we got there.

We entered a beautiful outdoor theatre, with the seats rising before us, over half full of people. Trees shaded the entire area, low plants grew around the stage and up into the seating area. Didn't they know? Didn't they care? Children were dieing here, because of them, because they were willing to come and buy us. We, the living dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Moisture dripped from the leaves, and from my hair, and I cringed, because all I could remember was the sound of that boy trying to breathe with his torn neck. It was the beat of my heart, the sound of my breathing. It was like a drum in my ears. I would never see my family again. I would never see Duo again, or Quatre, who I had never even gotten to know. I wanted these rich people, these wealthy comfortable, heartless bastards to know what I was feeling what I was to be me. Or any of these children. I wanted them to know terror, and pain, hunger and thirst, but most of all I wanted to show them death.

Dead. Dead, dead, deaddeaddead! My heart beat seemed to peak. To fill me.

I stared at the trees around me, they were swaying gently. Beautiful, peaceful, but I didn't want that, I wanted them all to know our pain. Everyone in that market to understand what horror inhabited our world. The trees began swaying harder, groaning in the wind that my dazed mind didn't realize wasn't there. The auctioneer walked to the center of the stage as the first of my gang as brought forward to be sold. How could they not see our misery? How could they not care? I wanted free, I wanted to go home. The little plants in the stands shriveled, withering. It was unbearably hot in the pit of the theater. They, those people up there should burn too. They should know how this grief felt.

Anger swept me. They needed to know. They must know what they were doing was wrong. They needed to learn!

Then the stage was engulfed in flames. Screams echoed all through the place, women and children wailing, and men shouting. I yelled too. Terrified. To know that you will die is totally different than facing it. No one welcomes death.

But more than that, as if that isn't enough, from outside of me there came fear. Confusion. Pain. My ears ached with another cry, one not my own, one in my head and I couldn't help it, my yell grew shriller, shrieking my agony to the world. My brain felt torn apart, fire everywhere and a pain not my own pounding at me, begging me to help, to save, to make it stop.

Then they were gone. Dead. Just like the unknown boy. Just like Duo would be. Just like I would be. Frozen like snow. Glacier cold, like on top of the mountains.

I was staring Zechs in the eyes, both of us wide eyed, and in pain.

Then world went dark.

Tbc.

Now that I've fixed that I'll soon have another chapter out. I hope soon anyway, my design is due in a week and I need to get it done too! Stupid Arch. Tech.

Grr.

Hope y'all don't mind the changes, but they were needed.