Well I'm posting the second chapter anyway so enjoy
Chapter 2:
"Hey Trowa, you up yet??" Duo called as he leaned over the sleeping male. Trowa lifted his head from the pillow and stared at him.
"Well now I am..." Trowa sighed.
"Good. Quatre made breakfast." Duo laughed.
"Quatre always makes breakfast." Trowa said. Duo laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll be there in a minute..."
"Good." Duo said. He turned to go.
"Don't slam the-" Trowa was just a little too late. The door slamming gave him a bit of a headache. "Door..." Trowa could hear him yell out to the others about his success. Trowa sighed and pulled himself out of bed. For once, he really had no desire to be up.
He had dreamed last night. He rarely ever did that, or if he did, he normally didn't remember what he dreamed. Trowa dressed slowly and thought about it. He dreamt of the strangest thing; a boy he had ran into on the street the night before. He had been a pale faced boy, reminded him somewhat of Quatre with his white blonde hair and big eyes. The boy had been about their age but with a young looking face and a strange look about him. He had looked almost embarrassed that night. Why did I dream about him? Trowa asked his mind as he pulled a shirt over his head. He couldn't discover an answer and dismissed it, opening his bedroom door and going out into hall.
The meal Quatre was cooking smelled wonderful. Trowa smiled vaguely at the scent. He could see Quatre still making the last few things of it. But most of the meal was on the table. As with every Sunday morning Quatre went all out for them all. Trowa watched for a moment as Heero finished setting the table. Duo wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and tickled his neck with light kisses. Trowa could see the smile that graced the Japanese boy's face. For just a moment, Trowa felt a tinge of jealousy yank at his heart. He absently longed for a relationship like theirs but knew that none would come. Quatre was still getting over a rough relationship and Wufei probably wasn't looking for a lover. Trowa sighed solemnly and took his seat at the table.
"Good Morning Trowa." Quatre said as he looked back at him.
"Morning Quatre..." Trowa replied in his quiet voice. He rested his chin in his palm and tried to ignore the public display of affection Duo and Heero were sharing.
"Sleep well?" Quatre asked as he set a plate of waffles down in front of him.
"I suppose..." Trowa said. He was still thinking about the dream in the back of his mind.
"You look like you were sleeping fine when I went in." Duo smirked. Trowa gave him a cold glance. "Geez, you're crabby this morning."
"Well you woke me up..." Trowa said as he started to eat.
"Well I had to get you to come out for breakfast."
"You didn't have to slam the door."
"I didn't slam the door."
"Yes you did..." Trowa popped another piece of waffle into his mouth.
"No I did-" Duo was cut off by a piece of toast being pushed into his mouth. Heero smiled a bit at his face.
"Stop Duo." He said sweetly. Duo munched on the toast and frowned.
"You're no fun." Duo joked. Heero smirked some more. Duo flung a couple crumbs at him. Quatre laughed quietly into his orange juice and Trowa watched in silence, carefully sipping his tea. "Heh."
"Now stop that, you're making a mess." Heero said.
"So?" Duo laughed. More crumbs were flung and Heero began to laugh. Quatre laughed loudly and Trowa smiled so very slightly.
"Hey, quiet down!" Wufei snapped from the couch. "I'm trying to watch this!"
"Well sooooorrry." Duo snapped back. Trowa looked a bit to the side to see what Wufei was watching. A news report with a politician's face in the upper right hand corner of the screen. He heard only small phrases but the word "dead" played loudly in his ears.
"Turn that up." Trowa told Wufei. The volume increased and they could hear the rest of the announcement.
"America politician, Robert Smith was found dead in his office building earlier this morning."
"Dead?" Quatre replied with slightly round eyes. Heero and Duo both quieted and listened. Dead...why?
"Smith's personal guards were also find dead outside the office. Though local authorities have found no witnesses to these deaths, they are under the assumption that the perpetrator used a sword of some kind to complete the murders."
"A sword??" Duo looked at the others. "Who uses swords anymore?"
"Hush." Heero shushed him. Trowa folded his hands in front of his lips.
"If anyone has any information at all, please contact..." Wufei turned the volume back down and looked back at the others. His black eyes narrowed in a frustrated manner.
"Well, that's an interesting turn of events." Wufei said in his normal manner.
"The war is over." Quatre put his glass down as he spoke. "Why would a politician be killed?"
"Politicians are often killed, Quatre. There is always political unrest." Trowa said simply. But it did seem strange that a politician was murdered now that the war was over and peace was prevailing; for now at least. Again, his mind wandered over to the memory of the boy he ran into too. Why can't I get him off my mind?
"Its none of our concern." Heero said, cutting into his eggs with closed eyes. "Trowa's right. Politicians are killed all the time. Its pointless to worry about this." Trowa could detect the worry in Heero's voice, no matter how miniscule he made it.
"I guess..." Quatre said and sipped his juice again. Trowa closed his eyes for a moment and thought solemnly about it. The boy kept popping up into his thoughts; it was starting to get annoying. "Trowa? Is something wrong?" Trowa opened his eyes and looked at him.
"No." He said simply, rather coldly. They looked rather shocked at him. Trowa was never cold towards Quatre; he was one of the few people who could draw a smile out of him. Quatre looked down at his glass.
"Sorry..."
"Don't be...I'm still tired..." Trowa said, trying to make amends. He stood up and put his plate in the sink. "I'm going to take a shower to wake myself up. Thank you for breakfast Quatre." And with that, Trowa went back to the hallway, entered his room and walked slowly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He didn't hear the others talking quietly, questioning his mood this morning. Trowa heard nothing but the running water as he undressed again and stepped into the shower, to think.
Why? Why was a politician killed? Murdered with a sword without any witnesses? There's peace right now. I know that there will always be war and political unrest, but this doesn't make sense. This was completely unannounced. There was no insinuation that there could possibly be an assassination; all the politicians were getting along peacefully. Who could've done this? Again as he tried to focus on this new dilemma, that face rose in his mind. Why are you on my mind again? I don't even know you and I can't get your face out of my head. I can't forget your eyes or your hair...or the way your skin glowed...or...
Trowa shook his head quickly and turned off the water. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out and noticed his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed. He was blushing??? How could that be? Trowa had never felt the desire to blush about anything. But he was blushing, as he thought about some kid who almost knocked him over. Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me? Trowa dressed again and flopped down on his bed, stared up into his ceiling. He felt so tired still. As his eyes began to close, he wondered if he was going to dream of that boy again. It felt...kinda nice. To dream about him...
Nanashi looked over his shoulder again. It was morning, he knew it. But no one had come to wake him. He found that somewhat odd but welcomed at the same time. He always wanted to be alone after he worked. Nanashi sat up; his shoulders ached painfully. He still wasn't used to sleeping with his hands bound behind him. Even though he had slept like that for so many years.
Nanashi drew his knees to his chest, snuggled back into the corner of his bed. He felt so dirty; so very dirty. He wanted to pull his hair out, claw out his eyes. Get the vision of blood out of his head. But that was part of the reason why he was always chained. They didn't trust him by himself.
"Oh Jack..." Nanashi whispered softly. Tears threatened to fall again. "I need you so badly." He could almost imagine what Jack would say if he was sitting beside him.
"What is it Little one?" Jack would ask in a quiet voice.
"God I miss you so much. I need you."
"Tell me what's wrong Nanashi..."
"I'm so scared Jack..." Nanashi said. He could almost feel Jack's hand on his shoulder. "I don't like what they make me do...but I think..."
"What, Little one?"
"I think I'm starting to enjoy it..." Nanashi shuddered. "I don't know why...almost like a rush..."
"I see..." Jack would grow quiet. Nanashi turned, half expecting to truly see him sitting there.
"Are you disappointed in me?" he asked the wall. The wall would not answer. Nanashi realized he was hallucinating. Nanashi sighed heavily and rested his head on his knees. "Why aren't you here...where did you go? I need you so much Jack. I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm going insane."
"But you are going insane." The little voice in the back of his mind snickered. Nanashi closed his eyes. "Why else do you think you're here?"
"God go away..."
"Nanashi, I can't do that. I'm part of you." He heard it laugh, a cold laugh in his own voice.
"I don't believe you..."
"Bullshit, 'Little One.' I know why Jack left you." Nanashi said nothing. "Its because you're so weak. He got tired of trying to take care of you. That's why he abandoned you, left you for them to take in. You should be thanking them. At least they tell you they won't abandon you."
"No, they tell me I am theirs." Nanashi snapped. "I don't belong to anyone."
"But you must appreciate it. Why else do you do everything they ask," it asked in a smirking voice.
"Because I have no choice." Nanashi insisted, closing his eyes.
"You always have a choice. Admit it. You like killing things."
"I do not!!" Nanashi yelled. "I don't like killing people!! I hate it!!! I'd rather die than look at another person's blood again!!!"
"Shut up in there!!" His guard yelled at him. Nanashi looked up at the door then back down. He heard the voice laugh at him some more. He wanted it to shut up so badly.
"Then why haven't you killed yourself? If its all so horrible, why don't you just end it all? Save everyone some trouble."
"Because I can't. They won't let me..."
"You're just afraid to. Like you're afraid to run away. You're nothing but a coward. A fucking coward who's too chicken to do anything."
"Shut up..." Nanashi whispered and buried his head in his knees.
"You're a coward, a coward. You're going to go to Hell for being so weak. You're going to Hell for being such a weak and sick bastard, unwilling to risk your own damn neck to save another. You're going to suffer in Hell. Heh you're going to Hell, you're going to Hell. YOU'RE GOING TO HELL!!"
"SHUT UP!!!!!!!" Nanashi shrieked. He tried to lash out at his own doubt, almost as though it was really there. Nanashi fell off his bed, banged his head on the floor and laid there for a moment. A black veil draped over his eyes. He couldn't move anymore, hung off his bed like a rag doll. Jack spoke softly in his ear.
"Heh you're so silly sometimes Little one."
"Jack..." Nanashi whispered.
"Sleep well Little one."
"Jack...will you be here..." Nanashi mumbled. His eyes closed dizzily.
"But of course. I'll always be here." A couple tears dribbled down the side of his face as his listened to his brother's fading voice. He tried to call but he felt so tired now. "There there Little one. Its all right. There now Nanashi..."
"There." Jack set Nanashi down on the ground outside the small grocery store. He smiled down at him. "Now Nanashi, you stay here alright? I'll be out as soon I as can. I just have to discuss something with Mr. Levin."
"Ok Jack." Nanashi smiled and sat on the bench.
"Good. Now behave." He laughed.
"I will." Nanashi insisted. Jack grinned and went inside. Nanashi listened to the little chime that rang as the door opened and shut. He had always liked that sound. Nanashi swung his legs to and fro and waited. Humming softly to himself, he didn't notice the several man who surrounded the bench. He finally looked up when a shadow fall across him. They were all very tall, dressed in freshly pressed military clothes. And there were smiles on their faces but not the same kind of smile Jack had. These smiles had an eerie look to them.
"Hello there." One said to him. He put a hand on Nanashi's head. Nanashi pulled away.
"...I'm not suppose to talk to strangers..." Nanashi said quietly. They laughed; Nanashi thought there was something wrong with the laugh.
"But we're not strangers." he said to Nanashi. "We know your brother."
"You do?"
"Yeah, Jack Windsor. Bout 5'8", thin. Brown hair, blue eyes, friendly smile." he said. Nanashi felt a little worried. They knew Jack but he didn't know them. He wanted to get away from them now. "So we're not really strangers."
"...But I don't know you." Nanashi said. They frowned slightly at him. Nanashi backed away more, slid off the bench. "I'm gonna go inside..."
"Don't go, we'll wait with you. We need to talk to Jack anyway."
"N-No thank you..." Nanashi stammered and ran inside. Jack was leaning against the counter, talking to Mr. Levin in a low, serious voice. Nanashi watched for a moment. Mr. Levin listened, gray eyes glistening. He was an old man, hair as white as fresh fallen snow. He shook his head slowly as Jack spoke, serious but kind. He was one of the kindest men Nanashi and Jack had ever known but he was still a business man.
"I'm sorry Jack but you're behind on this month's payment and I can't give you food until its paid up." He said in a rather sad voice. Jack pleaded to him.
"Please, you know I'm good for it." Jack begged. "Nanashi was home sick this week and I couldn't get into work. So I didn't get paid for the week. But I swear I'll get you the money." Nanashi felt guilt tug at him. He had had a high fever for most of the week and Jack had stayed home to look after him. He hadn't realized that had put them behind on a payment. "Please, I've never asked you for this before. Just this once, Mr. Levin? Please???"
"Well..." Mr. Levin frowned slightly, thinking. Jack ran his hand through his hair. He looked down suddenly, at Nanashi who was now hugging his leg.
"Little one?? What are you doing? I thought I asked you to wait outside." Jack said. He didn't seem angry, just slightly disappointed.
"I was waiting outside...but..." Nanashi stopped and looked back to the door. Jack smiled nervously at Mr. Levin and got down on his knees.
"What is it Nanashi?" he asked. He ran a hand through Nanashi's hair to soothe him; Nanashi was shaking.
"There are men outside."
"Men?"
"Uh huh. They say they know you." Nanashi whispered timidly. Jack's eyes flickered slightly with fear.
"Know me?" Jack repeated. He looked at the window. "What do they look like?"
"They're tall, dressed really nicely, like soldiers or something. And they have creepy smiles and laughs too." Nanashi shuddered at the thought of them. Jack's eyes narrowed in anger. Nanashi wondered if he had upset him. "Jack? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Little one." Jack smiled again and hugged him. "Thank you for telling me. But tell me if see them anymore ok? They're bad people. Let me know if you see them again."
"O-Okay Jack." Nanashi tried to smile back.
"Go wait over there ok." He pointed off to a chair. Nanashi sat on it and waited. "Mr. Levin?"
"How bout a deal?" Mr. Levin said. Jack listened intently. "I'll let you go this time, but for the next," he thought for a moment. "Three weekends, you and Nanashi help out here. And we'll call it even."
"Does that sound good to you, Little one?" Jack asked. Nanashi nodded happily. He liked helping out in the store. "Then it's a deal. Thank you Mr. Levin."
"Not a problem but you don't tell anyone else I'm doing this for you two."
"Yes sir." Jack smiled and went to Nanashi. "Ok, let's head home." Nanashi climbed onto his back. "We'll see you Saturday then Mr. Levin." Jack began to leave, but not from the front door. This time, he walked through the stock room and went out the back into the alley. Now Nanashi was really worried. He looked back behind him as Jack walked through the alley. They were following them.
"Jack..." Nanashi whispered and held tightly to him. Jack looked up at him a bit.
"What is it, Little one?" Jack asked.
"They're following us..." Nanashi whispered. He could feel Jack tense up underneath him.
"Hang on Nanashi..." Jack instructed. Nanashi tightened his grip and Jack began to run.
If there was one thing Nanashi truly admired about his brother, besides his singing, it was how fast he could run. Jack was a gazelle. He could run for miles and never seem tired. He leapt over a couple fallen trash cans and turned seamlessly around the corner. Jack was so graceful when he ran. He knew the fastest way to get home and took it. They arrived home soon, and better yet, they had lost those men. Jack set Nanashi down on his bed and smiled.
"There we go." Jack smiled as he closed the blinds. Nanashi looked up at him. "You should probably take a nap. You still look like you have a slight fever."
"Aww but Jack." Nanashi whined. Jack pushed him back and tucked him in.
"No buts Little one." He laughed and ruffled his hair. "I'll check in on you later."
"Jack?" Nanashi called again when Jack was at the door.
"Yes Nanashi?"
"...Who were those men?" Nanashi asked. Jack's back muscles tightened then relaxed.
"No one to think about Little one, they won't bother you." Jack smiled at him brightly. "I promise you that."
"Okay...hey Jack?"
"What is it Little one?" Jack leaned against the door.
"You'll be here when I wake up?"
"Heh, but of course. You know I'll never leave..."
Nanashi felt something hit him hard in the ribs. He gasped loudly, eyes snapped open. He looked around frightened. His guard leered down at him, as well as the rather handsome man who's name Nanashi never learned.
"Glad you decided to wake Angra Mainyu." the handsome one smirked. Nanashi stared down into the cold floor. He mumbled softly. "What was that?"
"My name...is Nanashi." Nanashi whimpered. Another swift kick. Nanashi inhaled sharply, felt a rib crack. Panting slightly, he felt his hair being tugged.
"Angra Mainyu, remember you place." Nanashi remained silence. "That's better." The man threw the file onto Nanashi's lap. "Time for your next assignment."
"So soon?" Nanashi asked. He felt the slap and fell silent again.
"Take out the next one. You leave in five minutes."
"What time is it..." Nanashi asked as he left. He turned back, his eyes smiling amusingly at Nanashi's innocent question.
"11:00P.M. Get dressed and get going."
"Yes sir..." Nanashi watched him close the door and dressed with his back to his guard. He kept thinking about everything before he had woken. He wondered if maybe it was just simple cowardice that kept him from taking his own life. ...I really am going to go to Hell...
Quatre sighed heavily and walked down the dimly lit street. Well that was a complete failure, he thought gloomily. His date had been a complete disaster. He knew she was never going to call, like he asked her to. Quatre just knew that it was going to go badly. Every one had gone badly since he broke up with his last girlfriend not a few months ago.
"Maybe Duo's right...maybe I'm just not meant to have a girlfriend." Quatre sighed as he thought about all the jokes Duo made about his sexuality. Duo always said that he was meant to have a male lover, just like him but Quatre had never seen himself as being a homosexual. It wasn't that he didn't accept homosexuality; he did. Its just that he had never expected himself to be gay. "But with the way tonight went, I wouldn't be surprised if I am."
Quatre went over every detail in his head. The date had started off rather well. He went to her apartment to pick her up and got to meet his date's roommate. But her roommate didn't take to Quatre to well and Quatre became so nervous, he knocked over a rather expensive looking vase and had to be drag out by his date. Or else the roommate would've killed him. Just my luck, I date a girl with a homicidal friend. The car Quatre had borrowed off of Heero then got a flat only two blocks from her apartment and the two of them had to try to fix it. But of course there was no spare. So the two of them had to wait for a tow truck, which meant they missed the first showing of the movie they were going to see. They ended up walking to the theater and Quatre remembered on the way that he left his wallet on his bed, much to his date's dismay. She ended up paying for the tickets; Quatre was so embarrassed. The movie was terrible. Quatre tried to talk to her before it began and got tongue tied and spilled his drink on her dress. God I'm such an idiot. The two of them stood outside the theater for a moment or two, trying to hail a taxi. Quatre asked her to call him and she gave him such a sweet smile. God she pitied him and insisted that she'd try as she got in the taxi and drove away, leaving Quatre to wander home alone.
"Damn it, that was terrible. I screwed everything up. Maybe I should just swear off dating for awhile. Save myself from humiliating myself further." Quatre moaned to himself. He wondered what he was going to tell the others tomorrow. Duo was going to question him about the date, as he always did. And Heero was going to find out from Duo or just be in the room when Duo finally managed to drag it out of him. Wufei would act like he didn't care but Quatre bet that in his head, he would pity him. Like I want pity. Trowa would probably be the only really comforting one. But he was acting rather strange lately, almost as though he was further away from everyone than he normally was. So Quatre wasn't sure how he would act.
Maybe I'll lie and say she stood me up...Quatre thought to himself and shoved his fists in his pockets. That could work. But then they would probably wonder why it took so long for Quatre to come home. I could say I took a long walk to clear my head after she stood me up. Quatre continued to think as he passed by a young man who leaned against a wall in a hooded denim jacket. Quatre hardly noticed him until the male spoke.
"Excuse me..." He asked, looking at him from beneath his hood. Quatre jumped slightly at the sudden noise. He looked at the owner for a moment. He didn't seem to be much taller than Quatre, or much older.
"Uh, yes?" Quatre asked, trying to slow his racing heart. The person took a small step away from the wall. Quatre wished he could see his face.
"Do you have the time?" he asked. Quatre slowly lifted his sleeve and took a look down at his watch.
"Uh...its 15 minutes to midnight." Quatre said. The boy nodded.
"I see...its gotten very late..." he answered in a dreamy voice.
"Yeah, I was just heading home." Quatre said with a faint smile. "You should too. Your family is probably worried."
"...You'd think that..." he sighed. Quatre looked at him sadly.
"I'm certain they are." Quatre insisted, The boy shook his head.
"They don't care..." the male sighed. "You should head on home...before it gets too late."
"You're right..." Quatre replied. "Well, good night."
"Good night." he said quietly as Quatre walked away.
Quatre continued his long walk home. He thought briefly about his encounter with the strange youth. He seemed so sad. He truly believes that his family doesn't care? That has to be false. I really hope he gets home soon; they probably are worried about him. Quatre passed a dark park. He looked through it. If Quatre cut through the park, he would make it home faster. A good idea, he thought as he opened the gate and walked quietly across the shadow covered grounds. The wind whistled eerily through the trees, swings creaked and moaned, and the merry-go-round groaned under its own weight and spun ever so slightly. It was almost as thought the ghosts of children were playing silently in the dark. Quatre felt his pulse quicken slightly and picked up the pace. He could have sworn someone was following him. There were faint footfalls overlapping his own slightly. Quatre ran, leapt over a small bench. The footfalls came faster, heavier. Damn! This is great! My date was a total failure, I ran into the most depressing guy I've ever met and now I'm being chased. This is just great!! Quatre was pissed now. He slid to a stop and turned back. He was through running.
"Who are you!! What do you want!!" Quatre yelled. His pursuer slowed and stopped. Quatre's eyes went wide. Even without the light of the street lamps, he could see him. The same boy who asked for the time not too long ago. He stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, with a sword in his hand. The news bulletin they had seen earlier replayed in his mind. Oh Allah...it was him?? "It was you? Who...Who killed that politician?"
"Yes, I murdered him. It was so easy too." The male said. But there was no hint of amusement in his voice, or pride in his words. In fact, it was almost as if he hated himself for what he had done.
"But why?" Quatre questioned. He wished he had brought a gun.
"Because they told me too." He said simply; the sword glinted perilously in the faint moonlight that was shimmering through wispy clouds. Quatre tensed as the male stared at the ground. He spoke to himself.
"What?" Quatre asked.
"...I want to die..." he whispered.
"What?!" Quatre was shocked by the statement. He took a small step back. The boy's head shot up; Quatre saw a pair of sparkling eyes staring back at him. He froze.
"But I can't get what I want." He said quietly. Quatre could see his shaking. "I must have your blood." Quatre stepped back again. The boy rushed him.
The fight was intense. In the darkness, it was rather hard to see each other's moves. But the male's sword glistened and Quatre's hair gleamed so they kept up with one another. The fight spanned all over the playground. At one point, they were fighting on the equipment. They fought along the swings; Quatre kicked a metal swing at his attacker, who cleanly dodged it. Quatre finally managed to get a hit on him, jumped on the high side of the seesaw and sent the other end into the opponent's face. He staggered, his grip on the sword slackened. But before Quatre had a chance to use the weakness, the male recovered. He gripped Quatre's hand and threw him into the merry-go-round. Quatre winced painfully.
"Man..." Quatre moaned painfully. He felt himself being pulled up. "Ugh..."
"Good bye..." He whispered. Quatre stamped as hard as he could on the boy's foot. He howled in pain. Quatre grabbed whatever he could and pulled. The denim jacket tore; the hood fell off his face.
Quatre stared almost terrified at the face. It was like looking into his own reflection. His attacker had blonde hair, on the verge of being pure white, that fell along his face and neck. A pair of big green eyes looked at him from a pale face. He had a frail frame, as though he hadn't eaten for weeks. He gaped at his twin. The boy looked frightened. He lunged, sword first. Quatre felt it, a sharp cold pain in his chest. His eyes widened with shock and pain before drooping as a cold grip overtook his consciousness. He gripped his killer's arm, looked weakly into the face that glistened now.
"Why...why are you....crying..." Quatre gasped before he hit the cold hard ground.
Am I dead? Quatre couldn't see. Everything was cold and painful. Suddenly he heard sharp, anguish filled sobs. Is that me? Something warm pressed against his chest. Quatre welcomed it against the freezing cold. At least I won't freeze...
He was lifted. He couldn't feel the wet ground. Instead, Quatre felt the roughness of a jacket against his face and the wind whipped. around him. What's going on...where am I going? A person spoke softly, stifling sobs. Quatre opened his eyes finally, after so many moments. White light poured in. It must have been Heaven. He felt his body being laid down, heard someone's quick orders, before finally giving into the darkness.
Trowa finally woke up. He glanced over at the clock on the night table. It was only 8:00 in the morning. Trowa wondered why he was waking up. He wanted to go back to dreaming, but he knew he couldn't. Trowa reluctantly got out of bed and dressed, running a comb through his hair before walking out into the hall.
No one else was up. Trowa could hear the faint breathing from Heero and Duo's room. And the mumbling Wufei often made as he slept. Trowa sighed heavily and looked towards the empty kitchen. Quatre isn't here? That's strange. Trowa frowned slightly and made himself some tea. It seemed strange that Quatre wasn't bustling around the kitchen, whistling Scarborough Faire as he cooked. Trowa looked to the hooks on the wall; Quatre's jacket wasn't even there. Neither were his shoes. Did he even come home last night?? Trowa wondered absently if something had happened to him but thought better of it. Hand to hand combat wasn't Quatre's specialty but he could handle himself well enough. Trowa sank onto a couch and sipped the hot tea. Perhaps Quatre had spent the night at his date's, "got lucky" as Duo liked to joke. Trowa sighed heavily at the thought and laid his head back against the throw pillow on the couch.
Trowa must have dozed off. His tea was still in his hands, but it was much colder. Trowa scowled at it and set it on the coffee table. He held a hand over his eyes for a moment and rested again. The phone started ringing. Trowa groaned loudly and fumbled to find the phone by the couch. His hand knocked the receiver off. Trowa cursed quietly and picked it up, hand still over his eyes.
"Hello?" Trowa asked, still fighting off sleep.
"Listen and do not talk..." A young voice spoke over the phone. Trowa opened his eyes slightly. The hell?
"Who the hell is this?" Trowa asked.
"There is little time. Do not talk. Quatre Winner has been stabbed-"
"What?!" Trowa sat up right, knocked his tea over. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"...Do not talk." the voice said again. "He has been stabbed. He is in the hospital three blocks from the theater he went to last night on his date. Go and see him."
"Who is this!? How do you know this?!" Trowa snapped.
"Go and see him. He is out of surgery and sleeping now." The voice continued quietly. Trowa thought he heard a slight sob from him.
"Who are you? What have you done??" Trowa demanded.
"...They're expecting you." He said softly. Trowa heard a soft click and a dial tone. He cursed loudly and slammed the phone down. He had to go find out if Quatre was alright. He had too. Trowa didn't even bother to wake the others; he left them a note. Trowa read it over once or twice.
Guys,
Quatre's in the hospital, three blocks from the theater. Going to see if he's alright. Meet you there
Trowa
Probably the vaguest note I ever wrote. Oh well. Trowa left it on the table where he was certain they would see it. He yanked his jacket on and fumbled to pull his shoes on. Finally managing to tie them, he went out the front door, not caring if slamming the door behind him had woken anyone. The car was there but there was a flat. Trowa cursed fate violently and grab his motorcycle instead. He didn't bother with the helmet, just left it on the back as he revved the engine and sped out of the driveway.
Trowa played the phone call in his head as he drove to the hospital in the town. Quatre Winner has been stabbed. He's at the hospital three blocks from the theater. They're expecting you. Trowa cursed under his breathe and sped on. Who the fuck was that? Trowa thought furiously. How did he know that Quatre was in the hospital with a stab wound...unless he was the one who did it. But then why the hell did he call me? Killer's remorse? Trowa's eyes narrowed against the biting wind. Well whoever it is, if he was the one who hurt Quatre, he's gonna die. I'll promise him that.. Trowa ran a red light without realizing it, almost got ran over by a truck. The driver flipped him off as he sped away. Trowa didn't care, was merely somewhat thankful that no cops had pulled him over. A few more moments of driving and he saw the hospital parking lot. He parked as close as he could and sprinted to the entrance. The nurse behind the desk looked at him wide eyed as he leaned against the desk, panting.
"I'm...here to see someone..." Trowa gasped as he tried to catch his breath.
"...Name?" the nurse asked cautiously. Trowa took a couple deep breathes and straightened up.
"Quatre Winner. He may have been brought in last night?" Trowa tried to keep his voice calm. The nurse smiled very slightly.
"Ah yes, he's been out of surgery for a few hours. Are you family?"
"Yes." Trowa lied. "Please, I have to see him."
"Alright, alright, he's on the third floor-" the nurse said. She seemed a little frustrated at Trowa's insistence. Trowa thanked her quickly and headed off before she could finish her sentence. He ran up the stairs to the next floor before realizing he had no idea what room he was looking for. Trowa turned about quickly. Just my luck. Now I'm lost. Fuck.
"Excuse me sir?" A young nurse, rather pretty with her brunette hair and bluish eyes, smiled up at him. Trowa stepped back slightly in surprise. "Are you lost?"
"Uh...yeah." Trowa admitted, a small flush of embarrassment painting his cheeks. "I'm looking for someone brought last night? Blonde, teenager? He was stabbed?"
"Oh yes, him. 311, down the hall." She pointed to the left, behind him. Trowa thanked her quickly and ran down the hall. He looked at the numbers for a moment. 308, 309, 310, 311! Trowa found it. He slid to a stop by the closed door and threw it open, hoping to see his comrade sitting up, smiling at him with that gentle smile.
"Quatre!" Trowa gasped. Then caught himself. He looked about the room for a moment with slightly wider eyes.
The room was warm, painted in a bright whitish blue color. There was a large window on the wall directly across from him that brightened the already luminescent room. A table with wilted daisies stood in front of the window, beside a couple machines that beeped solemnly and an I.V. But that is not what surprised him. What truly surprised him was that he was in the wrong room.
Quatre was not the one laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines and breathing softly. It was a man, probably in his mid twenties. He had a thin face, sunken and sickly white in color. The man's hair had not been cut for some time. It fell along the pillows in a depressing fashion. He breathed softly, some what shallow and never moved. What a depressing scene, Trowa thought absently, for a room that is so bright.
"Oh gosh, I am so sorry, Sir." The same young nurse came running up beside him. Trowa looked at her with a slightly confused face.
"I'm in the wrong room." Trowa said in an almost child like manner. She nodded swiftly and bowed.
"I'm so sorry. I meant to say 211. But I was coming here anyway and I just said 311. I'm so very sorry."
"Its alright. An honest mistake." Trowa replied. He moved out of her way. The nurse ambled across the room to the wilting flowers and replaced them. Trowa turned to go before he heard her speak.
"And how are you this morning?" She asked. For a moment Trowa thought she was talking to him.
"Who, me??" Trowa looked back. The nurse turned and laughed brightly. She had a lovely laugh.
"Oh no, I'm sorry. I was talking to John Doe."
"John Doe?" Trowa repeated awkwardly. She nodded and gestured to the sleeping man.
"Yes, our residential John Doe." She smiled sadly at the man. Trowa recognized the term.
"John Doe. You don't know who he is?"
"No. He was just dropped off here." she sighed. "We don't know his name or his age. Or where he comes from or what happened to him. So we all just call him John Doe."
"But he must have told you his name." Trowa said. The idea that they had no idea who this man was seemed insane to him. The nurse looked at him surprised.
"How can he? He's been a coma for eight years." This fact didn't sit well in Trowa's stomach.
"Eight years???"
"Yes...he's never woken up." She brushed a couple strands of hair out of the man's face. "But I don't have the heart to let the doctors pull the plug on him. He's such a good and sweet patient." She smiled a bit more. Trowa leaned against the door frame, entranced by her words. "There are so many doctors and nurses here, it got to the point that sometimes I would have nothing to do. But now, I take care of him. I love to take care of John Doe." Fluffing the pillows, she looked back at Trowa. "He's such a good listener. And he's so sweet. And he has such wonderful tastes."
"How can you tell if he has never woken?"
"Just because he hasn't woken up doesn't mean he isn't responsive. Quite the opposite. He is very responsive." The nurse grinned. "I know that he prefers the color red over yellow and he enjoys the smell of lilac. And he has wonderful taste in music."
"Really..." Trowa frowned very slightly. The nurse nodded and went to a small tape player. She took a moment to rewind the tape then pressed play. A very gentle melody played on a flute and violin filled the room. Trowa recognized it as a song he could play rather well. "'Green Sleeves' ?"
"Yes. I love this song. I play it often for him." She said with a happy sigh. "He loves it too."
Trowa looked at the John Doe. For a moment, he could see no visible change. But then, the man's breathing evened out. He was relaxed. His face grew more and more pleased as he smiled ever so slightly in his comatose state. Lips parting slightly, it was almost as though he sighed, as if recalling a happy memory. Trowa found the whole thing quite extraordinary.
"You see?"
"I do..."
"I play this song for him often." She continued to arrange the new daisies. "He loves it so." I can tell. Trowa enjoyed the melody himself. He does have good taste. "The room you're looking for is 211." She repeated. The nurse bowed to him. "Again, I'm terribly sorry for the mix up."
"Its alright. Thank you." Trowa said once more. He turned and began to walk out. Taking one more look at the John Doe, he went back down the hall, leaving the nurse to tend to him in peace.
Trowa walked back down the hall, heading towards Quatre's room. He ran a hand absently along the wall, listened to the sounds of his own footsteps echo. The worry that he had forgotten was coming back. He hoped desperately that Quatre was alright. He quickened his pace a little and stared at the floor. He suddenly felt a little sick. It must have been from the worry.
For the second time in a few days, Trowa ran into someone. They bumped shoulders; neither of them had been paying attention. Trowa rubbed his shoulder slightly. The other ignored the small pain he must have been feeling. He was dressed in a black jacket, face hidden under a hood.
"Sumimasen..." The hooded one whispered. He wasn't Japanese. He had no Japanese accent and stumbled slightly with the pronunciation. He didn't look up at Trowa as he excused himself.
"Its ok...I wasn't paying attention." Trowa said quietly. The person nodded and continued down the hall. Watching the boy leave for a moment, Trowa wondered if he had seen him before. Something about that guy seems familiar. But Trowa soon forgot about it and headed closer to the room. The door was open and he peeked his head in. It was much like the John Doe's room: a bright cheery color with a large window. Quatre was lying in bed, still asleep from the anesthetic. But he seemed well. There was color in his cheeks and his breathing seemed normal. Trowa released a relieved sigh and sank into a chair in the corner. He watched Quatre sleep for a quite a while till he noticed the table beside the bed.
For on the table was a vase with 13 roses. 13 absolutely perfect roses. Not small buds but not yet entirely bloomed, they sat in a glass vase in front of the window. Trowa wondered absently who had left them there and rose to examine them. They were of varying colors, starting out yellow on the outer rim then changing to a pink and then darker shades of reds. Trowa was amazed that someone had taken the time to arrange them in such a creative and beautiful way. He cocked his head to one side and examined the center rose. It was much longer than the others and the same color as a human's blood. Absently, he picked it out of the vase and breathed in its glorious bouquet. It was so close to his face as he experienced its scent that he felt the rose's velvety touch on lips. The petals were slightly damp. Trowa licked his lips slowly; the liquid was warm and salty. Tears? Trowa asked himself in silence. He spun the flower slowly in his fingers. Why would a rose be damp with tears? There were so many questions because of these roses. Trowa looked down slightly and saw a small white envelope resting on the table.
Curiosity overtook him and he picked it up in his free hand. Typically, it was against Trowa's nature to invade another's privacy. And these were Quatre's roses. But something in his heart told him to take a look. He shouldn't mind...and if he does, I'll apologize up and down for invading his privacy. Trowa opened the envelope and pulled a small letter out. Two photos fell out of the letter. One was of Quatre, with a red slash across it. The other was of Wufei. That's odd... Trowa looked down at the letter. It was short, hand written. There were tears stains on it; they smudged the ink but Trowa was able to make out the words.
I'm so very sorry...Please kill me
Trowa stared blankly at the plea. Whoever sent these wanted to die. Trowa sat down in the chair again, reading the note over and over, still spinning the rose in his hand. Who sent these? Was it the same person who tried to kill Quatre? Most likely...but this request. He wants Quatre to kill him? Maybe he's just trying to trick us into thinking that he's truly remorseful. People can be sick like that.
Trowa's cell phone started ringing suddenly. It startled Trowa greatly, forcing him to drop the rose and the note. Trowa fished the phone out of this pocket, juggling it slightly. He dropped it and cursed himself. Don't hang up, don't hang up!! It was probably one of the guys.
"Hello?" Trowa gasped when he finally managed to get the damn thing open. Duo's voice yelled into his ear. He held the phone away from his head, wincing slightly.
"What the fuck is up with the note you left!!" Duo hissed into the phone. Trowa blinked and tried to get the ringing in his ears to stop. Duo continued to yell. Trowa growled softly.
"Duo shut up for five minutes!" Trowa snapped angrily. There was a brief muffled conversation on the other side of the phone.
"Trowa, what's going on?" Heero asked. He sounded somewhat angry but at least he wasn't yelling. Duo yelled something in the background and Heero yelled back. "He has a point." Heero said when he returned to the phone. "That note didn't do shit to explain what's going on."
"Its fairly self explanatory." Trowa sighed and set his elbows on his knees. "Quatre got stabbed and went to the hospital. I'm here now with him."
"Well how did it happen?"
"How should I know? I haven't asked."
"Well why not!!" Duo yelled in the background. Trowa ran his fingers through his hair.
"Because he's not awake yet." Trowa sighed. Heero yelled at Duo to shut up and went back to the phone.
"But he's alive?" Heero asked.
"Yeah, I don't think he's in critical condition. He's living and breathing on his own. Whoever brought him here must have done it before it got too serious." Trowa looked at the floor for a moment. He picked up the rose and went back to looking at it.
"Well that's good. If he's not in critical condition, then he should be able to come home soon."
"Yeah, I'll bring him home when he wakes up." Trowa said.
"Alright, you do that. We'll see you when you get home."
"Okay..." Trowa was becoming engrossed in the rose again.
"And Trowa?" Heero said before getting ready to hang up.
"Hm?"
"Next time, wake someone up." Heero sighed.
"Will do..." Trowa said, half there when Heero hung up the phone. Trowa closed his cell and put it back into his pocket. He studied the rose for so long. Trowa's eyes never left its form until he hear a small noise come from Quatre.
"Trowa..." Quatre looked at him hazily. Trowa looked up and smiled slightly.
"Quatre." He got up and crossed to the bed. He sat on the edge of it. "How you feeling?"
"...How'd I get here?" Quatre asked.
"I don't really know." Trowa admitted. "I just got a phone call this morning saying you were stabbed and brought here."
"That's right...I was stabbed...by that guy." Quatre's eyes went a little round as he spoke.
"What guy?" Trowa asked. Quatre looked at him.
"The same one who killed the politician." Quatre answered. Trowa said nothing. He soaked in Quatre's words. The same person who had killed the politician had tried to kill Quatre. Which made Trowa wonder if this person knew about who they were. They had done a fairly good job at keeping their status as Gundam pilots and their gundams secret. So how does this guy know? What kind of information does he have on us? Quatre was looking around the room as Trowa mused.
"Hey Trowa?" Quatre asked as his gaze fell on the roses.
"Yeah?"
"The roses. Did you get them for me?" He asked. Trowa couldn't lie to him.
"Sorry Quatre, but it wasn't me..."
"Oh...they're nice."
"Yeah..." Trowa said solemnly. He wasn't planning on showing the letter to Quatre just yet. At least not until he had a better understanding of what had happened and what was going on. Quatre looked at him, some what worried. "What?"
"You ok?"
"Yeah I'm fine." Trowa said with another vague smile. "You should be more worried about yourself."
"I feel ok..." Quatre smiled and sat up a bit. Trowa got off the bed.
"Okay, well I'll go find a doctor to check you out and then we'll head home."
"Alright." Quatre said. He reached over and took a rose from the vase and looked at it. He didn't notice the pictures on the table. Trowa thanked god quietly for that and headed to the door, kicking the letter under the chair as he went. He pushed his hand in his pocket and clutched the blood red rose, looking for a doctor so he and Quatre could go home.
okay so there's the second chapter. please review i want the feedback