Disclaimers: Don't own Gundam Wing. Don't own idea. Just writing the fic.

Yay! End of this little fic. Squiggly thing's a line break. Still. Yes, you have to deal with it for one whole more chapter.

-BEGIN FIC-

He slowly faded in and out of his dreamlike state, the world black then hazy then black again before his staring eyes. His blood burned in his veins, searing next to icy cold flesh that was overrun with beaded sweat droplets and goose bumps. His breath erupted into his lungs in short, harsh bursts, each gulp of the atmosphere's sweet, pollen-laced mix scraping roughly down his dry throat. His heart pounded violently in his ears, every beat fast and strong and flooded with panic as it raced like a beaten horse straining for the end of its life-determining race.

Then all came to a stop.

Vision swirling, Quatre's mind seeped in the dance of colors that splayed itself across its surface, watching image after image swell forth from the confusing array of light and sound. He watched himself – no, her – as Heero enveloped his arms around him/her. He stared as they whispered proclamations of love to one another, cradled in one another's embrace, head resting upon shoulder and hearts beating as one. A moment, a breadth of immeasurable time in the span of eternity, a lifetime of thoughts and dreams and desires and emotion rocketed by at light speed, each precious vision held by tenuous strings of barely recalled reality to Quatre's consciousness. He watched his life – her life – play itself out before his eyes; a life filled with love and happiness, with warmth and companionship, without a care save for ensuring the happiness of self and family. A life he wished desperately to return to, a life he longed to experience in this day and age, a life he would give anything to reclaim.

His memory swam in fond recollections of days spent by the lake that was enveloped by the lands Heero Yuy tended over a millennia ago. His skin blushed at the ghostly reminiscence of gentle touches, of teasing caresses, of tight embraces, of tender kisses and soft attentions. His heart staggered a step as the warmth of a love not ever known by his modern mind filled it once more, carrying upon it the whispers of promises to continue that love for all of eternity.

He shivered as he heard the ghost's voice, ever familiar and strangely calming, call his name almost in panic.

He tried to reach out to the specter, but found himself unable to move. His eyes registered naught but the black cast upon them by his eyelids even as the thudding of his heart faded from his ears, his cooled skin losing the flush his memories and his realization that it was a past love that held him now had brought to it.

Quatre lost all awareness of the world as his last breath left his body, leaving him laying lifeless in the plains just outside of town.

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Beep.

A small whimper made its way from the depths of his throat.

Beep.

The loud noise was hurting his ears.

Beep.

Slowly opening his eyes, he glanced about himself to attempt to locate the source of that harsh, loud beeping noise.

Quatre slowly came to realize that the beeping that had echoed in his aching skull was the beep of a cardiograph that was stationed beside his bed. His eyes traced the wires that drooped from the plugs in the front of the machine to find the suction cups that were firmly taped to his skin, their touch unfelt until his vision confirmed their existence.

The scent of medicated, stale air leaked into his lungs, seeping past the feeding and air tubes that were eased into his body through his nostrils. Slowly clenching his hand, he winced as he felt the presence of an IV needle shift in his thin veins.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep, calming breath.

He was in a hospital. Someone had found him out in that field. After that….

After THAT had occurred.

He still didn't know what to think about the encounter. A part of his mind was screaming fervently that such an encounter could never have taken place and that ghosts simply didn't exist. The rest of his mind retorted violently, screeching that he had not only been spoken to by the roving spirit but had been touched – embraced – by it. It simply had to be a real encounter that part of his mind rationalized, or he wouldn't be in possession of the memories that now raced through his skull.

Quatre sighed as those memories danced before his closed eyes once more.

How could he have recollections of her life?

Why had they only surfaced now?

Was it part of some near-death experience?

Was it all a fantasized story brought on by his attack and by his nearly morbid fascination with the tale of Heero Yuy and Katrina?

Or was all of it real?

He shivered as he pondered that last question.

If it was real, that would mean that he was….

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Quatre calmly walked towards the small shack, having finally convinced the doctor that ran the small hospital that he was more than well enough to be discharged from its confines. Lifting a hand, he lightly rasped on the door.

"Yes?" a voice leaked from the darkness within, seeping past the closed orifice.

"I wanted to thank you," Quatre humbly muttered to the door, closing his eyes. "The town's doctor told me that you were the one who brought me in."

The door swung open, revealing the young dark-blonde haired woman. A faint smile marked her lips. "No need to thank me, sir."

"How did you know to look for me?" Quatre asked quietly, opening his eyes to regard the woman before him. "After all, Miss Relena, I never told you of my plans to confront that spirit."

"I figured you'd attempt something. I wanted to accompany you… to help."

"Do you know how to free him?" the young man asked solemnly, his voice tired.

"I might, but I'm not certain it would actually work. It's a spell that would free him from the castle, but he'd be left without guidance even after he'd be released, so I'm certain it wouldn't do any good without him having a guide," Relena admitted with a sigh. "But I wanted to meet this ghost face to face. So very few actually see him in passing, much less see him regularly. Most of those who witness his existence see him once, or simply hear his sighs and cries for Katrina upon the wind."

"I see," Quatre blandly snorted.

"Oh please, don't take such a tone with me," the young woman playfully said with a grin. "But after I found you weren't home," she began anew, reverting to the subject previously touched upon, "I started towards the castle. I figured you'd want to find him and resolve this 'haunting' issue yourself."

"Pun intended?"

"Not really," she said with a chuckle. "So, you did see him? Is that what made you…"

"No. I have those attacks regularly. I doubt seeing him is what made me collapse."

"So you DID see him!" she excitedly proclaimed. "Oh, that's simply wonderful! It means that there still might be a chance for me to see him myself! Maybe I should head to the castle tonight, yes? His spiritual energy might still be strong enough for him to be visible, seeing as how it's still so close to the date on which he normally appears!"

"Yeah…." Quatre softly whispered, his eyes closing as memories of a life long over passed before his vision.

Relena regarded him curiously as his cheeks lighted with a faint blush.

"Yeah."

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It wasn't until that night that Quatre realized just how empty and quiet the house he was sharing with Trowa truly was.

He was quite accustomed to his companion not being present when he returned to the house they referred to as home. Even now that he knew the reasoning behind Trowa's absence, he didn't press the issue. After all, they weren't married and by all legal right never could be. He felt he had no real place to regulate Trowa's life.

It wasn't until that night that Quatre felt pain in his heart when thoughts of Trowa crossed his mind.

He had wanted love in his life so terribly he could taste it with every passing moment. His personality drove most suitors away, his biting cynicism and overly analytical view of all that passed before him too harsh and overbearing for most men he found himself interested in to take. His bitterness and sarcasm kept women at bay. His violent mood swings and stress-driven insults drove away those who could manage to find their way around the acid personality that took root in his scientifically questionable soul. His loneliness only served to heighten his anger and caustic disregard of care for those people who surrounded him, resulting in a seemingly never ending cycle of tears and denial.

He'd thrown himself blindly into Trowa's arms at his first opportunity, taking the man's fascination with him as being the closest semblance to love a person such as himself could ever manage to find. It was empty and one way, Trowa's caring for him being deep and true but not being the all intensive fantasy that Quatre had always envisioned love as being and his own opinion of Trowa placing him upon a veritable pedestal, untouchable and untamable. He'd been dreaming that the man truly loved him, wanting and praying for it to be so, realizing only with his discovery of Trowa's true reasons for coming to the European continent that while he perhaps was not a tool or a means to an end that he was not Trowa's ideal partner.

It wasn't until that night that Quatre cried himself to sleep, his mind seeping in the inadequacies of his current life and wishing he could return to the arms of the true love his spirit had once known.

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Quatre awoke when he was gently shaken. Lifting his gaze, he blinked, staring vaguely at his brunette lover. "Trowa?" he quietly whispered, rubbing a sleep-glazed eye.

"Yes, Quatre. It's me," he softly replied, gently gathering the frail blonde into his arms.

A small frown marked the diminutive man's lips. "Why are you here? Why aren't you off with your Silvia?"

Trowa winced visibly.

"I figured that's why you wanted to come to Germany. She's the woman you met online, isn't she?"

Bowing his head, Trowa frowned. "It's not what it seems. We're not going to delve into anything serious."

"You just felt like coming to Germany to meet an internet friend?" Quatre softly stated, his voice neither forgiving nor accusatory.

"Quatre, you need the relaxation. And I figured-"

"This would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone?"

Trowa's mouth opened as he apparently wished to say something, then closed helplessly as no single word could make it from his whirring mind to pass his lips.

"It's alright, Trowa," Quatre said quietly as he backed out of Trowa's arms, taking note that it was well past dawn, the sun having risen quite high into the sky and the morning racket the birds by the lake usually rocketed with to claim their daytime territories had long since fallen into nearly uninterrupted silence. "It's alright."

"You're accusing me of-"

"Nothing," Quatre interrupted, shaking his head. "Maybe you and I just weren't meant to be. Maybe coming here was the right thing to happen; maybe we were meant to come, so you could meet with your future while I could meet my past and experience what I truly have desired my entire life."

Trowa stared, his green eyes huge as the blonde smiled beatifically and made his way towards the door. "Quatre…."

"Stay, Trowa. Leave me be. As you seek the love you long for, I seek the love I lost."

"What do you mean? You're talking madness!" Trowa blurted.

"Madness?" Quatre softly whispered, one brow arching over an eye.

"Yes. This ghost… this haunting… it's killing you. It's killing you in body and mind," Trowa mourned.

"Perhaps. But this ghost is part of me. This haunting is part of my life. It is my life. It's calling me to return to what I lost, to find happiness in its arms and love in its kiss. And if it's driving you mad to watch me slip into this apparent madness you accuse me of…"

Trowa blinked, guarding his reaction as Quatre scrutinized him for any movement.

"Leave me to this haunting, Trowa. Leave me to my shades. Find your life, and leave me to find mine, to find the one I lost and desire to return to."

His hands dropping to his side, Trowa found himself unable to move a single step as the blonde slipped away, his purposeful step carrying him out the door and bearing towards the towering ruins of the town's crumbled castle of days long past.

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Quatre calmly stood before the ruined castle, his eyes half opened as he took in the magnificence of the stone structure. Turning on his heel, he stared down the path that lead towards the plains that surrounded the house he had shared with Trowa and the village that rested beyond.

'I'm here, as you want. I'm here as I wish to be. I've finally found the courage to walk down this road.'

'I'm finally ready to follow this path.'

He shivered as he felt soft fingers caress his cheek, felt his heart leap within his chest and pound violently through his memory-laden skull. Closing his eyes fully, he sighed quietly. "Heero, I'm no longer Katrina. You know that. You can sense that. You can see that."

Quatre was not surprised when he heard the soft, masculine voice whisper in his ear, "I am aware."

"Then why do you do this?" the blonde softly asked, eyes still closed, kneeling down to seat himself as his worn heart skipped a beat, the medication he'd been prescribed to assist his condition having long since worn out of his bloodstream, leaning his face towards the soft, persistent touch.

"Your soul is the same."

"Even though I'm Quatre, and not Katrina?"

"I still love you."

"Our souls are bound together, aren't they?"

"For eternity."

"I want to join you."

When no word met his ears, Quatre cracked open one eye and turned his head. He stared into the sad Prussian blue eyes, letting the frown his lips desired to form fall upon them.

"That doesn't please you, Heero?"

"You seek to end your life? To banish yourself to the fires your religion believes await those who take God's role and destroy his most precious gift?"

A quiet laugh leaked from the blonde, its tone weak and weary. "I don't have to. It will end of its own accord."

'Isn't that what you said, Relena? You could free him, but he'd be left without guidance even after he'd be released? Then maybe I could… and maybe we'd both finally be free of our sorrow, of our wailing and longings, free to have the happiness we were both robbed of by the passing of time. I know you're down that path and that you're there watching, young witch. Please, have the mercy to allow him follow….'

"But when I do pass," Quatre softly whispered, his breath slowly leaving him as his racing heart staggered in its rapid run, "promise me that you'll follow me."

"Follow…?"

"Follow me."

The ghostly young man laid beside the blonde as he crumpled to the ground. Reaching tenuously, he laid his shaking hand upon Quatre's brow, tears forming in long dead eyes as the slowly cooling flesh's receding warmth caressed his spirit.

Heero slowly stood, and stared.

White wings spreading wide, their brilliance blinding and so bright that they lit the land about them as the sun's kiss would, a gentle smile found its way towards the small spirit. And as Heero stared, the sweet voice softly whispered in his mind, 'Follow me. The promenade to fate awaits.'

"Alright."

fin