Chapter 3
All five, together, at close range. Every time a Gundam was hit the pain ripped through his body, a crippling reminder that they were all there, all fighting. Duo took a double rocket blast to the back, the impact throwing Deathscythe forward, crashing along the pavement. Quatre slammed into Sandrock's controls. The handles dug into his ribs, starting deep bruises. He felt Altron's leg buckle as Wufei let out a cry of revenge, twisting to spear the attacking suit with his thermal staff. The ache of Trowa's right hand, always a problem in battle, throbbed through thin white fingers.
An enemy suit crashed into Sandrock from the side, dragging them both to the ground. Quatre opened his shoulder guns and fired at close range. The suit exploded, bringing another wave of pain, even as Heero was struck by a canon blast.
Quatre's entire world blazed with agony, his own mixed indistinguishably with that of his allies. Every nerve was screaming for release. His battered body curled up in the crooked seat as his mind ordered it to move, to ignore the searing fire as he always did.
Over the com-link he vaguely heard Duo asking if he was all right, and knew he could not help his friends in this state.
With agonizing effort, he reached one crippled hand toward the control panel, and haltingly pressed four buttons. . . . Z . . . E . . . R . . . O.
The world vanished in a flash of light, and as Quatre opened his dazzled eyes the pain was gone.
As another suit attacked the fallen Sandrock, he rose to renew the battle.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Five Gundams stood among the wreckage that had once been an OZ mobile suit factory.
"Jeeze, Quatre. What did they do to you?" Duo whistled at the ravaged state of his friend's mobile suit and winced as the movement tugged his split lip. "Didn't you even try to dodge?"
Quatre laughed sweetly, "Yes, Duo."
"Let's get back to base." Heero's monotone command seemed a bit harsher than usual, but the other pilots obeyed without a word, instantly launching their machines into the pale sky.
When they touched down, Heero was the first out of his Gundam. In the hanger they always seemed to line up in the numerical order of their colonies. It was merely an act of the subconscious, but they found themselves repeating it time and time again, a bit of consistency in lives devoid of such. This meant Heero was the first to shut down, with the last being Wufei. The Japanese boy grabbed Wing's zip cord and stiffly sank to the floor. It had been a long hard battle, and none of them were in particularly good shape. He set off in a light limp down the hanger as the other suits powered down. Duo was stiffly climbing down from the cockpit holding his battered ribs as Trowa and Quatre opened their hatches. He was still a long way off when the Arab jumped neatly to the floor, landing with his usual precision.
Something felt very wrong and Heero quickened his pace. The blonde's movements contrasted with his Gundam's appearance too sharply, and the gray sheen Heero had witnessed to his friend's eyes during battle was unmistakable.
Quatre stood quickly and gazed up to Heavyarms's cockpit, smiling easily. Suddenly, as Heero watched, too far away to do anything else, the blond stiffened, swayed on his feet, and collapsed.
'Damn.' Heero broke into a run, hearing startled exclamations from Duo and Wufei. Trowa landed in front of him, meeting the metal floor without his ordinary grace, and knelt beside his fallen lover. As Heero approached, he could hear the lanky pilot's ever-subdued voice.
"Quatre . . . Quatre, can you hear me? Angel . . ." Heero stopped just behind Trowa, breathless. He couldn't see any serious injuries on the blonde's thin frame, but that didn't mean anything. A thin sheen of red tinged the unusually pale lips and a mirroring smudge stained one shirt cuff. Heero scowled.
"Koi . . . come back." Receiving no response, Trowa turned his emerald gaze suspiciously up to Heero. "What happened?" His voice never shifted from a soft monotone, but Heero was shocked by the force behind it.
"The ZERO system." Trowa's visible eye widened slightly at that, but he turned back to the still form in his arms, masking any other reaction. He stood, lifting his koi gently, and strode from the hanger, leaving the other pilots to trail behind.
* * *
All five, together, at close range. Every time a Gundam was hit the pain ripped through his body, a crippling reminder that they were all there, all fighting. Duo took a double rocket blast to the back, the impact throwing Deathscythe forward, crashing along the pavement. Quatre slammed into Sandrock's controls. The handles dug into his ribs, starting deep bruises. He felt Altron's leg buckle as Wufei let out a cry of revenge, twisting to spear the attacking suit with his thermal staff. The ache of Trowa's right hand, always a problem in battle, throbbed through thin white fingers.
An enemy suit crashed into Sandrock from the side, dragging them both to the ground. Quatre opened his shoulder guns and fired at close range. The suit exploded, bringing another wave of pain, even as Heero was struck by a canon blast.
Quatre's entire world blazed with agony, his own mixed indistinguishably with that of his allies. Every nerve was screaming for release. His battered body curled up in the crooked seat as his mind ordered it to move, to ignore the searing fire as he always did.
Over the com-link he vaguely heard Duo asking if he was all right, and knew he could not help his friends in this state.
With agonizing effort, he reached one crippled hand toward the control panel, and haltingly pressed four buttons. . . . Z . . . E . . . R . . . O.
The world vanished in a flash of light, and as Quatre opened his dazzled eyes the pain was gone.
As another suit attacked the fallen Sandrock, he rose to renew the battle.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Five Gundams stood among the wreckage that had once been an OZ mobile suit factory.
"Jeeze, Quatre. What did they do to you?" Duo whistled at the ravaged state of his friend's mobile suit and winced as the movement tugged his split lip. "Didn't you even try to dodge?"
Quatre laughed sweetly, "Yes, Duo."
"Let's get back to base." Heero's monotone command seemed a bit harsher than usual, but the other pilots obeyed without a word, instantly launching their machines into the pale sky.
When they touched down, Heero was the first out of his Gundam. In the hanger they always seemed to line up in the numerical order of their colonies. It was merely an act of the subconscious, but they found themselves repeating it time and time again, a bit of consistency in lives devoid of such. This meant Heero was the first to shut down, with the last being Wufei. The Japanese boy grabbed Wing's zip cord and stiffly sank to the floor. It had been a long hard battle, and none of them were in particularly good shape. He set off in a light limp down the hanger as the other suits powered down. Duo was stiffly climbing down from the cockpit holding his battered ribs as Trowa and Quatre opened their hatches. He was still a long way off when the Arab jumped neatly to the floor, landing with his usual precision.
Something felt very wrong and Heero quickened his pace. The blonde's movements contrasted with his Gundam's appearance too sharply, and the gray sheen Heero had witnessed to his friend's eyes during battle was unmistakable.
Quatre stood quickly and gazed up to Heavyarms's cockpit, smiling easily. Suddenly, as Heero watched, too far away to do anything else, the blond stiffened, swayed on his feet, and collapsed.
'Damn.' Heero broke into a run, hearing startled exclamations from Duo and Wufei. Trowa landed in front of him, meeting the metal floor without his ordinary grace, and knelt beside his fallen lover. As Heero approached, he could hear the lanky pilot's ever-subdued voice.
"Quatre . . . Quatre, can you hear me? Angel . . ." Heero stopped just behind Trowa, breathless. He couldn't see any serious injuries on the blonde's thin frame, but that didn't mean anything. A thin sheen of red tinged the unusually pale lips and a mirroring smudge stained one shirt cuff. Heero scowled.
"Koi . . . come back." Receiving no response, Trowa turned his emerald gaze suspiciously up to Heero. "What happened?" His voice never shifted from a soft monotone, but Heero was shocked by the force behind it.
"The ZERO system." Trowa's visible eye widened slightly at that, but he turned back to the still form in his arms, masking any other reaction. He stood, lifting his koi gently, and strode from the hanger, leaving the other pilots to trail behind.
* * *
