Standard disclaimers apply. Please don't sue me.

ADVANCED APOLOGY: GOMEN MINNA! I WON'T BE ABLE TO UPDATE FOR A WHILE. I JUST CAME BACK FROM A MEETING AND FOUND OUT THAT SK OFFICIALS OF OUR CITY (I'M OBVIOUSLY ONE) ARE REQUIRED TO ATTEND A 5-DAY SEMINAR IN A FARAWAY PLACE (BAGUIO). THAT'S IT. SEE Y'ALL NEXT WEEK! (I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED WRITING CHAPTER 7 YET...)

My goal in life is to write the angstiest fic that would make even me cry. Whee!

Out of the Sea

By Ninetails

Chapter 6

He walked down the middle of the walkway, toward the dais where the symbol of the Light was etched, a white flame on a gold background. He stared at his soon to be bonded as the man stood beside Master Padan. He smiled at him, and the gesture sent shivers up Quatre's spine. He prayed that the Light would have mercy and strike him dead before he reached them.


"Heero!" Quatre shouted as loud as he could, panic lacing his voice.

When there was no reply, Quatre turned and tried to run down the beach. His wet clothing clung uncomfortably to his lithe body and he fell to his knees several times. He cursed his clumsiness, but he kept struggling back up, though. Amidst his haste, the ribbon tying his braid broke and his heavy golden locks unraveled to drape around his pallid features. He reached the end of the beach bordered by limestone cliffs and turned around, running back the other way.

Nothing.

He headed back up the beach more slowly, inspecting the sand for footprints as well. Maybe, just maybe, Heero had reached the beach first and went to get help. He clung to the slender thread of hope, though in his heart he didn't believe it. Heero would not have left with him still in the water.

The only set of footprints he found farther up the beach were his and the ones they had left earlier when they had arrived. He turned back and scanned the length of the beach once more.

There! There was something dark on the sand. He picked up his gait and all but ran, stumbling toward it. When he got closer he saw that it was Heero, lying in a crumpled heap on the sand.

He fell on his knees beside his still form, a lancing pain entering his heart. He noted the trickle of blood oozing sluggishly from a cut on his forehead and he once again tore a piece of his shirt to bandage the wound. Shrugging off his already ruined shirt, he used it to cushion the lying form's head on the sand. Slowly, Heero straightened up and looked at him wide-eyed.

"You saved me."

"No," Quatre answered in a whisper, shaking his head.

"You did, I saw you," he insisted.

Confusion filled him. "Heero, I – I thought I'd lost you."

"My foot got tangled in the rope, and I hit my head on the bow of the boat. I woke up here with you leaning over me. You saved me."

"I didn't. I just found you, here on the beach. Maybe the tide carried you in."

Heero shook his head groggily. "No, it was you. You bent down and kissed me and then… you went away."

"Heero, I didn't save you and I didn't kiss you."

"Well, somebody did and he had your hair and your beautiful skin. So, if it wasn't you, who was it?"

"I don't know," Quatre said, rocking back on his heels and preparing to stand.

Heero grabbed his hand, and his voice dropped low. It was commanding, insistent. "I shall be bonded to the one who saved me."

Quatre stared into his eyes for a long moment with his heart in his throat. Heero thought it was he. And what of it? Heero had been dreaming; no one else had been on the beach but himself. The tide must have washed him up onshore.

But what if it didn't? his mind demanded. Then Heero would be bonding the wrong person. And who has more right to be bonded to him than me? Quatre flushed at his own arrogance.

His turquoise orbs mirrored the misery of the ocean's song. "Then you shall not be bonded to me."


Quatre sat on his bed with his knees tucked under his chin. For all the years they had known each other, he and Heero had never parted on uneasy terms. He refused to believe that he hadn't saved him from drowning. It would have been so easy to lie to him, but Quatre had never lied to him about anything before and he wasn't about to start now. He owed Heero the truth even if he wouldn't accept it.

When he had come home his parents had taken one look at his bedraggled, half-naked form covered by Heero's coat and wisely refrained from asking questions. Despite his anxiety over Heero, he was also more than a little amazed that he had survived his swim in the ocean.

"The voice was wrong," he whispered to himself. And if the voice was wrong about that, it could be wrong about other things. Maybe he was somebody, somebody special.

Long after the cottage had grown dark and quiet, he finally lay down and closed his eyes. He fell asleep, and the dreams came.


The boat was behind him, and he was swimming for the shore. He was afraid he wouldn't make it. If you go into the water, you will die, the voice in his head whispered. But the rush of water against his skin felt good. He glanced back but did not see Heero. Behind him, though, just beneath the surface of the water, there was a shadow. The shadow's eyes stared at him. Green as the sea. They always stare.

The eyes beckoned him down into the depths, below the surface, into the darkness. He followed, swimming, laughing. He felt so alive.

The shadow disappeared, and the world grew dark as night. The water was cold. It hurt his skin, it was so cold. It wasn't as cold as the laughter, though – that seemed to come from everywhere. The darkness threatened to overwhelm him, and he was afraid.

There was a light shining in the darkness, and he was drawn to it. In the light there were pearls, beautiful and large. He reached out and took one of them and hid it away.

Then came the voice – the hard one, not the soft one. It floated on the water. "Never return… If you go into the ocean you will die along with everyone you love… You are nothing, nobody… No one will miss you… No one will care…" There were other words, but he couldn't hear them.

"I won't die," he yelled. "I won't die." Defiant.

He woke up whispering, "I won't die."

The nightmares faded back into the darkness, and he was left alone in the cold light of the morning. he had something, though, the barest shred of a memory, but it was more than he had ever had and he clung to it as a child clings to his mother's skirt.

The night that Rashid had pulled him out of the ocean, the water had been cold.


The day passed in a blur of misery. He spent most of the afternoon running errands for his mother and preserving fish that his father had caught that morning. At dinner everyone ate in a silence that he was grateful for. Afterward he excused himself and headed for the beach.

He both desired and dreaded to see Heero and wasn't really sure which emotion was stronger. It was not his friend's day to be at the beach, but a part of him hoped he would be there, waiting for him.

As he crested the hill, he had to shield his eyes against the rays of the sun as it approached the horizon. Someone was sitting on the beach facing the ocean. Sitting on our spot. With the sun in his eyes he couldn't tell who it was, but was sure it must be Heero.

He was within ten feet of the man before he realized that he was a stranger. Startled , he stopped. The man was naked from the waist up and was cradling his head in his hands. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled. His large hands looked powerful, whereas the long, slender fingers added an air of grace to them. His legs, clad in simple pants, seemed impossibly long and were stretched out on the sand. He had auburn hair, much the same color as that of Heero's father. Quatre gasped as he realized that his skin was deathly white with patches of red where the sun of the day had burned him.

Suddenly the man lifted his head, and Quatre took a step back. The man cocked his head as though listening, and sniffed the air as an animal would.

"Raberba?" he asked softly.

"I'm sorry sir, you are mistaken," he informed the stranger.

A smile burst over the man's face, and Quatre jumped back as he scrambled to his feet like a newborn colt. "Raberba! It is you!"

"I'm sorry. Sir, I do not know this Raberba of whom you speak of. I am Quatre."

"Quatre… ," he said slowly, as though he were tasting the word in his mouth.

His presence here on his beach and in such a state of undress unnerved him and he backed up, ready to bolt. It was then that the strange man finally looked at him.

Quatre gasped and stopped in his tracks. His eyes! They were almost like the verdant eyes from his dreams, the eyes of the shadow that always stood behind Heero. "You, who are you?" he asked, feeling dazed.

"I am Trowa, and I have been searching for you for a very long time."

"Searching for Raberba, you mean."

"Searching for you, no matter what name you are called by here."

Quatre felt dizzy, as though he was standing on the edge of a particularly steep cliff. It was then that he noticed the eerie fixation of his eyes, their unblinking stare. "Your eyes?" he asked, inexplicably drawn to the tall figure to get a better look.

He raised his hand to them. "A recent development seems to have rendered me blind."

"Then how did you know it was me?"

"Your scent, the sound of your voice, your spirit – all these things made you known to me."

He backed up a bit. "You are frightening me, sir."

"I guess I must be, at that. I am sorry. I'm a bit frightened myself."

"Are you ill?"

"Not exactly, though it would be safe to say that I am not myself today."

His comments were so cryptic that for a moment, Quatre believed he might be insane. His state of undress did nothing to convince him otherwise. Still, he could not turn from him, from the owner of the eyes that he saw every night in his dreams.

"Why do you believe that I am this person you are seeking?"

The man sighed heavily. "I saw you yesterday and recognized you."

"But your eyes…"

"I told you, the blindness is a recent complication, very recent."

"Why did you not make yourself known to me yesterday?" he asked suspiciously.

"Believe me, I wanted to, but circumstances prevented it. Also, it seemed that you and the young man wished to be alone."

He felt his blood run cold. This man had seen him with Heero! He took a step back. Was he some enemy of Heero's, or someone who wanted to hurt his reputation, or his own?

"You saw us?"

He nodded. "Is he all right?"

"Yes." He had seen the accident, then. Quatre looked once again into his eyes. They were such a deep color. The deepest shade of emerald would not compare to his; there was a bright sheen in his eyes that seemed to make it almost glow. He was entranced with the constantly shifting brightness of the lush hues in his eyes. They were the most intense eyes he had ever seen. Except for the shadow. Something from his dream suddenly came back to him. He was swimming away from the boat and he saw the shadow in the water beneath him, the eyes fixed upon him.

"You! You were in the water with me yesterday," he accused.

The man suddenly looked very agitated. "Yes, I was," he admitted. "Did you see me?"

"Only your eyes," Quatre admitted.

He seemed to relax at that. "I followed you to make sure you made it safely to the land."

Quatre stared at his auburn hair, seeming to glow in the setting light, and a sickening feeling twisted his stomach. "Was there someone else with you?" he asked in hushed tones.

He nodded. "My younger brother, Duo."

"He saved Heero," Quatre said more to himself than to him.

"That is true," he affirmed.

He felt as though his world were crashing down around him. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think he went off in search of Heero this morning."

Quatre felt himself sinking slowly to the sand. Heero is going to bond with him! He felt as though he couldn't breathe, and within moments a lone tear escaped his tight control.

Awkwardly, the other man dropped back down to the sand. At last the wave of crushing despair passed and he glanced at Trowa.

"You really care about him, don't you?" the taller man asked.

"It's… complicated," Quatre answered.

"Why is it complicated? Either you love him or not."

"It's just not that easy."

"Why?"

"He's my best friend and my prince," he answered, not sure why he wanted to suddenly pour his heart out to this stranger. He doesn't feel like a stranger, though. There's something so familiar about him, like I've known him all my life. Warning bells were going off in his head. He shouldn't be speaking with him, a strange man alone on the beach. He was gentle by nature, and violence was a thing he avoided most. And he definitely shouldn't be telling him anything about his relationship with Heero.

"But you love him?" he pressed, his deep voice wistful sounding.

He answered despite himself. "I don't know. I think I have feelings for him. I do have feelings for him, I just don't know if I love him."

"Then you don't," Trowa said confidently. "If you have to question whether you're in love, then you're not."

Quatre shuddered. "It would just be so easy to be in love with him. It would solve quite a lot of problems." He sighed, frustrated. "But it would create so many more. He's a prince and I am nothing."

"That is a lie!"

Startled, Quatre stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"You are not nothing, and anyone who said you are is lying."

"How – how do you know that?"

He smiled gently, and Quatre basked in the warm glow. "I told you, I have been searching for you for years."

Quatre looked at his earnest face, pale skin, and beautiful eyes and believed him. His heart began to pound. "Do you know where I come from? Who my real parents are?"

"Yes."

"Are they alive?" he asked, fighting to speak around the lump in his throat.

"Yes. And they will be very happy to find that you are too. They searched for you for years after you disappeared, until they finally resigned themselves to believing that you were dead."

"They thought I was killed in the storm?"

A look of puzzlement flitted across his face for only a moment. "They weren't sure what happened to you."

"And you. You say you kept searching for me?"

"Yes."

"You've traveled far?" Quatre asked in a small voice.

He laughed shortly, and the sound made Quatre's heart leap. "Farther than you know."

His words held the ring of truth. There was more than that, though. Something about him drew Quatre to him. As if sensing his thoughts, Trowa reached out his hand to him.

Quatre touched his hand with his own and Trowa clasped it in his, lowering them to rest on the sand. He stared at his own pale fingers wrapped in his. We must have come from the same place, he thought with growing excitement. "Are you my brother?"

"No, I'm not. We are not related."

"Good," he answered before he could stop himself. He felt a blush rising to his cheeks and was grateful that the other man couldn't see it.

Trowa was rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb, and his skin tingled where they touched. Heero did the same thing to my hand two days ago and it felt good, exciting, but nothing like this… Something about him feels so right, even though I don't know him.

He was suddenly nervous; the silence around them felt like the air did when a storm approached from across the sea. He spoke just to calm himself. "You've been searching how long?"

"Thirteen years."

"How did you know it was me if you haven't seen me in so long?"

"How does the whale know when to swim to warmer waters for winter? How did the fish know when a predator is near? How do you know when love is real? You just know."

Trowa was close, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Quatre felt himself flush again, and tiny chills raced up and down his spine. "You speak of love so intimately. Have you known it yourself?"

"I have," he whispered.

Disappointment flooded him. Trowa was in love with someone. He should not sit so close to him, or let him hold his hand, or think the thoughts he was thinking. "Who… who are you in love with?" he asked with an unconscious pout.

Trowa smiled, as if sensing his expression.

"You."

"Me!" he gasped.

Trowa's voice dropped down to the barest of whispers. "Have you ever known that something was going to happen just before it did, or acted without knowing quite why?"

Quatre remembered the boy he had saved from the runaway cart. He had known something was wrong a moment before he realized what it was. That was why he had been able to grab the child in time. Nor is that the first time something like that happened to me. but I have never told anyone.

"Yes."

"Then I am sure your instincts tell you what I'm going to do next."

Quatre held his breath as Trowa slid his hand up his arm and along his neck until he was cupping his chin. He bent forward and kissed him, Trowa's lips soft against his. He could taste the ocean on him as his kiss turned from the gentleness of lapping waves to the passion of a storm. He couldn't stop a moan from escaping and then Trowa's tongue was caressing his own; all thoughts escaped his mind. As his strong arms wrapped around him, he knew that he was drowning in his embrace.

The last ray of the setting sun was shining upon Trowa's face when they parted. Quatre touched his sunburned cheek wonderingly. "Who are you?" He looked at his handsome features in a new light, caressing the once-familiar contours with his fingers.

"I am Trowa. I am your betrothed."

"My what?" Quatre gasped.

Before he could answer, Quatre heard his father's flute, the notes drifting to him on the air, calling him home. He stood up quickly, confused and suddenly upset. "I have to go." He turned and headed away at a run before Trowa could gain his feet.

"Raberba!" he shouted after him, the anguish in his tone ripping at Quatre's heart. Just as he passed behind the hill he heard him cry out, "Quatre!"

He had no idea what had just happened, but he knew he had to get home. He needed time to think. When the cottage came into sight, he saw a few horses in front of it. He slowed to a walk, breathless. Father must have visitors. He smoothed his shirt and tried to calm his frantic breathing. He brushed the sweat from his face and entered the cabin.

Three men in fine garments stood talking with his parents. Both Quaterina and Rashid looked agitated. Rashid glanced over at him, and his face broke out in a smile of relief.

"Ah, here he is. My lord, may I introduce my son, Quatre. Quatre, this is Vanyel, marquis of Dermail, son of the duke of Dermail."

He bowed low, ducking his eyes. He gave a start when the other man picked up his hand and kissed the back of his fingers. An unpleasant tingle caused Quatre to hastily snatch his hand back.

The regal man took no notice, giving him a smile. "It is an honor to meet you at last, Quatre."

Quatre gazed first from him to Rashid. Both men were smiling. Quaterina, too, was smiling, though Quatre could tell that she had been crying.

Finally he turned back to Vanyel. "My lord, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

The other man's smile grew broader. "Well, I've actually come to speak to your father on a matter of great importance. As your father, it is his privilege to tell you."

"Tell me what?" he asked, turning toward Rashid. Tears were gleaming in his eyes too.

"You tell him, my lord."

"Rashid, given our new relationship, I believe it would be proper for you to address me as Vanyel."

"What relationship?" Quatre asked, wishing someone would tell him what was going on.

Vanyel smiled and took a step closer to him. He bent down and peered into his eyes. Quatre fought his first instinct to reel back. "My dear Quatre, I am your betrothed."

TBC


Author's Notes:

Questions? Just ask me.

Okay, what I did was a bit too much. Quatre and Duo don't look exactly alike, but Heero has just suffered a major concussion (and probably more) and the sun was in his eyes so Duo's chestnut hair is a bit lighter in hue. And since Heero is (understandably) disoriented, he instinctively associates the first thing (or person) he sees with something (someone) familiar. In my own little world, youth aren't given much choice on their life partners; even royalty is given a smaller berth. They bond with whoever their parents approve of (usually the one who is the most fitting, according to their tastes). Hence Quatre's apparent lack of control in his life. If my explanations are too farfetched, I apologize profusely. I gotta go take meds or something. Someone decapitate me now!

I think I made Quatre sound a bit like Relena here. (shudders) Oh and for the 3x4 fans out there: I have a feeling that your thirst for vengeance (on me!) would increase drastically in the next chapters. I am SO sorry!


Replies to Reviews (Chapter 5): No fancy pastries, just loads of yummy cookies for all of you!

Chezaswulf Wai, thanks for thinking that! Although I'm having a bit (okay, a LOT) of trouble with this fic nowadays. So sorry (bows frantically). 'Nyways, thanks for being the first reviewer of chapter 5! Um, have a cookie.

Ultra Rodimus Thanks. I'll try to update as soon as possible, kay? That is, after I work out some issues in the plot. Thanks for reviewing! Here's a cookie.

GundamPilot03 Aww, you loved the chapter? How did you know Heero's alive? Nyahaha, it really is that obvious, ne? Thanks for approving of my Trowa and Duo! Although, the Sea Witch isn't yours to torture. Sorry. You hafta get in line. Wai! Thanks SO much for trying to draw merman Trowa! (drools) I'm bugging a friend to draw merman Duo with his flowy hair, but she's busy so I'm bugging other people! Nyahaha! When, err I mean if I succeed to bug someone enough to draw the mermen, I'm gonna give you a copy, k? Don't hold your breath though. Thanks for the review and here's a cookie for ya! (I should stop giving you sweets, you know. Hehehe.) (-.-")

Crystal Ketchum Darklight Nyahaha, I pity poor Trowa, but he's bound to experience a lot more sufferings. Gomen. It's all for the sake of love so… 'Nyways, hope you enjoy this cookie!

Fairren Nyahaha, and now I updated once again. That means you love me again, ne? (n.n) Thanks for the review! Here's a cookie!

nutzzz Nyahaha, I mailed you a few days ago and I hope I answered your questions. Just in case, I bought my manga in a store called COMIC QUEST. It can be found at the 4th floor of FESTIVAL MALL and somewhere in the ground floor of MEGAMALL. Hope you don't get broke! Hehe. Wait, you actually read my profile? Wow, what endurance you have. (snickers) Aww, thanks for thinking that about my fic and it's nice to know that another Pinoy still enjoys GW. Thanks for the review and here's a cookie.

No one (nice name!) Aww, don't be too sad! Here's another update, although I can't say that it ended in a happy note. In fact, I'm quite revulsed too. But it's all in the plot I've drawn so… let's just try to stomach it, k? I pity poor Trowa too. (bawls) 'Nyways, thanks for the review, here's a cookie!

joyce Nyahaha, yeah, I try to follow that mermaid story (Disney's) as close as possible, but with a lot more twists in the story. I guess this chappie answered a lot of your questions. Aww, I did take Trowa's eyesight but his beautiful emeralds are still as beautiful as ever. Oops, and since I took his sense of sight away, the only way to win Quatre's heart back is to look pretty and woo him through words, ne? (a few kisses wouldn't hurt either, hehe) That's the explanation for Trowa's sudden burst of talkativeness. (sweatdrops) I make the lamest excuses, ne? And yeah, the whole story pivots mostly around Quatre, so your wish is granted. Thanks for the review and here's a cookie for you to munch on.