Wake in the Dream (2?)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – angst, drama, action.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xR

Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time?

Archive: http/dryerspace. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This is written for the 10 year anniversary contest at Gundam Wing Universe - http/ to: haraamis and Bast for beta reading, Misanagi and Shadow for prodding for more as I was writing. Plus all those who made comments and encouraged along the way. You know who you are…

Comments to: anne Two

"Quatre, where are you?" Someone was calling him. The voice sounded familiar. "Quatre?"

Quatre tried to focus, but his thoughts were jumbled, his body refusing to obey. He forced his eyes open, but all he could see was darkness. All he could feel was the cold.

He needed to be somewhere. There was something important he was supposed to do. Damn this cotton feeling in his head, he was stronger than this. Stronger than whatever had him in its grasp. He had to fight it. Had to fight. Had to…

Feeling himself drowning in the darkness, he struggled against it. He didn't want to live in darkness, didn't want to be alone.

"Trowa, where are you?" Reaching out, Quatre desperately tried to find some sign of Trowa's presence, something to anchor himself onto. Images flashed, too fast to see. Backwards, he was going backwards. He closed his eyes, reasoning that he had a better chance at success without the distraction.

A voice broke his concentration. "We shouldn't be fighting."

It was his own.

Eyes snapping open, Quatre was momentarily disorientated. He was standing on Sandrock in front of the open cockpit door, and Trowa was standing before him, framed against Heavyarms, his hands raised in surrender. Quatre frowned. This wasn't right, Trowa didn't look like he was supposed to. He was too young. This had already happened. What the hell was going on?

He heard himself answer. "Lower your hands. I was the one who surrendered, remember?"

Remember. He had to remember.

"Tro, are you okay?'

Trowa looked up into Duo's concerned eyes. "What?" he asked, momentarily confused. How could he have lost concentration like that? "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." Duo never had taken no for an answer. "Look, I know you're worried about Quatre. We all are." Duo exchanged a glance with Heero. They'd arrived that morning, and after Heero had done a sweep of the house for listening devices, Trowa had briefed them on the situation.

"I'm fine," repeated Trowa, in a tone that meant he wasn't in the mood to argue. "I'm just cold, that's all."

"Turn the heating up, then." Heero returned his attention to the computer screen, ignoring the glare Duo was giving his back.

"I appreciate you coming," Trowa said quietly. Wufei had sent word that he and Relena would be arriving in the early evening. They'd had further to come than Heero and Duo, as Relena had been involved in political negotiations on Earth. Apparently, she and Wufei's arguments about her workload were being fueled by her advancing pregnancy. Relena kept reminding her husband that she was pregnant, not ill, and he in turn, would snort and tell her that it was fortunate that she had him to look after her, because she wasn't doing a very good job of it herself.

"Hey, like we wouldn't?" Duo's expression changed, and his tone turned very cold. "If these assholes harm Quatre in any way, they're going to wish they'd never been born, and then some. Hell's going to be too good for them." He blinked, and then gave Trowa a smile, which, if he hadn't already been cold, would have sent a shiver through him. "No one fucks around with my friends or family, and you guys are family."

"Hmm, that's interesting." Heero tapped the mouse a few times and then pointed to something on the screen.

"What?" Trowa moved over to the computer and leaned over Heero's shoulder. Trowa had fallen asleep the night after going over every inch of the photo. He had been woken by the click of the front door opening, to find himself slumped over the keyboard, and had greeted his friends over the barrel of his gun.

Heero gestured towards the screen again. When he spoke he sounded annoyed. "I can't believe I missed this," he muttered.

"Missed what?" Duo asked. "C'mon baby, we don't have time for twenty questions here."

"I'm well aware of that," Heero replied. He zoomed in so that they were looking at a close-up of Quatre's arm. "See there?"

"It's Quatre's arm." Trowa said dryly. "I do know what his arm looks like, Heero."

"And a few other things," Duo finished, a little too brightly. "Okay, so what's so important about his arm."

"He's cold." Heero looked smug. He shifted the cursor to prove his point. Quatre's skin was covered in goosebumps, fine blond hairs standing up on end. Quatre had always been sensitive to the cold.

"So?" Trowa was losing patience. "That doesn't prove anything."

"L4's temperature controls are carefully regulated to give the illusion of a dry, hot climate at this time of year." Heero raised an eyebrow. "Yet you are wearing a sweater and complaining of the cold."

"It /is/ cold." Trowa really couldn't see where Heero was going with this line of reasoning.

Duo coughed. "No, it's not, Tro. You and Quatre are cold. I'm frying here, but as I'm a polite kind of guy, and you're worried about your man, I haven't said anything."

"Oh." Trowa couldn't think of anything more eloquent to say. "But why would I be cold if…" His voice trailed off. Drugs had always affected his and Quatre's empathic connection. Could whatever Quatre have been given be accentuating their link to the degree that Trowa could be getting an echo of what Quatre was feeling physically as well? He shook his head. It sounded too much like something out of a science fiction novel. But yet, it was the only thing that made sense.

"Cat's empathy is something I've never understood," Duo said. "But I've heard and seen enough to believe in it, especially since the two of you hooked up." He shrugged. "Hey, if it helps us find him, it's all good, right?"

"Right," repeated Heero, although Trowa wasn't sure he was agreeing with Duo or repeating what had been said. "News bulletins." Heero opened the L4 digital newspaper in another window and began to scan. "I knew I'd seen it somewhere," he said, smugly.

"What?" asked Trowa.

"One of the climate control grids has been malfunctioning, sending a section of the city into premature winter." Heero seemed very pleased with himself. "I remembered reading about it on the flight here. If Quatre is being kept where they are experiencing the colder temperatures, it would explain…."

"Why you're both cold," Duo finished.

Heero glared at him. "I /was/ about to explain that," he muttered.

"Sorry," said Duo, a little too gleefully. "So, now that we know where Quatre is, we can go kick butt, hmm?"

"When we find out where Quatre is," Heero corrected. "It's going to take a few hours of research to pin his location down more accurately, and even then, we'll have to search a good sized area. I suggest we wait for Wufei and Relena to arrive, and enlist their help."

"I'm not sure Quatre can wait that long," Trowa pointed out. He shivered and shook his head. "He's very agitated, and I'm getting colder." Although he agreed that Heero's theory was sound, he wasn't sure that the coldness he was feeling was completely the result of faulty temperature controls. He remembered the time he had spent floating in space following the ZERO incident, how he had come close to death, the darkness trying to claim him, taunting him, inviting him to give in and let it win. If Quatre was in such a place, he didn't want to wait. He didn't think that Quatre had the luxury of waiting.

"If we move too soon, we place him in greater danger," Heero reminded him. "If the kidnappers discover that you've brought us in, they will kill him."

"They'll probably kill him anyway," Trowa muttered.

"Tro's right, Heero." Duo shook his head. "There's no way of knowing what these assholes will do."

"For the moment, he's alive." Heero's voice softened. "You're reacting, rather than thinking, Trowa. Both of you are. I know you're worried about Quatre. I am too. He's my friend, but we are only going to get one chance at this, and it has to be done right." He glanced at his watch. "Wufei and Relena will be here in three hours, and we can be ready to move in four."

Duo nodded. "Cat always said that we work better as a team."

"That's because we do," Heero agreed. "It took me a long time to admit that, but he was right."

"So we wait for the last members of our team to arrive," Trowa conceded.

"Correct. Wufei will accompany us, and Relena is more than capable of running communications for the mission from here where it's safe." Heero gave Trowa a tiny smile. "We'll get him back, Trowa." The smile faded completely. "And once he's safe, we will teach these kidnappers the consequences of attempting to take out one of our own."

What was this place? It looked familiar. Quatre glanced down at the phone in his hand, trying to repress a shiver. He looked around, already knowing who was there. Trowa was not happy to see him; Quatre could feel the other pilot's displeasure.

He opened his mouth, intending to ask Trowa if he knew what was going on, what they were both doing here, but what came out was something different. "Hi. So we meet again." Quatre cringed at the greeting. He'd chastised himself for it afterwards then too; hearing it again didn't make it sound any less corny.

"I'm working alone." Trowa's voice was cold.

What the hell? This had to be some kind of dream. Didn't it? Quatre tried to shake his head but couldn't. It was as though he was trapped in his past, a bystander watching everything that had happened, unable to stop history repeating itself.

"So am I." Quatre paused. His younger self refused to cooperate. "It would be better if we worked together."

Trowa had mellowed over the past few years. He could still be as stubborn as hell when he set his mind to it, but Quatre had learnt had to work around that, and for the most part they discussed things that affected both of them.

His vision blurred, and he was dimly aware of voices in the distance. "Are you sure you've given him enough of the drug?"

Drug? What drug?

He was lying on something soft. Where was Trowa? What had happened to the Gundams they had been loading onto the ship? Quatre struggled to pull himself into a sitting position but strong hands held him down. He lashed out, heard someone curse. Opened his eyes, but was unable to focus. The darkness beckoned again.

"Let go of me," he yelled. "Let go…"

He opened his eyes again, but everything was different. "Trowa, they look like us." Wing and Deathscythe were in the distance; Heero and Duo were fighting the OZ troops, two outnumbered against god knew how many. Quatre glanced around for Wufei and then remembered that he hadn't arrived at New Edwards until later.

It had been too late to stop the bloodshed, too late. It had been a trap, the bait too tempting. And they had taken it, devoured it. Killed those who would have brought peace, those who could have written history the way it should have been.

"If they get in my way, I'll destroy them." Trowa wasn't listening. He and Duo were fighting. Gundam against Gundam instead of working together. Fighting. Why were they fighting? Didn't they realise how important it was to work together? Division could be used against them. Five could achieve more than one. If only he had been able to persuade them to work together sooner, so many could have been saved.

Heero was heading towards the shuttle. Quatre clenched his fists, knowing what was coming. "No, Heero. Stop! It's a mistake." He wouldn't let this happen again. He couldn't.

"Heero. No!" Why wouldn't Sandrock obey him? Why wasn't Heero listening? No one could hear him. He was screaming, but the one who needed to hear him couldn't.

Present and past blurred together, and Quatre wasn't sure which was real. "I need to stop him before he destroys the shuttle." He struggled against the hands holding him down, holding him back from what he had to do.

The shuttle was gone. Marshal Noventa was dead, and the Alliance pacifists along with him. Quatre could hear Wufei telling them how they'd been tricked, used as pawns to further Treize Khushrenada's plans for OZ, but he didn't need the reminder. Experiencing it once had been horrific, twice was a nightmare he couldn't break free of.

Sally's announcement added to the nightmare of memories. "The missile self-destruct system has been activated!"

Data scrolled quickly across Quatre's viewscreen. He looked at it, but already knew what it said. This at least had been something they'd managed to get right, something salvaged from the mistake that had sent everything into a downward spiral. "I've confirmed it," he repeated his lines from the past, an actor reliving a part even as the curtain began to fall. "There are forty seven high-yield nuclear warheads at New Edwards. If all of them go off at the same time, everything in a 180 mile radius will be destroyed."

They had less than ten minutes to get clear. It wasn't enough time. Their only option was to stop the detonation.

"There's less than ten percent chance he'll succeed," Quatre told Duo. "We're going to need carriers to escape with our Gundams. We're almost out of fuel."

"Are you always this optimistic?" Duo asked.

It wasn't a choice. Quatre couldn't afford to give into the darkness or lose hope. Once he did that he'd give into a part of himself he couldn't face. The shadow couldn't be allowed to dominate, couldn't be given control.

He heard himself talk Heero through the sequence needed to disarm the device. Heero could do this. Heero had done this. Quatre let out the breath he'd been holding.

And jerked against Sandrock's restraints as the Gundam fell. His body was on fire, he ached all over, but he forced himself back into the battle. "Come on, Sandrock, stand up! It's too soon to be defeated." They had to fight so that the other pilots would see them, would get the message that he and Duo were trying to send. Getting back into space, continuing the fight; that was what mattered.

Mobile suit file rocked the Singapore Spaceport. He and Duo were losing.

Deathscythe fell.

Duo cursed.

In the background the news cast from Space Colony Area D continued. "If the Gundams consider OZ an enemy, we consider them ours!"

Quatre gritted his teeth against the pain, although it was harder to shield himself against this betrayal. Why couldn't they see that the peace OZ was promoting was false? Once the colonies had been lulled into a sense of security they would fall, and he couldn't allow that to happen.

"The ones who are right have to be strong." Wufei's words repeated in Quatre's mind. They had to be strong. They were fighting for what was right.

Weren't they?

He couldn't allow himself to doubt. "I fight to protect those I love." Quatre could remember telling Duo that, but he couldn't recall when. Confusion chased pain and Quatre frowned. Something had happened after this, something important that had changed everything.

Anguish, pain, loss of control. "Trowa!"

No! Not now. Not yet. Later. Quatre choked back his tears. He wasn't going to relive that. He wouldn't. This wasn't real. It was a dream, a nightmare from his past. He'd put it behind him with Trowa's help. Trowa had forgiven him. Why the hell couldn't he forgive himself?

Focus on the now. If he could get through this part of his past, there was a chance that he might escape it and return to his present.

"Trowa, where are you?" Quatre knew he'd called out loud, but he wasn't sure in which reality. Past and present were merging, as were his memories. It was like watching a split screen television, being aware of both, but drawn to either one or the other. He was drowning, losing himself, unable to break free. "I'll back you up until you lift off," he told Duo and Wufei.

Duo screamed Quatre's name, but Quatre ignored him. It was better that two Gundams survive than none.

Sandrock was taking the brunt of the fire from the OZ suits now. Quatre gripped the controls and wiped sweat soaked hair from his face. "I can't take this much longer." The Gundam's defenses were weakening. Duo and Wufei needed more time.

Self-destruction was the only option. "I'm sorry," Quatre whispered. The action felt like a betrayal of a friend, and would also mean the loss of his own life, but it was a sacrifice he had always known might happen when he had entered this fight. Quickly, Quatre set the controls, ignoring the coldness in his heart as the warning alarms sounded around him.

Sandrock's cockpit door opened. "Are you telling me to get off?" Quatre asked. Sandrock had always protected him; they were a team just as he and the other pilots were meant to be a team.

Quatre lowered himself from the Gundam, wincing as he hit the ground but knowing he didn't have time to tend to his injuries. His priority was getting to the shuttle. He stumbled, fighting the blackness around the edge of his vision. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened them again.

The room swam. He tried to swing his legs over the bed, to struggle to his feet but hands held him down. "Let go of me. I have to get to…."

Quatre slumped back onto the mattress. Where was he going? What was he doing? The taste and smell of death made him gag. He closed his eyes again, trying to steady himself, anchor himself. A tendril of something brushed his mind. He reached for it, but it faded again, lost in the battering of emotion his mind was fighting.

Another explosion rocked the shuttle, and Quatre strapped himself in, the restraints firm against his chest. He couldn't move, but instead of the sense of security that usually gave, he couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness.

Forcing himself to concentrate on what he needed to do, Quatre reached for the controls. His vision blurred again, the controls fading to the dirty white of a ceiling and back again. He had to stay conscious if he was going to survive this.

"Fucking hell. He's a Gundam pilot."

What the? Where was he? The light was fading, the blackness taking over. This wasn't real. He had to get out of here. Had to get out of here.

His vision faded to red, Sandrock's explosion taking what was left of the spaceport with it. Quatre slumped, unable to fight anymore, and let the darkness win.

End of Chapter Two

TBC