Chapter 3
Quatre awoke to the strangest sensation, warmth. On the satellite, it was so rare for him to feel warm, in fact it happened for only two weeks out of the satellites yearly rotation cycle. He cherished those moments when the constant ice of cold metal did not invade his morning senses. But he felt groggy now, and as he snuggled more deeply into the warmth around him he didn't even notice as his warm pillow gave a sigh of contentment.
Rashid smiled down lovingly at the small slip of a boy in his arms. Abdule was curled around the opposite side of Quatre, and together they cocooned the boy's fragile body in warmth.
A light sleeper, Abdule awoke at Quatre's movements and gazed down at the boy a moment before catching Rashid's open eyes and smiling.
In a whispered tone, he spoke.
"He's not going to like this when he wakes up."
Rashid nodded his agreement but placed an arm on his partner's shoulder when the younger man tried to move away. "He will get used to it." There wasn't much more to say. There were things that Quatre was to be told today that would shatter the sheltered world the small thing had been living in. The world Quatre now lived in had rules of its own, traditions and teachings that went against everything the outside taught. But their roles in this life were different than those outside, and if Habsaba was right, then Quatre's role would be great indeed.
"Rad?"
"Shhhh, just rest, he is going to need us to be at our best. It is still early, I will watch over him."
Abdule smiled warmly. "You mean over us both. You always were a worrier."
A sad smile drifted over Rashid's face. "You were always awakening with nightmares, I worried about you often. Perhaps I am simply falling back into that mentality."
Nodding, Abdule pulled Quatre's hands to his chest and wrapped them under his arms, warming them more as Quatre sighed in an almost baby like contentment.
Rashid watched all of this with a sense of wonder and gentleness. Abdule had not always been so warm towards others, and he remembered well the withdrawn and hurt boy he'd taken under his care. But the changes were set in stone now, and watching Abdule with Quatre was perhaps the greatest sense of accomplishment Rashid had ever felt.
He wasn't delusional. Quatre was very hurt, both physically and emotionally, but mostly, his spirit was crushed beyond recognition. The boy would be difficult, but the Maguancs only took in those that could not be taken somewhere else. There were few requirements to enter into the ranks of the Jihad army, but those that were eligible were hard to find now in the colonies.
The boys that entered could not be over the age of twenty-one; those over this age could not be taught the true word of Allah and its meaning. He'd read that they'd tried once and nearly lost the entire rank. No, no one over the age of twenty-one.
And the gene. Long ago, the outside world had cast those with the gene of One out of their cities and homes, cursing their names and denying their existence. But the gene of One, now disgustingly called the "Homo" gene was something required by the laws of Allah.
Gently, Rashid brushed an errant strand of white blond hair from Quatre's forehead. The boy was beautiful, not handsome like most, but literally beautiful to behold. He traced the fine bone structure of the small thing, and though he knew that Quatre's body was in horrible shape, he couldn't help thinking that the boy would one day be the most beautiful among them. But he was so delicate, like fine crystal, one loud sound and he'd shatter; just like so many others had been like when they'd first arrived here.
That was another of the criteria for admittance into the ranks, despair. Usually it came because of this dreaded gene, but every now and then, they entered with their own kind of pain, ones that shattered hearts and reduced grown men to tears.
Quatre was like this. His experiences seemed to stem from the gene in his body, but where most were simply traumatized, Quatre had been brutalized.
Unbiddoned, his own memories of his time before the ranks came to him, and with a small growl he pushed them back into the vault of his memories. That boy no longer existed; he was not that boy.
But his growl must have been louder than he'd thought because Abdule sat up to look at him, at almost the same time Quatre shifted and slowly opened his eyes.
There was a moment of blurry warmth, and Quatre again closed his eyes out of satisfaction. But something tugged at his mind as he forced his eyes to open and blink away the sleep.
He wasn't expecting to see two large hazel eyes staring back at him. He wasn't expecting much at all, only the feel of cold metal and the hollow echo of his own breathing. It took him a moment to realize that the sound of breathing was not his echo but that of the man lying next to him on the bed.
Startled, he flinched, but his eyes refused to believe what was right in front of him. He tried blinking again, and even went so far as to tug his hands away from an unseen Abdule to rub at his eyes. When all that refused to yield the dream, he panicked.
Sleep heavy muscles that still ached from the day before, pushed against a strong expanse of chest. He shoved away from the older man only to feel himself once again in the arms of another. He looked up and into a pair of demonic red eyes before twisting to scramble away.
This couldn't be happening! Where had these people come from?! Where had the demon come from?! Why wasn't he alone?!
He managed to evade the thin arms that tried to wrap about his body, but when he finally managed to sit up, a strong arm, a strength he'd never felt before, grabbed him quickly about the chest and pulled him back down onto the bed.
But he'd seen the room, he knew he wasn't in his little shack, and the memories of the night before spun around him in a horrible litany of terrifying images. He struggled against the arm that held him pinned to the bed across his chest. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, the blood rushing in his ears, he failed to see the two men attempting to calm him down.
Where was he? Who were these people? Why were they hurting him?!
His struggles continued, and he put everything that he was into them, but fact still remained that he only managed to push the mattress away, not the hand draped over him. He felt fingers in his hair, and fought harder, shaking his head back and forth to dislodge the unfamiliar touch.
He wasn't sure when it started, but when the arm across his chest suddenly lifted he sprang across the bed, racing for a corner of the room and crouched down into it. When the blood in his ears stopped racing he quickly realize he was chanting, screaming in his high pitched voice over and over again.
"EVIL CHILD!!! EVIL CHILD!!! EVIL CHILD!!! EVIL CHILD!!!"
As his senses returned to him he opened his tightly shut eyes and lowered his voice until it was a whispered litany of a prayer.
"evil child. evil child. evil child evil child. evil child. evil child. evil child…"
His eyes opened wide, and fearful he took in the half naked men that sat stunned and staring at him upon the bed. There was a mixture of emotions Quatre had no basis to understand but he though his heart felt fear and worry.
They were afraid of him, of the abomination that he was. They were worried that they'd too become like him, abandoned by Allah if they touched him. He was an evil child, Allah wanted no part in him. Allah had forsaken him, and no one wanted an evil child. He was so evil, evil, evil, evil…
With the condemning words in his head, Quatre closed his eyes against the sight before him, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, fingernails biting into the skin of his face. A high pitched whine issued from his throat before whimpers of fear and pain followed.
His feet throbbed, but Quatre wouldn't allow his mind to drift that way. He was always alone! If he just closed his eyes, if he pretended he wasn't here, they'd go away. No one wanted to be in the presence of evil. They'd leave, and he'd be alone again, all alone. Alone.
It had taken a moment for Rashid to understand the screaming boy's words, but when "Evil Child" had registered, he'd been momentarily stunned and released the struggling boy. Who had said this to him?! Who had put such hurtful and hateful lies into his delicate mind!? As he'd watched Quatre race across the bed to curl into the corner by the door, he'd been enraged internally, but held his face in worry as he looked towards the child.
This wasn't right, and as the boy's screams turned into whispered words of self-hate, he wanted to weep at the broken pain filled boy before him. He saw Quatre open his eyes once again before shutting them tightly, his face straining to block out the world as he rocked back and forth and whimpered.
He heard Abdule gasp in a broken sob before he focused all of his senses on the small huddled mass. Standing he made as much noise as he could approaching the boy, but when he reached out to touch him, he knew that Quatre had not heard his approach.
Startled and afraid, the boy lashed out again, kicking his injured feet into Rashid's shins. The physical pain was nothing, he barely felt the child's strongest efforts to protect himself. With soft hands he gently pulled Quatre's back from the corner, pulled him against his chest and spoke softly as the boy once again began to scream.
In a flurry of movement, Abdule stood before him, a blanket in his hands and together they wrapped the screaming and struggling boy tightly into the fabric.
But the sounds of a child screaming was not common in the Maguanac's sanctuary, and Rashid turned a hard gaze as the door to the room flew open and Heero entered, Duo and Wufei flanking him on either side.
He allowed them a look, to decipher exactly what was happen, and that the boy was not being hurt or had hurt himself before issuing his command.
"Get out."
He saw Heero nod and the soldier turned, pushing a distraught Duo from the room, followed by Wufei.
Rashid turned back to the struggling boy. None of the Maguancs feared either he or Abdule would ever hurt the boy, but all knew of Quatre's expressed talents. The screaming that sounded so full of fear had attracted the basic instinct in all Maguancs, protect their own.
With a twist of his body, and the barest touch of his real strength, Rashid turned so his back was to the wall and pulled Quatre, screaming, into his lap. In front of him, Abdule's hushed words and gentle pleadings were going unheard by Quatre, and so Rashid loosened the blanket about the boy's chest, and quickly placed his large hand in the center of the ivory expanse.
Struggling even harder at the contact, Quatre's screams continued and Abdule looked lost and frightened as he turned his eyes pleadingly towards his Teacher.
Rashid took a moment to note how very much alike Quatre was to Abdule before ordering his thoughts and shoving all of his emotions to the front of his mind.
The silence was deafening as the last of Quatre's screams faded into a faint ringing. It both pleased and frightened him.
Looking down at the boy, Rashid winced. Eyes open in something akin to awe and fear, Quatre stared at Abdule, and right through him into a world of his own. The struggles had stopped, and now the boy sat in almost a dead stillness in his arms.
A quick glance at Abdule revealed that the young man had no idea what was happening. He smiled to ease his Recruit's fears before moving the hand not on Quatre's chest to run gentle fingers through dry and damaged blond hair.
Quatre shivered at the contact, but his gaze never broke from that nonexistent focus. Leaning his head down, Rashid rested his cheek against Quatre's, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, focusing on keeping his emotions on the forefront of his mind.
In gentle tones, he softly spoke to Quatre, knowing his voice and his alone would make it through to the boy's mind.
"We will not hurt you, Quatre. You are safe now. I know you have nothing to compare it with, having never known true safety in your short life, but you will soon learn what it means to not be afraid. Breathe deeply and try to calm yourself. I will explain all that I can soon, once you have become calm. Rest your soul Young One, it need not guard itself when you are with us.
"What you feel is my fear, my worry for you. I do not yet know what has truly happened to you, and a part of me is afraid that I will not be able to reach you. That is where the fear comes from. I worry because you are my Recruit, like a student or a son. These things will make more sense soon, but you must try to trust me, trust that I will not let anymore harm come to you.
"Things are about to begin, young Quatre, things that you will not at first understand. You must try to trust me. I know that you know little about your abilities, your gifts from the Great One, but if you can, try to see that I speak the truth. Your trust is something that I will have to earn, a challenge I accept, but you must not bar the door before I have even the chance to knock."
His hand stroked gently against the middle of Quatre's chest, the center of his being, his heart. There was a flutter of movement again, only this time it was Quatre. The boy's hands had moved from their places at his sides to press against his own hand upon his chest. He smiled softly to no one as he nuzzled the soft cheek of the boy.
"That is right, Young One. You do not know why yet, but you understand that I am not here to hurt you. That will not dispel all of your fears, but it will ease some of them. Try to relax little Quatre, no one here will hurt you. I will not let them."
Abdule moved, shifting so he was half a foot closer to Quatre. Breaking his concentration on Quatre, Rashid moved his hand to brush his fingers against his lover's cheek. In a grateful gesture, Abdule nuzzled his hand before leaning back and indicating that he should concentrate on Quatre.
"He needs you now."
But Rashid shook his head. "It is apparent that you will both need me, now more than ever." He smiled softly to Abdule's concerned look before turning back to Quatre and carefully easing his hand from Quatre's grip and away from his chest.
There was an odd moment of stillness as Quatre shook himself from the dream like state he'd been in. He was tired, very tired, and yet he felt calmer than he had when he'd awoken this morning. He was still warm and he closed his eyes against the delicious heat before drawing in a deep breath and opening his eyes.
He again startled and tensed at the demon eyes before him. The demon must have noticed because it closed it's eyes and moved away, returning soon with a pair of black shades on. Quatre let out a breath as he recognized the man that had helped him only the day before.
Only the day before. It seemed so long ago. Had his life really changed so drastically in such a short amount of time? He closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the expanse of muscle behind him. He didn't quite know what was going on, didn't know if he liked being held as he was, didn't know if he liked being touched at all, but he knew one thing, he wasn't in any immediate danger.
"Quatre?" Startled out of his heavy thoughts, Quatre turned his head to the side to examine the strong face before him. This man was so different, not anything like what Quatre had expected. Pain and rage he'd anticipated, calm and caring he had not.
"You—" Quatre blinked, startled by the sound of his own voice. He hadn't wanted to say anything, only to listen, but now that he'd spoken, the man seemed expectant. Flinching away from that expectation Quatre ducked his head, not daring to look at the giant.
"Go on, Quatre. What did you want to say?" Quatre shook his head, he didn't want to speak, didn't want his voice to make anymore sound, anymore words than it already had. Words, words hurt worst of all. But the gentle giant insisted. "Yes. Speak, Little Quatre."
An endearment? He'd head them before, programs on the vid showed fathers using them all the time on their perfect children, but never, in all his years had he ever heard one used on him. He looked up at his captor, a mixture of guarded desire and fearful pleading.
The giant held his ground.
Shaking himself a little, Quatre again ducked his head before looking back at the man in front of him, the man in the sunglasses.
"A-Are you…a d-demon?"
The world shook for a moment, and Quatre tensed as he realized that it was the movement from the giant's laughing. He looked up from his place to once again look under hooded lashes at the man in dark glasses. He was laughing.
"Naw! I'm not a demon, though there are some that might argue with me. Nope, I'm just Abdule. My eyes are like this because of the Gundanium mines. There was some kind of chemical leak and it got into my eyes a long time ago. Now, I can see about two more colors than everyone else, but my eyes look like this." He shrugged. "They freak people out so I usually wear shades to cover them up." He paused to look at Quatre for a concerned moment. "Not that anyone one says anything anymore, not since I became a Maguanc, but I guess old habits die hard."
There was something in this man, something in the way he talked that both set Quatre at ease and tensed his muscles beyond belief. He didn't know what it was, or why he felt so confused. He decided to try to figure it out, what other option did he have?
"I-I heard about Gun-gundanium mines once. A-A story on the vid. They were loud." His words were paced and had taken a great deal of energy out of him to say, but he felt a strange kind of compulsion to say them. It was as if someone were telling him to say the words, to not be afraid.
A gentle smile fell across the young man's face, and Quatre noted that the smile was genuine since the level of his glasses rose to indicate the smile had reached his eyes.
"They were really loud. In fact it was so loud you could hardly hear someone screaming if they stood right next to you. Did you have a vid where you were staying?"
Too much! He withdrew, drawing his hands back against his chest as he turned his head away from the man before him and into the chest of another. He felt caught, trapped once again, and carefully, he began to try to be released.
"Shhhhh, Quatre." It was the giant. "Abdule was too hasty, you are not ready to talk yet, and that is alright. Now is the time for listening. I will tell you the things you need to know about your new life here, and then I will give you something to read to help you understand as well. But first it is morning and we must pray. Then we will eat; you need to regain your strength."
Shifting, the older man let go of his arms and Quatre quickly stood, thankful to be released from the strange feelings. Then the two men stood and together they moved to leave the room. The older turned to address him.
"Do you pray to Allah in the morning?"
Not knowing if he should answer the question he once again ducked his head before shaking it 'no'. Not wishing to incur the large man's wrath, he quickly explained.
"No clocks. Never know when m-morning is."
The deep voice was gentle as he spoke.
"Have no fear. Come with us, we will pray to the Great One together."
He wanted to say "No," to say that he could pray to his beloved God on his own, and that if it was Allah's will to forsake him, then it was his burden to bare alone. But the two waited patiently by the door for him, and so he carefully took a step forward, not knowing what to expect behind the door.
When he came upon them, a large hand fell on his shoulder and he quickly shrugged it off, drawing his arms across his chest to separate himself from them. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, Allah would not condemn these men for praying with him.
The man in sunglasses left the room, and once he realized the giant was waiting for him, Quatre quickly stepped into the next room as well.
It was big. Bigger than his whole shack! It must have been a living room, and Quatre's eye stared longingly at the comfortable looking couch against the far wall. To his right he could see a small kitchen, and to his left three doors. There was one door next to the kitchen, and it was in front of this door that Quatre saw the man that could have been a demon standing.
He saw out of the corner of his eye a large hand once again reach out to touch him, and so he stepped quickly away keeping his head ducked. Understanding the gesture on some wayward level, Quatre timidly moved towards the door that was now opened, the glasses wearing man standing inside.
The room was nearly bare, with a soft white carpet across the floor. To his left was a small fountain and base; it was large enough to stand a body in, but didn't seem to take up much space in the small but cozy room. Candles stood on pedestals around the room and Quatre watched absently as the younger man moved to light a few.
But as his eyes traveled across the room, they fell upon the white bound and paged book that he knew so well. As a boy his father had insisted he read it, forcing him to memorize it word for word. As he'd grown up, alone and with little in the way of distraction, he'd taken to reading the book, studying the document that had so readily condemned his existence some two thousand years after its creation.
The Qur'an sat upon an ornate gold pedestal, beautifully gold crafted leaves stood out against the twisting of the gold depiction of vines as they raced up to create the platform the Holy Book rested upon.
He felt the older man's presence behind him, and so he ducked his head, knowing he had no right to look upon the Holy Book of Allah's words.
"Come, Quatre. Kneel next to me. Were you taught the actions of the Morning Prayer?"
As they moved, Quatre remained silent until he was kneeling in front of the book of his ancestors. Not wanting to speak, he nodded instead.
"Good." He heard the man say. "Let us begin."
He knew the movements by heart. There had once been a time where he'd believed that with enough prayer he could convince Allah of his love so that the Great One would somehow take the hated gene from his body. He remembered days and days of prayer that he'd forced himself to continue for weeks and months at a time. He'd fasted completely when he had food, hoping that Allah would find him worthy of healing. But his God had brought him little relief, and he'd eventually given up hope of Allah's grace. Try as he might though, he could not dissuade himself from performing his prayers, and five times a day, when he thought it should be time, he'd knelt on the unfinished ribbing of the satellite and performed his prayers to Allah, devoting his entire being into his faith.
He spoke not a word, unfamiliar with the need to voice his prayers, Allah heard all, spoken and not. So he recited the words in his mind, offering them to Allah along with a prayer for mercy. Evil children went to Hell, a horrible place unknown to mankind. He desperately prayed that Allah would take pity on him and cast him into nothingness rather than the bowels of Hell; but he held little hope. He also prayed that these two men beside him would be forgiven, his presence with them not allowed to be written into their books of judgment.
When the prayer was over, he remained where he was as the two men stood and extinguished the candles. Finally, the older one squatted down next to him.
"Come, Quatre. We will eat and then I will explain what has happened to you. Are you hungry?"
After a moment, Quatre shook his head. He wasn't hungry, there were never enough rations to last if he ate first thing when he woke up. There were usually enough for one meal, and even then he was never full, he didn't entirely understand that concept--to be full.
Perhaps the giant somehow understood this. "I suppose that is understandable. But still, Wufei has designed a strict diet for you to consume to regain some strength, so we will eat here instead of with the others." The man gave a half laugh, and it caught Quatre's attention enough to force him to look at the giant. "I am not sure you will like the shakes you have to drink, but it is better than nothing."
Quatre said nothing as he stood and moved behind the man. The door was closed behind him, before they walked towards the kitchen where the glasses wearing man was stirring something in a glass.
He started as the young man smiled and handed him the white mixture.
"It probably tastes like chalk but Wufei—our doctor—insists that it's good for you. If it tastes bad, I could probably add some vanilla to it to give it some flavor." The statement was left hanging open, and Quatre chose to ignore it as he brought the glass to his nose to smell.
It smelled awful. But he'd learned a long time ago how to pick mold off of foodstuffs so he could eat, and this couldn't be much different. Without another pause, he brought the glass to his lips and drank the thick liquid.
He'd had worse, and for the most part it was better than his usual fare. He closed his eyes against the looks on the men's faces as they watched him, and continued to drink. Sip by thick sip slipped down his throat as he consumed the mixture, feeling it settle with a cool feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The painful ache of an invaded stomach accompanied it, and Quatre clenched his eyes against the instantaneous cramps that came from the nourishment. There were some months when his father miscalculated the amount of food stores, and in those months Quatre had gone as long as seven days without food, with little more than water to hold him. The cramps of food were nothing new to him, and so he endured, the pain forgotten for the feel of something for his body to live off of.
When finally there was nothing left, he stared blankly into the empty glass, fearful of making the wrong move, and terrified that he had no idea what the right or wrong move was anyway. Slim hands reached out and took the glass from him, but Quatre snatched his hands from touching the skin of those fingers.
Hearing a strange sound he turned to see the giant push a few buttons into a wall, only to have that wall partially lift, and a booth like table fold out. He'd heard about these things, his family had never needed to use them. What he could remember of his home consisted of an infinite amount of space. But the folding table was large, and cast the room into a much cozier atmosphere.
The giant indicated he should sit on one side of the table, and not knowing what else to do, he obeyed. The man then turned towards the kitchen to help the other prepare a simple breakfast of toast and spiced meat.
Once his father had felt generous towards his forgotten son and had brought him a small tray of spiced meats. He'd eaten it quickly, starving for something to fill his stomach. But something had gone wrong, and for days after he'd been too sick to move. He'd scoured the data libraries later, searching for a cause, trying to decide if it had been his father's intention to kill him then and there. But he'd learned about heavy foods and empty stomachs, and decided that he should not have eaten such delicacies after nothing of its kind in his memory.
The two men must have thought of this as the smaller one passed him a slice of toast and the larger man told him to eat it. Full to his understanding of the word, he stared at the buttered bread intently, trying to use it as a shield against the two men in front of him. It didn't work.
"Do you not like toast, Quatre? I could make you something else." It was the thinner man, and Quatre quickly shook his head. Why should they trouble themselves for someone like him? Besides, he wasn't hungry.
"Perhaps," the older man was speaking, and Quatre looked up to listen to him. "You are at a disadvantage as we seem to know your name, and you do not know ours. I am Rashid, and from this point on I am your Teacher in the ways of the Maguancs. This," he indicated the man next to him. "Is Abdule, my first Recruit. You may remember that word, 'Recruit' from yesterday. Both you and Abdule are Recruits. For eleven years, from the time you enter into the Maguancs, you are considered a Recruit and under the guidance of your Teacher. Abdule is in his last year, and that is why I was able to take you both as Recruits at the same time, otherwise you would be taught by someone else."
It wasn't so much that the words overwhelmed him, but the sound, voices. It'd been so long since he'd heard voices that weren't inherently meant to hurt him. He understood what the words meant, but to hear them, to hear calm and soothing tones issued towards him in mass instead of angry shouts, it was hard for him to concentrate on the meaning instead of just the sounds.
He shook himself a moment, and forced his mind to assimilate the words into cohesive sentences and to decipher what those sentences meant. He knew now for sure what the men's names were, and Quatre reasoned quickly that the leader between the two had to be the giant, Rashid. He wasn't sure of the role the younger man—Abdule—played, but it couldn't really be that close to his own, even if they shared the same title.
Recruit? What did it mean? He vaguely remembered hearing something about Rashid being his Teacher, and he was now the student, or was it son? He couldn't remember, and it was frustrating! To come from a place where he knew all the answers by heart, where his schedule was set into stone and fluctuated only around the time the food stores ran out and he knew his father would be returning, Quatre was flustered.
He tried not to let it show, these men were still strangers to him and weakness was not something he could afford. But his face was like an opened book, and he knew immediately that he'd not hidden very well from them. Would they be angry with him for his lack of attention, he assumed they would, everyone else in his life had been.
Rashid spoke. "It is a lot to assimilate all at once. Finish your breakfast and then we will discuss it all in detail." He looked like he wanted to say more, but Quatre shifted his eyes back to the toast in his hand, wanting to eat it, for some reason wanting to please these men, but not having the room in his shrunken stomach.
He was startled when a slim hand took the toast from him. Abdule gave his stunned expression a soft smile. "I figured you were full, and you probably weren't comfortable enough to say so. You can tell us anything, Quatre, but you'll realize that in a moment. If everyone's finished, why don't we sit down in the living room and explain things so Quatre can understand?"
Rashid nodded his agreement, and after affirming that Quatre was indeed full, cleaned off the table and motioned to the couch. "Quatre, take a seat."
He moved slowly towards the couch, aware of every footstep he took.