Chapter 10
Rashid awoke to the strange sensation of space around his body. A cool breeze from the air coolant system shifted his awareness immediately. Opening his eyes, he found himself on his side, Abdule a good two feet from his body. Relaxing, he closed his eyes; Abdule must have moved away in the middle of the night.
Suddenly, Rashid sat bolt up in bed. Raking his eyes across the room he looked for the missing piece of the morning puzzle. Quatre was no where to be seen. Turning to his lover, Rashid shook Abdule until the tan skinned man opened his eyes and grumbled something about sleeping five more minutes.
Turning towards the clock Rashid noted that it was barely three in the morning.
"Abdule, wake up! Quatre is missing."
Immediately, the smaller man sat up, blinking away sleep. He allowed his red eyes to scan the dark room before turning frightened and pleading eyes on his Teacher. "Rad, where is he?" The tone was so helpless, so small. Recruits often never grew out of the need to seek comfort from their Teachers; it was a conditioned response as much as a nurtured one.
"It will be alright. He could not have gone far." But Rashid was angry with himself. He'd never even felt Quatre stir. He couldn't believe that the small boy could have gotten away from him without his knowledge.
Earlier that night, when Quatre had fallen asleep in Abdule's arms, both men had been stunned by the boy's display. Neither himself or Abdule expected Quatre to attempt such a complete change. The boy had been so withdrawn and quiet, it never occurred to Rashid that Quatre would take the first step willingly. But Quatre seemed to be full of more surprises and twists than he'd originally considered—an enigma.
"Rashid, we have to find him! Who knows where he could be! After last night—oh Allah! What if he left because of me! What if it was all an act, and I scared him half to death! What if he hates me!" Self-doubt had often been a plague Rashid had had to fight off with every bit of strength he had when dealing with Abdule. When he'd taken the young man as Recruit, Abdule had hidden his doubts, but as they'd become closer, the self-hatred had been something Rashid vehemently fought against.
Raising his arms, he pulled his first Recruit across the expanse that separated them and gently stroked the shaking man's back. Strong hands ran across sweating flesh and soothing words fell from his lips. "Abdule, Quatre forgave you last night. You know that, you saw it with your own eyes, felt it with your own heart. We will find the child, do not fear. Now come, he may be in his room."
It was a desperate hope, but Rashid saw the relief flash in Abdule's eyes before both men rose quickly and moved into the main room. They stopped dead in their tracks at the sight that met them as the door slid open.
Wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting white pants, Quatre stood in full VR gear by the com. Hands incased in sensory gloves, his face shielded by the black visor that fed his eyes information, the boy swayed as the screen showed that he was engaged in another gaming simulation as he had been earlier that evening.
But closer inspection showed that this was not exactly so. Sweat dripped from the boy's chest, and the gap in the visor showed that Quatre's teeth were bared. One hand was before him, gripping the imaginary piloting stick, while his other hand raced over illusionary controls, pushing buttons, and pulling on overhead levers. In constant movement, Quatre's hands moved from one control to another, as his body swayed with the movements his eyes and brain were seeing. Small sounds issued from his mouth, the low guttural growls, and the rapid intake of breath as he fought to supply his body with enough oxygen to continue.
The com screen showed that Quatre was in the mobile suit simulation again, only this wasn't the leisurely expanse of an open field dotted with a few incompetent mobile suits. The great expanse of space lay before their eyes. Stars glittered in the background, while the darkness would have overwhelmed them had it not been for the dozens of mobile suits that lit the blackness.
Size, shape, color, it didn't matter, Quatre fought them all. A wide range of weapons classifications flashed across the screen, as Quatre's suit passed the others to get a clear shot. The view on the screen changed, tactical information raced across it in a tidal wave of knowledge that Rashid couldn't follow, but sensed that Quatre could.
A moment later, a whining sound issued from the com, and a sudden burst of light lit the dark room. In its wake, Rashid saw that all the mobile suits had been destroyed by Quatre's single shot. Dozens of lives snuffed out by one pull of an imaginary trigger. It sent a cold chill down Rashid's back.
Suddenly, the game prompted Quatre, in its cold metallic voice.
"Level 28 cleared. Advance to Level 29?"
Impossible! Quatre had only been on level 6 earlier that evening! There was no conceivable way he could have made it to level 29, especially since the boy couldn't have been away from his arms for that long to begin with. Rashid knew his sleeping surroundings almost as well as his waking ones. His newest Recruit could not have possibly—
"A-am I going to b-be punished?" Large cerulean blue eyes stared at the two men in the doorway. The visor was removed, and was gripped tightly in Quatre's hands. The dark lacquer of the visor against Quatre's pale skin showed just how much Quatre was shaking. There was fear in his entire stance. Visor held in front of his body to deflect as many blows as possible, his torso was curling towards the ground, and his arms pulling tightly into his body to protect his trunk from the blows he expected. Corn silk bangs had fallen into his eyes, but Quatre was too intent on his Teacher and fellow Recruit to make a move to brush them aside.
An enigma. Capable of decimating dozens of mobile suits with a snarl on his face, and yet when faced with two men that he didn't have to fear looked ready to be attacked from all sides—and completely unable to protect himself.
Rashid didn't know what to think, didn't really know what to say. He was disappointed that Quatre had snuck away from their bed, but he didn't dare show anger towards the boy. Quatre looked about ready to faint, or worse, completely shut down. Unconsciously, his indecision on how to approach the matter caused his hands to ball into fists. He didn't realize he'd done it until a fleeting glance of Quatre's eyes saw them. Blond hair fell completely over his face as Quatre ducked his head. The visor fell from his hands to the floor, and Quatre let his arms drop to his sides. The look was completely submissive, like a child who'd given into the inevitable. Body loose but still shaking, Quatre stood waiting for the blows he anticipated as his punishment.
Beside him, Abdule gasped. But as startling as it was to see Quatre do this, Rashid knew it wasn't uncommon. By the nature of who they were, most Recruits had been severely punished as children. They came into the Maguanacs full of fire and defiance on the outside, but with submissive resignation on the inside. When faced with what they considered the inevitable, most Recruits gave up the fight—loosening their bodies as a way of reducing the damage.
A twinkle of light caught Rashid's eye as he watched something fall from Quatre's bowed head to land on the plush carpet at the boy's feet. Guilt at his own inability to act and fear for Quatre's well being carried Rashid across the space that separated himself from his newest Recruit.
Gentle but firm fingers found their way under Quatre's chin and insistently lifted his face into the light. The Teacher had to close his eyes at the sight before him. Eyes downcast but not daring to close, Quatre refused to make eye contact while large and silent tears fell from his eyes. Rivers of fear tracked down pale cheeks to drip off the end of his chin, silent, and without voice.
"I didn't mean to…make you mad."
Without a sound, Rashid pulled Quatre into his body. His trunk like arms wrapped about the boy and held him close, while large fingers buried themselves into blond strands and gently massaged the child's scalp. Silently, Rashid slipped to his knees, his massive frame still taller than Quatre's even in this position. But they were closer to eye level, and at Quatre's stunned expression, Rashid knew he'd done the right thing coming down to Quatre's level.
With gentle insistence, he pulled Quatre back into him, using his hands to rest the child's chin on his shoulder, the boy's face in the crook of his neck. One hand rubbed large soothing circles across Quatre's back, while the other petted the hair that smelled of sandalwood and sweat.
He didn't know how long he held the boy, but offered a smile to Abdule when the younger man knelt down, also wrapping his arms about Quatre's frame. No words were spoken, none needed to be. Quatre felt their emotions far more clearly than they could describe them. Bundled close to them, skin touching skin, Rashid knew Quatre's inability to control his talent would force him to feel the absurdity of his earlier question.
After hours or minutes, Rashid felt a shift in Quatre's weight, and begrudgingly released the boy. For his part, Quatre pulled away but made no move to put distance between them. His eyes were soft and full of wonder, an expression of awe.
Their eyes met and held, and Rashid felt the desperate need to be loved flowing off the boy in waves that crashed against his sense like fists and kisses. He blinked, bringing his hand up to caress Quatre's cheek, not the least bit surprised when Quatre leaned into the touch, begging silently for more. Softly, he offered his statement to Quatre's question.
"You frightened us, Quatre. I awoke and could not find you. Why did you leave our bed?"
Rashid's voice had startled Quatre's eyes open and the boy looked slightly stunned to have the silence broken. Then, to Rashid's amazement, a light blush traveled across Quatre's face, coating the blond in a light pink.
"The game…it was fun."
Smiling to himself, Rashid nodded. "Perhaps, but from now on, it would be best if you played it during the day instead of the middle of the night." A gentle admonishment, but one that Quatre would understand. And true to his thoughts, Quatre nodded before lifting his eyes and offering a weak but real smile.
"Quatre," Abdule spoke. "Why don't you and I play together tomorrow—well, I guess—later this morning. Then, if you want, I'll take you to the shop and you can see the real things. How's that sound?"
It would have been impossible to miss the excitement in Quatre's eye. "You have real mobile suits?"
Rashid wanted to shake his head and groan.
"Of course we have suits! That's what I do all day, fix-up and create mobile suits! Didn't I tell you I worked in the shops? NO? Well, I do, and tomorrow, I'll take you down there, introduce you to the guys, and then show you my babies! I think you're going to like them. In fact, I think I'll introduce you to Sandrock! That girl's been begging for a good pilot for months now!"
Sensing Abdule was about to take a breath and continue, Rashid rushed in. "That will be fine for tomorrow. However it is late, and our time is better spent resting now. Come Quatre, back to bed."
He rose, smiling as he offered Quatre his outstretched hand, thanking Allah when the boy seemed to take it without conscious thought. With his other arm wrapped about Abdule's shoulders, Rashid propelled his family back to bed.
* * *
"You made these?"
"Well, not all by myself, no. But I designed their outer chassy, pretty cool, hu?"
Abdule's only answer was an enthusiastic nod of Quatre's white blond head. He smiled at his "little brother," ruffling his hair good-naturedly. Not used to the contact, Quatre looked up at him with questioning eyes before smiling.
"Hey! You wanna sit inside one?"
Eyes as big as the sun, Quatre nodded, and Abdule laughed as he depressed the button on the mobile suit's lift. A thin metal wire broke from the latch above and with a hissing sound, dropped to the ground.
"Ok, Quatre, just grab a hold of this here." With a tug, Abdule grasped Quatre's hand and maneuvered it to the grip bar. He felt the fleeting hesitation at their contact, but ignored the shudder that ran through Quatre. The boy didn't seem to mind, and he was growing used to Quatre's skittishness about being touched. "Now, put your foot in that loop. That's right. Ok, when you're ready, give a tug, and then up you go!"
There was the briefest hesitation from fear before Quatre took a deep breath, one more glance at him, and then tugged. Abdule was proud of him, most people screamed their first time on the lift. At whiplash force, the line rose, carrying its passenger quickly up the side of the Goliath.
When Abdule saw Quatre's death like grip lessen on the line, he called up. "Good job, Quatre! That's the first thing you have to learn about real mobile suits: getting into them is almost worse than piloting them!"
A day ago he would have been worried at the glower Quatre sent down at him, but today was different, they'd bonded.
The moment Abdule had awoken that morning for the second time, he'd known things were going to get better for his new family.
Quatre still wasn't comfortable sleeping with them in anything less than a pair of cotton pants, and Abdule couldn't blame him. He remembered exactly what he'd been thinking when Rashid had told him the first time that he was to sleep with his Teacher every night, only to find that Rashid slept in the buff: no way in hell! He too remembered the long pants and even the sweatshirts he'd worn to bed in those early weeks. But Rashid had let it go without comment, and as the weeks had turned to months, and he found himself falling asleep on one side of the bed only to wake up on his Teacher's side, cradled in Rashid's arms, well, he'd given up on the clothing idea.
So Quatre wore the only clothing in the bed, but that was fine, nice actually. He awoke to find that while Quatre lay half across Rashid's chest with himself spooned in behind the boy, Quatre had also managed to slip one half covered leg between his own. The feel of warm cotton, it was nice, nicer to know Quatre was wrapped in it.
But not in a sexual way. No, Abdule was a one-man kind of guy. He thought of Quatre more like his little brother now, a really close little brother that he wanted to spend the next year showing everything to. But it was weird. Since he'd met Rashid, Abdule had stuck close to home, having only a one-night stand with a close friend of his, Estiban. The sex had been good, but both he and Estiban had realized it wasn't meant to be. Both had gone back to their Teachers, and both were now currently very happy. That had been almost eight years ago and the idea of sleeping with anyone but Rashid never even crossed his mind, at least in a tangible way. Quatre wasn't any different right now either, but Abdule wasn't fooling himself. Quatre was beautiful, and was only going to grow more beautiful as the months turned into years. He had at least one more year with Quatre, and another ten if he stayed with Rashid—which he had no doubt that he would. There was something special about Quatre though, and Abdule knew that one-day he'd be engaged with Quatre in some kind of sexual encounter.
The Maguanacs did not promote promiscuity, but it was no secret that they faced death willingly everyday by being the protectors of the Islamic people. One dispute could kill one or all of them. A few years ago, before he'd been recruited, there'd been a border dispute that had resulted in ten of their number being killed in a terrorist attack. Those ten men had left behind ten lovers who were immediately offered comfort in all forms of the word. They were a band of men that believed in taking care of their own no matter what the cost, and willingly gave as much as they received. Allah had given them the freedom of considering themselves—all one hundred of them—family. So like a harem, there were the first "wives" and then the rest. Zechs and Trieze were a prime example. Without doubt, Zechs would be Trieze's "first wife," however; Wufei was Trieze's Recruit and held a very special place with him, like a "second wife." Both were loved and cherished by Trieze, neither more or less than the other, but still, there was no mistake, that for Treize was Zechs, and for Wufei were Heero and Duo.
But that morning, as Quatre had awoken slowly, allowing his senses to come to life with a smile on his face and snuggle that he didn't know he was doing, Abdule had guessed that everything was going to be ok. It did get a little rocky for a moment though.
Quatre had finally managed to open his eyes fully. It'd been nice to see that the boy didn't always awaken as if the devil were chasing him. It must have been the way Quatre had stretched or perhaps his abilities had told him, but as soon as he sensed that both he and Rashid were wrapped around him, Quatre froze.
"P-please let-let go." Poor Quatre, his voice had been so small, but there had been assurance there, and as he'd rolled away and Quatre had quickly stood on the bed only to walk across it and to the door, relieved but not frightened, he'd known everything was going to be ok. There had been a moment of silence between the three of them, before Quatre offered another one of his weak smiles. "Can we…eat? I'm really hungry."
Now, Abdule still smiled at the bravery that little statement had taken. He didn't remember asking Rad for food for at least a month after he'd gotten there. To a slave, food was a control, asking for it often got answered with a beating. It was nice to see that Quatre was able to so easily request something he hadn't been able to. But that wasn't the only thing learned the previous evening.
Last night had proven something to Rashid as well. As they'd showered together that morning, Rashid had confessed quietly as he'd washed Abdule's hair.
"He is adapting much faster than I thought he would. Quatre may have appeared to be one of the untouchable cases, but he is turning out to be more flexible than I imagined he would be."
He'd leaned back as Rashid had maneuvered him under the spray. "That's my little brother for you. I think he's going to surprise us all more than we ever imagined!" He'd been startled when Rashid had pulled him out of the spray and seized his mouth in a searing kiss that rattled his sense and brought his body to immediate life.
"I am glad to hear you call him that."
Breathless, "What? Little Brother? Well he is kind of. I've never had a brother, but I think our relationship is shaping out like that don't you? I mean look, we already argue! Like this morning, he wanted the vanilla shake with nutmeg, and I wanted him to have it with cinnamon. He made that face, like someone'd tried to poison him with cinnamon in the past, before telling me nope he was going to have nutmeg. Actually, it's kind of cute if you think about it. Someday we'll reminisce and our first argument will be over nutmeg and cinnamon."
"I am very proud of you." Abdule lived for that statement. Rashid didn't say it often, so when he did, he meant it.
Shaking himself again, Abdule closed his eyes against the memory of what else had transpired in the shower this morning. He sighed at the thought.
"Abdule?"
Eyes flashing open, he turned to look up at Quatre hanging over the side of the chest plate of the suit. "Sorry, Quatre, I spaced. Listen, there's a lever to the right of the suit, do you see it?" He watched as Quatre turned back to the chest of the mechanical beast.
Finally, the blond leaned back over, nodding his head. "Ok, good, I want you to pull that lever. The chest plate will open up, and you'll be able to climb in. Go ahead and have a seat, just don't hit the green buttons, those turn things on. Go it?"
With a grand smile on his face, Quatre turned to follow his instructions.
He'd seen that particular smile earlier of course, after prayer.
"Abdule? Do you, um, want to play that game together?" Quatre had been waiting for rejection, he saw that now as surly as he'd seen it then. Rashid was wiping his hand off from doing the dish, just as Quatre was drying the last glass the giant had handed him. Quatre's back had been towards him, but Abdule had seen the stiff way Quatre had held himself as he'd waited for his answer. Rashid had caught his eye for a moment behind Quatre's back before walking over and stealing the cloth and cup from Quatre's hands.
"I will finish up in here, you go load up the game." And then he'd seen the smile. It'd shattered the image of a boy without hope that had surrounded Quatre since coming aboard the station. He'd been so amazed by it, all he could do was stare as Quatre had moved back into the living room to set up the game. Rashid offered him a soft smile and a nod towards Quatre's direction.
Abdule knew the closeness between himself and Quatre bothered Rashid a little. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The Teacher was supposed to bond with the Recruit, that was the first relationship formed between the Recruit and anyone else. But while Quatre respected and even feared Rashid, the bond he'd created had been with Abdule.
The last Teacher to take on two recruits had been nearly a fifty years ago, and Abdule had read it hadn't gone that well. The first Recruit had become jealous of the new one and had refused to bond properly with the boy. It had been a hellish experience for all three men, resulting in all three going separate ways at its conclusion. Rashid didn't have to fear he and Quatre not bonding, but Abdule knew Rashid was afraid that Quatre wouldn't bond properly to him. He personally thought that Rashid should just be patient, that Quatre seemed the type to only take in so much at once, but never the less, while he took Quatre down to the shop this afternoon, Rashid was going to talk to Master Habsaba in the hopes of some advice.
Deciding he had better check on his companion, he called down the lever, and then rode the line to the cockpit. Climbing onto the chest plate he watched as Quatre moved large eyes from one side of the cockpit to the other.
"She's pretty cool, isn't she?"
"She's amazing! I recognize some of the controls from the simulation, but some I've never seen before."
Abdule smiled, shop he could talk. "Well, the simulation you played was a really toned down version. It takes years to learn to pilot a Mecha properly. Did you know that Duo's a pilot? Yeah, he's still learning, his partners, Heero and even Wufei pilot too. We were all so stunned when the council decided that all the new Recruits last year would become pilots. It was pretty strange."
A faint look of concern traveled across Quatre's face then, and Abdule paused and waited for the question he knew was coming.
"Wh-what do you think the council will make me do?" And there it was, fear. Abdule saw it, noted it, and then acted on it.
Lifting his hand to rest on Quatre's shoulder, Abdule smiled down at the boy-child. "No one's ever really sure what the council will decide. I had piloting experience when I got here, but the council decided that I'd do better as an engineer. I can't say I'm not happy with their decision. For some strange reason the council seems to know what you'll be good at. They've been doing it since the beginning, and people have stopped questioning them. Some say Allah comes and tells them in the form of an angel, while other say it's some strange precognition. I asked Rad once, you know, since he's head general and all that, he told me he had no idea how they did it. If Rad doesn't know, then we just aren't supposed to know. But don't sweat it. No matter where they place you, you'll be happy. We take care of our own after all!" He stood then, ruffling Quatre's hair. "Come on, I'll show you my babies."
Like a child getting to see his big brothers secret from mommy and daddy, Quatre followed. The hanger was huge, the massive size echoing their footsteps as they moved down the walkway. Brightly lit mobile suits sat back in steel alcoves, scaffolding encasing them as if in coffins, only to rise again from their resting-places when needed. Through this maze, Quatre walked beside him, careful not to wander too far way. At one point three of his fellow engineers walked in their direction, courteously shouting their hellos. But Abdule sense the fear immediately from Quatre and encircled the boy's shoulders with his arm as he gave his friends a knowing look, a see you later, and pulled Quatre along. The boy relaxed when they were out of earshot.
And then they were there. He turned his back to them to stand in front of Quatre, usurping the boys undivided attention. "Quatre, you are about to witness my unborn children. Some men crave women and family, I desire steel and wiring. It is my pleasure to introduce you to all five of my kids. Please say hello to Wing, Deathscythe, Heavyarms, Sandrock, and Nataku. These, Quatre, are my legacy." He knew he was being over dramatic, and as he watched the uninhibited smile cross Quatre's face he knew it to be worth a hundred laughs.
Giving Quatre's arm a tug, he pulled the boy down the row of mobile suits.
Wing, his first. The Mecha had been built like a child's toy, a fascination Abdule had had as a child, a Mecha that turned into a bird—well, as much of a bird as a Mecha could be. Graceful and long, the old bird had superior maneuverability in Wing formation.
Then there was Deathscythe. He'd built her after some old horror movie he'd been able to watch as a child. If death came in the form of a Mecha, it would look like this. The beautiful machine was entirely black, a state of the art cloaking device installed to hide it from view. The machine had been built for stealth, as sneak attacks could often end a war before people had to die.
Heavyarms, painted in the color the animal kingdom on earth knew to mean danger, the massive orange Mecha was an arsenal of guns. Drop Heavyarms into a battle and watch her decimate her opponents. But her rapid death came with a price and she had to be rescued once her ammunition ran out or she'd be a sitting duck. He was still working the kinks out of her.
Sandrock, his quietly held favorite. She was built from a dream he'd had one night, where Rashid had ridden on a white horse, across the great expanse of some unknown desert to rescue him from his old master. His Teacher had ridden into the room Abdule was being punished in, gleaming sickles raised above his head as he called a battle cry and decapitated his old master. In the dream, Rashid had been wearing a cloak to keep the sand from his eyes and Abdule had added that feature to the Mecha as well. A long brown cape cloaked half the machine, obscuring it from view as it rested silently in its alcove.
Finally, there was Nataku. She was the last to be built, and in fact, he'd built it especially for Wufei. When the young Recruit had been taken in, none had known a thing about his past. But one night, on a day that held such significance to Wufei, the younger boy had confessed to once having a wife, a woman he hadn't been able to protect called Nataku. He'd called her a warrior, and Abdule had needed no more prompting. He'd designed the sleek dragon looking Mecha the very next day, showing Wufei the plans and asking the younger boy's opinion the entire way through her design.
"You built all these yourself?" Quatre had stopped back by Sandrock, and Abdule shook himself from his reminiscence and walked back to the blonde's side.
"I wish! Naw, I designed their outer hulls, you know, how they look. Wing was my first one, a challenge. You'd like her, Quatre; she changes into a bird! No lie! I'll have to call you in the next time Heero takes her out, he's amazing with her. I've never seen anyone pilot better than Heero, never. But I digress. As I said, I didn't build them all myself, but a lot of their design I'm a part of. This happens to be the one thing I'm good at, making mobile suits." He smiled.
"I think…you're good at lots of things. You make good shakes." Quatre rushed the last part of the statement and Abdule could have hugged the caring young man before him. Quatre was an odd twist of a boy. He required comfort but didn't ask for it, and offered comfort when it wasn't asked for but needed. He knew it had to do with Quatre's empathy, and though he'd been raised to hate and fear empaths he could do neither in conjunction with Quatre. The boy was simply too fragile.
He nodded his head at Quatre's statement before looking up at the Mecha Quatre had stopped in front of. "You know, I've never told this to anyone before, but Sandrock, she's my favorite. She always reminds me of some kind of angel. I know I should think that about Wing, since that old bird really does have wings, but Sandrock's quieter about her beauty, about her ability to save others. I think of her as judgment you know, like she gazes upon those around her and choose those worthy to continue. Now I'm sounding like I'm talking about Deathscythe, since that one's all about death. But, I don't know…Sandrock has the ability to pass judgement on those around her, but also the ability to forgive. She's an odd combination of destruction and hope. Listen to me! Talking like she's going to start swinging gavels or something! Don't tell anyone I said that, ok. I'd have to feed you cinnamon from now until forever." He smiled to let the boy know he was teasing, but Quatre already knew.
Then, suddenly, Quatre's eyes got a very distant and hollow look to them. The boy seemed to freeze in place for a moment before slowly turning his unfocused eyes back towards Sandrock. And then, as if caught in a sudden dream, the blond moved unseeing towards the Mecha. Startled and frightened he called Quatre's name. "Quatre? Are you ok?" But Quatre didn't answer, just continued to move towards the machine. The strange expression had come over him so immediately that Abdule was half-afraid of what it meant. "Quatre?"
"Quatre."
At the new voice, Abdule turned quickly, catching sight of the other new Recruit—Trowa—walking calmly towards them. Confused by the boy's presence, he turned back towards Quatre to try and get the boy's attention, only to find that Quatre was staring directly at the newcomer.
It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. With feline grace, Trowa moved towards Quatre, until he was standing directly in front of him. Their eyes locked into place and Abdule watched, stunned and fascinated, as Quatre lifted his hand to touch Trowa's. At the contact though, the strange force that held him seemed to lift from Quatre, and the boy blinked rapidly as he turned his face up and looked startled into Trowa's face.
Tall and thin, far too thin to be healthy, Trowa stood a good head taller than Quatre, with auburn hair in an odd cut that wore clipped but natural in the back, with long spiky bangs that covered half his face when he turned in just such a way. His manner was slow, almost carefree to the casual observer, but to someone who'd been owned in the past, Abdule knew he walked like a man anticipating danger in everything and reacting cautiously. He wore a pair of tight fitting blue jeans and a dark turtleneck sweater that must have been extremely uncomfortable in their eighty-degree weather. His skin was tan and Abdule noted that it was natural, his true coloring rather than from the sun's rays. But it was Trowa's expression as he gazed at Quatre that caused warning bells to go off in Abdule's head.
It was a look of utter and total need. A look that encompassed desire, as well as nurturing, both in the sense of companions and long time friends. The crystal clear green eyes were focused so entirely on Quatre's that Abdule doubted either boy noticed that they were not alone. In stunned fascination he watched as the taller boy moved to place his hand against Quatre's cheek, and watched in even more awe as Quatre let him.
But whatever spell Trowa worked upon Quatre lessened as the boy blinked again, before taking a step back. Then, as if changing his mind, Quatre retraced the step, moving even closer to Trowa than he'd been previously. Eyes staring at the simple pattern of Trowa's sweater, Quatre spoke, and Abdule listened in something akin to fear at his little brothers statements, and Trowa's return replies.
"I know you."
"And I know you."
"Where have you been?"
"Missing."
"Have I found you?"
"Not yet."
"When?"
"Soon, but not now."
"Why can't I remember?"
And then Trowa smiled, his hand gently brushing golden bangs from Quatre's forehead.
"It isn't time yet. We both have a lot to learn."
"It's been so long."
"Time, it isn't important, Little One."
"Do you remember how to play?"
"I remember."
"Will we be forced to play together?"
"Of course."
Quatre signed then, letting his eyes drift closed.
"Do you see it?"
"I see you." It was a statement of fact, and Abdule suddenly realized that it was an exact answer to Quatre's question. But Quatre was continuing.
"Will it be very horrible this time?"
"Isn't it always?"
Quatre signed again.
"Things are so different this time."
Trowa offered another smile to the smaller boy.
"Not so different. We'll find our way."
"Can you be sure?"
"Yes."
A pause, and then this time, Trowa asked a question.
"Are you…adjusting?"
"They're kind, and treat me well. I didn't like it before coming here."
"You weren't supposed to."
"And you? Are you fairing well?"
"He is also kind. I am well."
"I'm glad."
"As am I for you."
Suddenly, Quatre seemed very sad.
"I'll forget in a moment, won't I?"
"As will I. But don't be afraid, it will come in time, very soon."
Quatre nodded, and then so did Trowa before both boys bowed their heads, their eyes closing lazily, as if afraid to truly shut. When Quatre looked up, it was as if he hadn't been talking to this boy like an old friend for the last five minutes. Startled, he took a step back but tripped over his own feet, the shoes he was now wearing, tripping him up. With reflexes Abdule could not see, Trowa moved, catching Quatre before he came even close to the floor. They stared at each other for a long moment before Quatre let out the breath he was holding and Trowa seemed to shake himself from his stupor.
Realization dawned on the older boy as Trowa straightened, pulling Quatre into an upright position beside him, steadying the blond with a firm grip of his shoulders.
This time, when Trowa spoke, it was soft, a voice almost without emotion except for the tiniest bit of concern. "Are you alright?"
Dumbly, Quatre nodded before stepping away from the other boy. For a long moment they stared at each other as if trying to decide if they knew one another, before Trowa finally shrugged his shoulders, turned, and walked away.
Stunned beyond all sense of the word, Abdule walked quickly to Quatre's side and clasped his brother on the shoulder. "Are you ok, Quatre? What was all that about?"
But Quatre looked more confused than ever, until finally he turned to look away from the direction Trowa had gone, back towards the bulk of Sandrock, before turning just slightly towards Heavyarms. When he spoke, his voice was distant.
"Neither Heavyarms nor Sandrock have pilots yet, do they, Abdule?" Surprised by the question and its timing, he could do little else but answer.
"No, not yet."
"But the others, they have pilots already don't they." A statement, and Abdule could only turn and nod to the boy.
"Heero, Duo and Wufei, Wing, Deathscythe, and Nataku." Quatre spoke it as if in some kind of strange dream, his voice a thousand miles away.
"How-how did you know that, Quatre?"
"The design changes, the names do not."
"Quatre? What do you mean?"
But Quatre seemed to shake once again out of his stupor. With a violent shudder, he suddenly collapsed against Abdule who barely managed to catch him. It was then that Abdule noted the flushed cheeks and sweat that covered his fellow Recruit.
"Quatre! Are you alright? Quatre, what's wrong?"
Weakly, Quatre struggled to keep his eyes open as his breathing began to become labored. "I-I do-don't feel…Abdule?" The way Quatre said his name, like a pray and plea all at once, had him rising with Quatre nussled against his chest.
"Hold on, Quatre. It's going to be ok. Everything's going to be ok." On desperate feet, he carried Quatre quickly back home. By now, Rashid should be there. He'd take Quatre back to Rashid, back to his Teacher. Rashid would know what to do.
"It's going to be ok, Quatre. Rashid will take care of us, don't worry. Rashid will make everything better. Promise."