Chapter 14
For a moment, the room stood in complete silence; then all hell broke loose.
"TROWA!" In a mad rush, Ralph pushed his way across the room to reach his fallen Recruit. If the events of the last few minutes had any effect on him, Ralph showed no signs, the only thing important to him was making sure Trowa was all right.
Still standing by the bed, his hand still over Quatre's heart, Duo looked completely shaken. With a violent lurch, he pulled away from the sick boy and drew his hand in towards his body for protection. "I DIDN'T DO IT!!!" Heero and Wufei had him almost immediately, and as the two tried desperately to find out if their lover was all right, Rashid turned and finally faced his fallen master.
The sounds of Ralph calling to his Recruit, the realization that Quatre had still not awoken, the fact that Duo was somehow connected to this--as were the other two boys--and the dawning understanding that his master had displeased Allah Himself, shook Rashid to the core. With calculated steps, he moved to his still sobbing master's side. He neither knelt nor offered comfort. No one did. Something in the way Trowa had spoken, the conviction in his voice, the power of his presence, or miracle that the boy had just spoken a message from their God, had given them all pause, and they watched without emotion or care.
The crying continued for what seemed like hours to Rashid. At some point Howard had entered, going instantly to Duo and stealing him away from his lovers to offer the kind of comfort only a Teacher could. The other two, now relieved of their burden, moved to their own Teachers, seeking comfort from what they had just seen and heard. A sudden pain filled his chest and only worsened as he turned to look behind him, to see Abdule resting on the floor, his legs curled up, his eyes staring into the space just past Rashid's head.
Suddenly, the pain he'd put his first Recruit through as he'd agonized over Quatre's condition flooded him with guilt and shame. He'd carelessly believed that Abdule could handle himself, and while the younger man surely could in most matters, this was something too close to home.
Every step towards his Recruit filled him with more pain as he finally knelt down to pull Abdule into his embrace. As he held him, Abdule whispered something into his chest, and he had to ask Abdule to repeat the words.
"What did Habsaba do to him?" No "master" when Abdule had been admit since arriving over ten years ago when talking about the leader of the Maguanacs--that omission spoke volumes.
"I do not know yet, but I will find out." With a loving caress, he helped his lover and partner in life to his feet, wrapping his arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Then turning, he walked back towards the calming leader, barely noting the still staring soldiers in the viewing room.
But Rashid didn't have time to pose the questions and demands he wanted--no--needed to; Ralph's worried and commanding voice intercepting him.
"Rashid, worry about that later. Worry about all of it later! Right now we have to focus on the children. Trowa's passed out and Quatre still hasn't woken up, we need to have Wufei check them over first, before we do anything else."
Every fiber of Rashid's body rebelled against the delay. Something otherworldly had happened in this room, something that involved his Quatre and four other boys as well. Then there was Habsaba's betrayal that demanded attention. In the end, it was Abdule's reassuring hand against his shoulder that prompted him to prioritize.
With a growl of unreleased rage, Rashid moved quickly across the room to offer Ralph assistance in moving Trowa back to the bed. He watched Abdule move silently to Quatre's side, his slim fingers barely touching Quatre's cheek in worry and reverence. Once Trowa was tucked securely into the bed, Ralph too moved to touch the tall boy, offering comfort even as the child slept.
There was a slight rustle of fabric beside him, and he turned to see Wufei slipping on a lab coat before moving to draw a blood sample from Trowa's still form. The Chinese youth was shaken, his place in this odd development rattling him just as much as seeing his lover take such an active role in it.
As general to the Maguanacs, Rashid stood only below Habsaba in the ranks. The men looked to him for leadership, but mostly as an unlikely source of care and compassion.
With a familiarity borne only from the comradely of their circumstances, Rashid softly ran his hand over Wufei's hair before coming to rest on the boy's shoulder. The response was immediate as Wufei clasped the hand on his shoulder briefly, offered a faint smile before returning to his work.
Rashid nodded, turning back towards Quatre's bed and the viewing room. He offered his men a tight nod before moving the four feet that separated Trowa's bed from Quatre's, to envelope his lover tightly as they watched Quatre's unchanged form.
The silence lasted for a very long time, the movements of Wufei back and forth across the room, the only sounds. Habsaba had long since stood, moving to a chair in an out of the way corner. It was Wufei's surprised curse and exclamation of impossibility that drew them all away from their confusion and grief.
Treize was the first to respond, Zechs standing very close to him. "What is it, Wufei?"
But the young doctor didn't answer, instead moved back to Trowa's bed and drew another blood sample from the silent boy. Without a word to Ralph or anyone else, Wufei quickly moved back to the other side of the room and began once again to work with the new sample. Again the room fell silent as he worked. That is until he swore yet again and stormed across the room only to pierce Trowa's other arm and draw again.
This time Ralph couldn't hold back his worry. "Wufei, what is it, what's going on?"
But again Wufei said nothing, instead moving back to his miniature lab. Five minutes later, when the doctor turned, it was to move to Quatre's bedside. With precision, he extracted a vial of the small blonde's blood before returning to run another test. The room was silently holding its breath when he finally turned around, face white with a mixture of fear and awe.
It was Ralph again that called for an answer. "Damnit Wufei, what's going on?!"
It seemed to take Wufei a long time to collect himself, and even longer to begin to form a sentence that made sense. "I…ran a test to determine Trowa's T-cell count, hoping he hadn't been injured from his display." The doctor paused again, eyes wide with disbelief. "But his T- Cells have--I can't believe this--they've multiplied to half of standard." Again Wufei stopped, his gaze shifting between Quatre and Trowa, again and again. "It's just not possible."
"But," Ralph questioned. "Isn't that good? That means the REHIV drug is working and Trowa's gaining back more T-Cells than the AIDS virus is killing off, right? He's beating the virus. Isn't that supposed to be good?"
Absently, Wufei nodded his head before suddenly changing his mind and shaking it violently no. "You don't understand. What's happened, it's impossible. The REHIV treatment--in a case as sever as Trowa's--takes months to complete, not weeks! This kind of improvement isn't even plausible! Trowa's T-Cells aren't scheduled to reach this peak for another three months! There's no way this could happen, the body simply can't regenerate that quickly! But-but I've run three separate tests and they're all positive! My God, technically he doesn't even have AIDS anymore, he's back to the downgraded HIV--"
"That's great news! Wufei, it doesn't matter how it happened, but Trowa's getting better and that's all that matters! It's a miracle! I don't care how it happened, just that Trowa's getting better!" Ralph smiled, beaming as he turned to softly caress Trowa's pale face.
They didn't notice Wufei's shaking head until he spoke, his words pained and distant. "But the price was far too high."
This time, Ralph stopped dead, fear stealing over him and everyone in the room. "What do you mean, Wufei? What price?"
Again, Wufei shook his head, and again he simply looked from Trowa to Quatre and back again. "Heero once told me that the universe must remain in constant balance. That for every good thing there must also be a bad. My own family taught me this, but it has always been like an abstract to me. Now, suddenly it's more real than I ever imagined." His voice died out then, and it was beyond strange to see Wufei in such a state.
The glances at Quatre finally pushed Rashid over. "What do you mean exactly, Wufei? What has gone wrong?"
When Wufei lifted his black eyes to meet Rashid's, the general knew it wouldn't bode well for Quatre. "I ran a test on Trowa, the test came back with half of his T-Cells regenerated from the same test I ran last night, which is impossible. But…I ran the same test on Quatre--I'm not sure just why I did it--but it came back positive. There's no way Quatre's T-Cells could have dropped that much in just two weeks--"
"What exactly are you saying, Wufei?" Rashid's voice was tired and strained, every muscle in his body taunt with worry and he could feel Abdule shaking in his arms.
"I'm saying that Quatre has somehow contracted the HIV virus, and worse than that, it's a full blown case of it. But just like their heartbeats it's as if they're enter twinned; because while Trowa's T-Cells are up by a standard half, Quatre's are down by the same percentage. It's as if they split the difference. There's no way Quatre could have had the virus and had it worsen this much since his arrival, there's no scientific way! It's impossible!"
"Not for Allah." The truth was spoken in a voice as nearly dead as its owner. Habsaba sat slumped in the chair, his eyes staring, unseeing, at his hands as they twisted about themselves.
"What exactly do you mean, 'not for Allah'?" This from Zechs, the one among them who had the hardest time assimilating Islam.
But Master Habsaba only shook his head. "They are linked. Mind, body, soul, it's all the same. Trowa wasn't exaggerating, he cannot do it without Quatre and neither Quatre without him. Trowa was injured, the symptoms better split between them than carried by one. That was their downfall before, but not this time."
In a question that seemed to have more meaning in this brief laps in time, Trieze spoke. "What do you mean? Are you saying that Allah had some part in Trowa and Quatre's health?"
Rashid moved to take a step towards Habsaba, but was held back by Abdule. Habsaba answered the question. "Is that so unlikely? You--we all- -believe that Allah decides when our time is finished. Is it so strange to believe that He could decide instead to keep them here?"
And then it was too much. In a violent pull Rashid tore himself from Abdule's grip and stalked to tower over his leader. "What is going on, Habsaba?! Trowa, a quiet and ill boy, suddenly acts like an entirely different person, while shouting at you for disobeying Allah's will. He accuses you of orchestrating the deaths of two of our own, and then speaks of some profound connection between himself and Quatre. Next he pulls in the three remaining recruits from the last rounds and directs them to befriend himself and Quatre. But Trowa speaks as if in third person, an entity inhabiting his body rather than the Trowa we know. Then Duo begins to act strangely, and now Wufei discovers a medical impossibility and you claim responsibility belongs to Allah! No more lies or delay's Habsaba, tell your people what is happening!"
There was a long pause as Rashid stared down his former Teacher. A long pause that accompanied no sound save for the constant beatings of two twin hearts.
Habsaba seemed tired as he answered. "I cannot tell you, Rashid. Allah's will must be realized with time."
"That answer is unaccepta--"
"NOOOOOOOO!!!" In a rush of flailing arms, and a prolonged scream of fear, rage, and torment, Trowa ended Rashid's demands. Fighting the sheets that surrounded him, Trowa sat up, breathing heavily as he struggled to take in the oxygen his body craved more than the drugs he'd willingly given it. His eyes were wild and unseeing for a moment as he struggled with the last remnants of his vanishing nightmare.
Someone…blood, so much blood! Fear…heartbreak… he wouldn't leave…not like this! Suffering as he'd never known, mind deadening, as he quickly shut off all his emotions to keep from sinking under them. Someone was dead, and it was his fault.
"Trowa!" He felt the hand before it touched him, flinched away before it truly made any contact. With a jerk he glared at the man who tried to touch him, but as he did, the world shifted, swirling and dipping so that he had to close his eyes and fight the nausea that threatened to relieve his stomach of what was already not there.
Gentle hands again reached for him, and again he pulled away, only to completely lose his balance so that he had to un-shield his body to catch his descent.
The memories flooded him instantly of a time not long ago. "Never show weakness! You want to be beaten worse than the you already have been, just try to cry, they'll eat you alive!"
This time when the touch came, he hadn't sensed it fighting the nausea. His voice was silent--his eyes, the window to his soul expressing all the danger that he was even if he was ill. Tall and skinny, sick with one illness after another, Trowa looked like an easy target, but against one he was fast and nimble, easily incapacitating his target. He was like that with up to five, even if he wasn't feeling well. Ten was a harder number, twenty arms and legs, ten men waiting their turn with his broken body that was more than he could handle. Better to just wait it out and assess injuries afterwards.
But Trowa paused as his night terror receded and the image of his self proclaimed Teacher, stood before him, absolute worry clearly written across his face. Worry and concern, both new emotions for him. Against his will, he felt the muscles along his body loosen, his wariness not lessening, only the automatic response to flee or fight reduced to bearable levels. That is until he realized they weren't alone.
Ten men, ten other men besides himself and his Teacher. A sick boy asleep on a bed--no worry--but ten viable men, young to old, short to gigantic, it was too much.
He didn't even hear Ralph call his name has he threw his legs over the side of the bed and made to bolt. In an embarrassment that he figured would cost him weeks of self-repair, his legs collapsed under him.
"Trowa! By Allah, are you alright?" He barley heard the words, nothing in his past letting him understand the concern. On the floor he remained perfectly still, his body loose, knowing the punishment for attempting to escape and failing. Silently he cursed himself, feeling the weakness in his muscles, the aching feeling throughout his body. He was in terrible shape, and mentally went over the more intimate places of his body, searching for signs of pain he couldn't remember.
This time, when he felt the gentle hands, he didn't dare flinch away. "Oh, Trowa. It's all right, you're all right. No one's going to hurt you, I promise. It's Ralph, do you remember? I know you're not feeling well right now, you're weak, but that's understandable. Trowa you've been so ill, in a coma for over two weeks now. Try not to move too much, I'll help you back into bed."
A coma?! Two weeks?! That couldn't be right! He remembered being sick, feeling like the world was going to cave in around him. He remembered hiding in a corner of the tent he shared with Ralph, hiding his weakness from the other much stronger man. Nothing else…but gentle hands, soft and warm as they soothed his burning skin? Kind words spoken softly so they didn't frighten him? He remembered the smell of something spicy, a cologne that tickled his senses and made him feel calmer than he could ever remember feeling. Safe, safe with the person that touched him, safe with Ralph.
Startled, he looked up past his wayward bangs and into the eyes of his Teacher, his concerned and worried Teacher. Trowa didn't understand it, had nothing to compare it to if truth be told, but in that moment, when his eyes met those of his Teacher's, he felt something connect in him. It was like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and with a nod of his head in surrender and hope, Trowa agreed to Ralph's offer of help. Trowa didn't dare analyze the feeling of trust, he didn't dare.
With a strength Trowa didn't know he possessed, Ralph lifted him easily, and carefully deposited him onto the bed. Then, as if understanding they were not alone and how that must have upset him, stood sentry next to the bed, offering protection. Trowa couldn't help the wide eyes that rested on his Teacher, and though it went against everything he knew, he desperately wanted to trust this man, felt it like an ache in the soul he barely remembered having.
But his position in the room was weak, and Trowa struggled against the dizziness to sit up, not trusting anyone else in the room, especially the giant towering over the elderly man. Vaguely he remembered that the old man was the leader of the Maguanacs and that the giant was the general, but these types of titles had existed in his own ranks in the mercenary camps, and he'd hated those two most of all.
He shifted, using his arms to brace himself. But his movement caused him to see the small form in the other bed and it was to that figure that his eyes locked, stunned and riveted as parts of his dream replayed themselves.
A boy with blond hair--no--a young man, somewhere in his early twenties atop a black horse--no, grayish white, white was too pure for a soul like his, isn't that what he'd once said? A hand, soft and warm inside his own, hope and promise as lips secretly met in a stolen chance. Frightened and passionate, distant when surrounded, overwhelmed when alone, they were inseparable, and adoring. And then there was blood.
With a violent shake he wrenched himself from his…what? Dream? Memory? Trowa had no way of knowing, but with an insistent call of his name, he looked up to see that every eye in the room was upon him. He turned to regard his Teacher.
"I've been calling your name for five minutes, Trowa. You've been just staring at Quatre." Ah, the angel had a name, Trowa thought before quickly shaking that idea away. Where had that come from? The boy in the other bed was just a slip, a boy/child and nothing more. Trowa knew he was gay, there was no getting around it, but he detested the very act of sex, and as he stole a glance at the sleeping boy, he knew that child could never protect him.
Absently he stammered a response. "I didn't hear you."
"Trowa," and this time it was the giant, Rashid. "Do you recognize, Quatre?"
With trepidation he stole a glance back at the boy and then at Ralph, before answering briefly. "We met in the hallway and again in the hanger. I don't recognize him." Liar! His mind taunted, you know him. But he didn't, and if he did, he doubted he cared. The boy was beautiful, as many boys were, most grew into bastards and worse. Ralph was strong, larger than all except the giant, Trowa would stay with his Teacher.
The boy--Quatre--was of no concern to him.
"Trowa--"
"Rashid, just stop. Trowa's tired, even you can see that. Just let them rest, let's just all rest." His Teacher seemed upset, they all did, and that never boded well for Trowa. Ralph turned to address him. "Trowa, I know this must all seem crazy to you. Wufei said you might not even recognize how much time's passed. As much as I want to talk to you and make sure you're alright, I think it's probably better if you just try to get some sleep." Trowa prided himself on his poker face, but Ralph seemed able to easily see the turmoil beyond the mask. "Don't worry about anything, I'll be staying with you the entire night. Actually, I've been sleeping on a cot that gets moved out in the morning; I didn't want you to wake up alone." And there it was again, compassion and worry. Though he fought against it, though he struggled to remain above it, Trowa melted into the thought that Ralph had protected him during the nights--the most dangerous times.
With a nod of his head and a quick glance back at the crowd of people, Trowa closed his eyes and willed his body to sleep. And just like a true soldier, fell asleep immediately.
For a moment, the room stood in complete silence; then all hell broke loose.
"TROWA!" In a mad rush, Ralph pushed his way across the room to reach his fallen Recruit. If the events of the last few minutes had any effect on him, Ralph showed no signs, the only thing important to him was making sure Trowa was all right.
Still standing by the bed, his hand still over Quatre's heart, Duo looked completely shaken. With a violent lurch, he pulled away from the sick boy and drew his hand in towards his body for protection. "I DIDN'T DO IT!!!" Heero and Wufei had him almost immediately, and as the two tried desperately to find out if their lover was all right, Rashid turned and finally faced his fallen master.
The sounds of Ralph calling to his Recruit, the realization that Quatre had still not awoken, the fact that Duo was somehow connected to this--as were the other two boys--and the dawning understanding that his master had displeased Allah Himself, shook Rashid to the core. With calculated steps, he moved to his still sobbing master's side. He neither knelt nor offered comfort. No one did. Something in the way Trowa had spoken, the conviction in his voice, the power of his presence, or miracle that the boy had just spoken a message from their God, had given them all pause, and they watched without emotion or care.
The crying continued for what seemed like hours to Rashid. At some point Howard had entered, going instantly to Duo and stealing him away from his lovers to offer the kind of comfort only a Teacher could. The other two, now relieved of their burden, moved to their own Teachers, seeking comfort from what they had just seen and heard. A sudden pain filled his chest and only worsened as he turned to look behind him, to see Abdule resting on the floor, his legs curled up, his eyes staring into the space just past Rashid's head.
Suddenly, the pain he'd put his first Recruit through as he'd agonized over Quatre's condition flooded him with guilt and shame. He'd carelessly believed that Abdule could handle himself, and while the younger man surely could in most matters, this was something too close to home.
Every step towards his Recruit filled him with more pain as he finally knelt down to pull Abdule into his embrace. As he held him, Abdule whispered something into his chest, and he had to ask Abdule to repeat the words.
"What did Habsaba do to him?" No "master" when Abdule had been admit since arriving over ten years ago when talking about the leader of the Maguanacs--that omission spoke volumes.
"I do not know yet, but I will find out." With a loving caress, he helped his lover and partner in life to his feet, wrapping his arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Then turning, he walked back towards the calming leader, barely noting the still staring soldiers in the viewing room.
But Rashid didn't have time to pose the questions and demands he wanted--no--needed to; Ralph's worried and commanding voice intercepting him.
"Rashid, worry about that later. Worry about all of it later! Right now we have to focus on the children. Trowa's passed out and Quatre still hasn't woken up, we need to have Wufei check them over first, before we do anything else."
Every fiber of Rashid's body rebelled against the delay. Something otherworldly had happened in this room, something that involved his Quatre and four other boys as well. Then there was Habsaba's betrayal that demanded attention. In the end, it was Abdule's reassuring hand against his shoulder that prompted him to prioritize.
With a growl of unreleased rage, Rashid moved quickly across the room to offer Ralph assistance in moving Trowa back to the bed. He watched Abdule move silently to Quatre's side, his slim fingers barely touching Quatre's cheek in worry and reverence. Once Trowa was tucked securely into the bed, Ralph too moved to touch the tall boy, offering comfort even as the child slept.
There was a slight rustle of fabric beside him, and he turned to see Wufei slipping on a lab coat before moving to draw a blood sample from Trowa's still form. The Chinese youth was shaken, his place in this odd development rattling him just as much as seeing his lover take such an active role in it.
As general to the Maguanacs, Rashid stood only below Habsaba in the ranks. The men looked to him for leadership, but mostly as an unlikely source of care and compassion.
With a familiarity borne only from the comradely of their circumstances, Rashid softly ran his hand over Wufei's hair before coming to rest on the boy's shoulder. The response was immediate as Wufei clasped the hand on his shoulder briefly, offered a faint smile before returning to his work.
Rashid nodded, turning back towards Quatre's bed and the viewing room. He offered his men a tight nod before moving the four feet that separated Trowa's bed from Quatre's, to envelope his lover tightly as they watched Quatre's unchanged form.
The silence lasted for a very long time, the movements of Wufei back and forth across the room, the only sounds. Habsaba had long since stood, moving to a chair in an out of the way corner. It was Wufei's surprised curse and exclamation of impossibility that drew them all away from their confusion and grief.
Treize was the first to respond, Zechs standing very close to him. "What is it, Wufei?"
But the young doctor didn't answer, instead moved back to Trowa's bed and drew another blood sample from the silent boy. Without a word to Ralph or anyone else, Wufei quickly moved back to the other side of the room and began once again to work with the new sample. Again the room fell silent as he worked. That is until he swore yet again and stormed across the room only to pierce Trowa's other arm and draw again.
This time Ralph couldn't hold back his worry. "Wufei, what is it, what's going on?"
But again Wufei said nothing, instead moving back to his miniature lab. Five minutes later, when the doctor turned, it was to move to Quatre's bedside. With precision, he extracted a vial of the small blonde's blood before returning to run another test. The room was silently holding its breath when he finally turned around, face white with a mixture of fear and awe.
It was Ralph again that called for an answer. "Damnit Wufei, what's going on?!"
It seemed to take Wufei a long time to collect himself, and even longer to begin to form a sentence that made sense. "I…ran a test to determine Trowa's T-cell count, hoping he hadn't been injured from his display." The doctor paused again, eyes wide with disbelief. "But his T- Cells have--I can't believe this--they've multiplied to half of standard." Again Wufei stopped, his gaze shifting between Quatre and Trowa, again and again. "It's just not possible."
"But," Ralph questioned. "Isn't that good? That means the REHIV drug is working and Trowa's gaining back more T-Cells than the AIDS virus is killing off, right? He's beating the virus. Isn't that supposed to be good?"
Absently, Wufei nodded his head before suddenly changing his mind and shaking it violently no. "You don't understand. What's happened, it's impossible. The REHIV treatment--in a case as sever as Trowa's--takes months to complete, not weeks! This kind of improvement isn't even plausible! Trowa's T-Cells aren't scheduled to reach this peak for another three months! There's no way this could happen, the body simply can't regenerate that quickly! But-but I've run three separate tests and they're all positive! My God, technically he doesn't even have AIDS anymore, he's back to the downgraded HIV--"
"That's great news! Wufei, it doesn't matter how it happened, but Trowa's getting better and that's all that matters! It's a miracle! I don't care how it happened, just that Trowa's getting better!" Ralph smiled, beaming as he turned to softly caress Trowa's pale face.
They didn't notice Wufei's shaking head until he spoke, his words pained and distant. "But the price was far too high."
This time, Ralph stopped dead, fear stealing over him and everyone in the room. "What do you mean, Wufei? What price?"
Again, Wufei shook his head, and again he simply looked from Trowa to Quatre and back again. "Heero once told me that the universe must remain in constant balance. That for every good thing there must also be a bad. My own family taught me this, but it has always been like an abstract to me. Now, suddenly it's more real than I ever imagined." His voice died out then, and it was beyond strange to see Wufei in such a state.
The glances at Quatre finally pushed Rashid over. "What do you mean exactly, Wufei? What has gone wrong?"
When Wufei lifted his black eyes to meet Rashid's, the general knew it wouldn't bode well for Quatre. "I ran a test on Trowa, the test came back with half of his T-Cells regenerated from the same test I ran last night, which is impossible. But…I ran the same test on Quatre--I'm not sure just why I did it--but it came back positive. There's no way Quatre's T-Cells could have dropped that much in just two weeks--"
"What exactly are you saying, Wufei?" Rashid's voice was tired and strained, every muscle in his body taunt with worry and he could feel Abdule shaking in his arms.
"I'm saying that Quatre has somehow contracted the HIV virus, and worse than that, it's a full blown case of it. But just like their heartbeats it's as if they're enter twinned; because while Trowa's T-Cells are up by a standard half, Quatre's are down by the same percentage. It's as if they split the difference. There's no way Quatre could have had the virus and had it worsen this much since his arrival, there's no scientific way! It's impossible!"
"Not for Allah." The truth was spoken in a voice as nearly dead as its owner. Habsaba sat slumped in the chair, his eyes staring, unseeing, at his hands as they twisted about themselves.
"What exactly do you mean, 'not for Allah'?" This from Zechs, the one among them who had the hardest time assimilating Islam.
But Master Habsaba only shook his head. "They are linked. Mind, body, soul, it's all the same. Trowa wasn't exaggerating, he cannot do it without Quatre and neither Quatre without him. Trowa was injured, the symptoms better split between them than carried by one. That was their downfall before, but not this time."
In a question that seemed to have more meaning in this brief laps in time, Trieze spoke. "What do you mean? Are you saying that Allah had some part in Trowa and Quatre's health?"
Rashid moved to take a step towards Habsaba, but was held back by Abdule. Habsaba answered the question. "Is that so unlikely? You--we all- -believe that Allah decides when our time is finished. Is it so strange to believe that He could decide instead to keep them here?"
And then it was too much. In a violent pull Rashid tore himself from Abdule's grip and stalked to tower over his leader. "What is going on, Habsaba?! Trowa, a quiet and ill boy, suddenly acts like an entirely different person, while shouting at you for disobeying Allah's will. He accuses you of orchestrating the deaths of two of our own, and then speaks of some profound connection between himself and Quatre. Next he pulls in the three remaining recruits from the last rounds and directs them to befriend himself and Quatre. But Trowa speaks as if in third person, an entity inhabiting his body rather than the Trowa we know. Then Duo begins to act strangely, and now Wufei discovers a medical impossibility and you claim responsibility belongs to Allah! No more lies or delay's Habsaba, tell your people what is happening!"
There was a long pause as Rashid stared down his former Teacher. A long pause that accompanied no sound save for the constant beatings of two twin hearts.
Habsaba seemed tired as he answered. "I cannot tell you, Rashid. Allah's will must be realized with time."
"That answer is unaccepta--"
"NOOOOOOOO!!!" In a rush of flailing arms, and a prolonged scream of fear, rage, and torment, Trowa ended Rashid's demands. Fighting the sheets that surrounded him, Trowa sat up, breathing heavily as he struggled to take in the oxygen his body craved more than the drugs he'd willingly given it. His eyes were wild and unseeing for a moment as he struggled with the last remnants of his vanishing nightmare.
Someone…blood, so much blood! Fear…heartbreak… he wouldn't leave…not like this! Suffering as he'd never known, mind deadening, as he quickly shut off all his emotions to keep from sinking under them. Someone was dead, and it was his fault.
"Trowa!" He felt the hand before it touched him, flinched away before it truly made any contact. With a jerk he glared at the man who tried to touch him, but as he did, the world shifted, swirling and dipping so that he had to close his eyes and fight the nausea that threatened to relieve his stomach of what was already not there.
Gentle hands again reached for him, and again he pulled away, only to completely lose his balance so that he had to un-shield his body to catch his descent.
The memories flooded him instantly of a time not long ago. "Never show weakness! You want to be beaten worse than the you already have been, just try to cry, they'll eat you alive!"
This time when the touch came, he hadn't sensed it fighting the nausea. His voice was silent--his eyes, the window to his soul expressing all the danger that he was even if he was ill. Tall and skinny, sick with one illness after another, Trowa looked like an easy target, but against one he was fast and nimble, easily incapacitating his target. He was like that with up to five, even if he wasn't feeling well. Ten was a harder number, twenty arms and legs, ten men waiting their turn with his broken body that was more than he could handle. Better to just wait it out and assess injuries afterwards.
But Trowa paused as his night terror receded and the image of his self proclaimed Teacher, stood before him, absolute worry clearly written across his face. Worry and concern, both new emotions for him. Against his will, he felt the muscles along his body loosen, his wariness not lessening, only the automatic response to flee or fight reduced to bearable levels. That is until he realized they weren't alone.
Ten men, ten other men besides himself and his Teacher. A sick boy asleep on a bed--no worry--but ten viable men, young to old, short to gigantic, it was too much.
He didn't even hear Ralph call his name has he threw his legs over the side of the bed and made to bolt. In an embarrassment that he figured would cost him weeks of self-repair, his legs collapsed under him.
"Trowa! By Allah, are you alright?" He barley heard the words, nothing in his past letting him understand the concern. On the floor he remained perfectly still, his body loose, knowing the punishment for attempting to escape and failing. Silently he cursed himself, feeling the weakness in his muscles, the aching feeling throughout his body. He was in terrible shape, and mentally went over the more intimate places of his body, searching for signs of pain he couldn't remember.
This time, when he felt the gentle hands, he didn't dare flinch away. "Oh, Trowa. It's all right, you're all right. No one's going to hurt you, I promise. It's Ralph, do you remember? I know you're not feeling well right now, you're weak, but that's understandable. Trowa you've been so ill, in a coma for over two weeks now. Try not to move too much, I'll help you back into bed."
A coma?! Two weeks?! That couldn't be right! He remembered being sick, feeling like the world was going to cave in around him. He remembered hiding in a corner of the tent he shared with Ralph, hiding his weakness from the other much stronger man. Nothing else…but gentle hands, soft and warm as they soothed his burning skin? Kind words spoken softly so they didn't frighten him? He remembered the smell of something spicy, a cologne that tickled his senses and made him feel calmer than he could ever remember feeling. Safe, safe with the person that touched him, safe with Ralph.
Startled, he looked up past his wayward bangs and into the eyes of his Teacher, his concerned and worried Teacher. Trowa didn't understand it, had nothing to compare it to if truth be told, but in that moment, when his eyes met those of his Teacher's, he felt something connect in him. It was like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and with a nod of his head in surrender and hope, Trowa agreed to Ralph's offer of help. Trowa didn't dare analyze the feeling of trust, he didn't dare.
With a strength Trowa didn't know he possessed, Ralph lifted him easily, and carefully deposited him onto the bed. Then, as if understanding they were not alone and how that must have upset him, stood sentry next to the bed, offering protection. Trowa couldn't help the wide eyes that rested on his Teacher, and though it went against everything he knew, he desperately wanted to trust this man, felt it like an ache in the soul he barely remembered having.
But his position in the room was weak, and Trowa struggled against the dizziness to sit up, not trusting anyone else in the room, especially the giant towering over the elderly man. Vaguely he remembered that the old man was the leader of the Maguanacs and that the giant was the general, but these types of titles had existed in his own ranks in the mercenary camps, and he'd hated those two most of all.
He shifted, using his arms to brace himself. But his movement caused him to see the small form in the other bed and it was to that figure that his eyes locked, stunned and riveted as parts of his dream replayed themselves.
A boy with blond hair--no--a young man, somewhere in his early twenties atop a black horse--no, grayish white, white was too pure for a soul like his, isn't that what he'd once said? A hand, soft and warm inside his own, hope and promise as lips secretly met in a stolen chance. Frightened and passionate, distant when surrounded, overwhelmed when alone, they were inseparable, and adoring. And then there was blood.
With a violent shake he wrenched himself from his…what? Dream? Memory? Trowa had no way of knowing, but with an insistent call of his name, he looked up to see that every eye in the room was upon him. He turned to regard his Teacher.
"I've been calling your name for five minutes, Trowa. You've been just staring at Quatre." Ah, the angel had a name, Trowa thought before quickly shaking that idea away. Where had that come from? The boy in the other bed was just a slip, a boy/child and nothing more. Trowa knew he was gay, there was no getting around it, but he detested the very act of sex, and as he stole a glance at the sleeping boy, he knew that child could never protect him.
Absently he stammered a response. "I didn't hear you."
"Trowa," and this time it was the giant, Rashid. "Do you recognize, Quatre?"
With trepidation he stole a glance back at the boy and then at Ralph, before answering briefly. "We met in the hallway and again in the hanger. I don't recognize him." Liar! His mind taunted, you know him. But he didn't, and if he did, he doubted he cared. The boy was beautiful, as many boys were, most grew into bastards and worse. Ralph was strong, larger than all except the giant, Trowa would stay with his Teacher.
The boy--Quatre--was of no concern to him.
"Trowa--"
"Rashid, just stop. Trowa's tired, even you can see that. Just let them rest, let's just all rest." His Teacher seemed upset, they all did, and that never boded well for Trowa. Ralph turned to address him. "Trowa, I know this must all seem crazy to you. Wufei said you might not even recognize how much time's passed. As much as I want to talk to you and make sure you're alright, I think it's probably better if you just try to get some sleep." Trowa prided himself on his poker face, but Ralph seemed able to easily see the turmoil beyond the mask. "Don't worry about anything, I'll be staying with you the entire night. Actually, I've been sleeping on a cot that gets moved out in the morning; I didn't want you to wake up alone." And there it was again, compassion and worry. Though he fought against it, though he struggled to remain above it, Trowa melted into the thought that Ralph had protected him during the nights--the most dangerous times.
With a nod of his head and a quick glance back at the crowd of people, Trowa closed his eyes and willed his body to sleep. And just like a true soldier, fell asleep immediately.