Chapter 19
With more trepidation then Quatre had ever experienced in his entire life, he made is way down the hallway towards the camps. Rashid and Abdule had decided to take a nap, and Quatre hadn't had the heart to wake them up to take him for his daily dose of UVB rays.
The passage seemed a lot colder to Quatre without Rashid or Abdule by his side. The overhead lights seemed to be dimmer than usually, and the grating under his sandals echoed in the stillness of the metal passageway.
He carried a datapad in one hand, and a protein shake in his other. He'd made the shake himself, not wanting to bother Abdule when the timer went off for his next one. He was finally getting the hang of eating solid foods again, but Wufei had made him promise to keep drinking four shakes a day, and Quatre didn't dare disobey.
Life was starting to settle down for him now. Today had been his fifth day to go to the Classroom, and he was really enjoying his lessons, even the homework was fun to him. Duo kept making faces about the homework saying it was cutting into his afterglow time, but Quatre didn't understand what he was talking about.
He was also having a great deal of fun with the other Recruits. He found Duo to be very entertaining, and while he didn't always understand the American's jokes, he smiled anyway when everyone else did.
Heero was different, but the same. Quatre found himself trusting in Heero's strength. The older boy was still working with Quatre daily on his muscle tone. He was now able to lift ten pounds with each arm, and when he'd finally done it, he'd been so excited he'd even smiled at Heero who'd returned the gesture.
Quatre wasn't overly fond of showing his emotions in front of others. Around Rashid and Abdule was one thing, maybe even Trowa, but the rest.he didn't dare, just in case Rashid had been wrong. But Quatre was finding it harder and harder, especially around the other Recruits, to remember that.
He went to see Wufei every other day for a check-up, but usually he saw the Chinese youth in his literature class. Wufei was very well read, and Quatre was mustering up the courage to ask the doctor about some of things he'd read in the past.
And Trowa.Trowa was a different story all together. He and Trowa were in a separate class from the others for half the day. In that class Auda used them to help each other in their weak points. For Trowa it was easy, he understood the numbers and how they worked together, but Auda had to help when Quatre tried to teach Trowa to read. Auda had told him he was a sight reader, meaning he saw a word and knew what it was by memory, but because he didn't know how to sound a word out it was getting harder and harder to help Trowa. Quatre was actually learning more about reading by listening to Auda teach Trowa anyway, so half way through the last lesson, he'd simply sat quietly and listened carefully to Auda explain what the vowels sounded like. It was all very fascinating to Quatre, and it seemed, Trowa as well.
Quatre's thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he found himself in front of the metal door to the camps. Last time he'd stood here all alone had been over a month before, and so much had happened since then.
With a slight shift of his body, Quatre slid down the wall across from the door to be seated on the floor. His thoughts turned suddenly introspective as he tried to assimilate everything that had happened to him over the last month.
It dawned on him, as his thoughts began to flow and form pictures, that he hadn't actually thought about his new life overly much in detail since arriving. The first thing he noticed was that his brain felt heavy, weighted down with so much that it threatened to shut down. He'd been coasting he realized, just trying to survive rather than analyze anything that had happened to him.
Shifting to a more comfortable position, Quatre thought back to his impressions of the how this had all started. He remembered his father's unscheduled arrival to his satellite.
* * *
"Get up boy!" A sound kick landed against Quatre's ribs in the darkness. Instinctively, the small blond curled in on himself even more, desperately trying to protect his body while complying with the order. Strong arms had hauled him up and pushed him against the wall of the small space Quatre called home. "Disgusting!" Those rough hands pushed at him, but with nowhere to go but the wall, Quatre felt his head hit the metal and his vision threatened to go black.
"Move!" One hand returned, wrapping itself around his neck and propelling him towards the entrance of his shelter. The satellite didn't have a climate control, and it didn't have any shields either. This meant that when it passed by the sun, the exterior shell absorbed the heat, making the temperature unbearably hot; likewise, when the satellite was orbiting behind the shadow of Earth, the cold threatened to burn his toes off. The shelter was the only section of the satellite that had a heating and cooling unit. He'd been lucky enough to find it not long after arriving.
This was a day in the sun's path, and Quatre felt the sweat begin to drip down his neck the moment he stepped from the shelter. He heard his father curse behind him, and Quatre couldn't help but feel a brief sense of satisfaction before he forcefully threw that thought away--how was Allah ever to forgive him if he condemned his own father for doing Allah's bidding?
The Rubar burned lines across the soles of Quatre's bare feet, but he was used to it, the pads of skin long since crusted over. There was no relief from the pain in his feet, no way to stop the constant burning, and Quatre closed his eyes and walked faster rather than remember what the Reprogrammer had done to those very feet.
Bare and sterile, the satellite was anything from cozy, and as Quatre walked in the direction his father pushed him, he found himself passing his humble attempts to make it more like home. To the left was a plastic tarp he'd found coving some old crates not too long ago. There were cans of marking paint still left over from the construction effort, and Quatre had gathered those not long after finding the tarp. Now, the twenty-foot sheet of plastic hung against one of the outer walls and on its surface was a smattering of paint. He'd been trying to paint a mountain, but since there wasn't any blue paint on the satellite, it was a sickly orange color with green and purple accents.
His father scoffed at it as they passed. "Pathetic. It's a waste of supplies to even keep you alive, boy. You can't even managed to do a simple drawing. Absolutely ridiculous!"
Then suddenly his father's cruel laughter sunk into Quatre like stones into the sea. It was a cold sound, one that Quatre had never quite heard before, but the undertone was clear, and Quatre found his arms wrap about his waist against the pain he knew was coming with that sound.
"Not that I have to worry about that much longer. You've meddled in my affairs long enough. I coddled your mother by letting her birth you herself, and you killed her. Ripped your way fright from her body. No, you've caused enough damage for one lifetime." He didn't know what his father was getting at, but at the moment he didn't care.
His mother. He knew she'd been a kind woman, loving. He vaguely remembered an impossible memory, the muffled voice of his mother speaking to him through her womb. He'd once told his sister about the dream, but she'd called him a liar and slapped him for his efforts. Silence, he'd learned, was a much better virtue.
But his mother had not been silent. As a boy he remembered seeing pictures of her, dancing with his father, playing with his sisters. She'd been beautiful, long silver blond hair that hung in a mass of waves down half her back. Her eyes had been a sparkling blue so intense they didn't seem human. And her smile, perfect teeth and full lips, she could have stopped a room with her smile alone.
She's been perfect, absolutely perfect--until he'd come. He'd been the seed of evil placed in her garden of Eden. As he'd grown, he'd ripped the beauty and strength from the vivacious woman, until she'd been nothing but a shell to harbor his body.
Before the gene test, his sisters had never talked about his mother, preferring instead to talk around her, even when Quatre had asked a direct question. But once the testing had proved his deformity, they hadn't kept quiet, instead, reminding him at every token moment what he'd done.
"Don't you dare cry out when I hit you, you ungrateful brat! You're the cause of your own suffering! If mother hadn't wanted a child so badly, if you hadn't sucked all the life out of her, none of this would be happening!"
"You horrible, horrible child! You kill your own mother and then come to me for comfort. Get out! Get out before I ignore father and ruin something other than those disgusting feet!"
"It's too bad you had to kill your mother, Quatre. If she was alive, I bet father would have come up with an alternative to your.little problem. But alas, you're a murderer, and such unholy acts must be punished, you know. You really are an evil child, Quatre Winner."
"Get up there!" With a shove, Quatre found himself back on the satellite, the memories fading from him but not the pain. He was at the ramp leading up to his father's ship. It was the small shuttle, the one his father used when he thought people were watching his movements too closely. But the shuttle was cool inside and Quatre found at the moment he didn't really care what was going on as long as his feet could feel some relief.
Inside, his father shoved him into a chair and closed the hatch door. Perplexed, he allowed himself a moment of hope that he was finally getting to go home, before he remembered the cruel sound of his father's voice, and that nagging little ability of his that told him he was never going to go home with this man.
His father pulled out a bag that lay tucked in one of the compartments and threw it at him. "Get ready! There's a shower through there, I trust you still know how to properly clean yourself, though from your appearance that may be questionable. Put the clothes on, and don't you dare get anything on them! Don't give me an excuse to kill you now, boy!" With this, his father moved into the cockpit and Quatre obeyed without thought and went to the bathroom.
It was small, but much better than the basin and pitcher he had back at the shelter. The shelter. It was as close to home as he understood it, but now, if his father's feelings were right, he was never going to see it again. Quatre sighed as he turned on the water of the bath. So be it then he thought, he didn't deserve anything better. At least it would be over soon, Allah would cast him down, and he could finally stop being a burden to his father. That and--as he slipped into the water--he was tired, so very tired of it, all of it. He just wanted to rest.
The water had to be changed three times before he was sufficiently clean. Slowly he dried off, savoring the feeling of the towel against his skin. Dry, he opened the bag he'd been given and pulled out the contents. There was a black suit, a pair of undergarments including socks, a dark red tie, and a pair of black gleaming shoes. It was the socks that almost made Quatre start to cry. The open wounds on his feet would surly protest the coarse fabric and he silently contemplated not putting them on. But the pain was so much better than feeling the hate and anger roll off his father when he disobeyed; grimacing and choking back a sob, Quatre pulled the socks on.
Nothing of the outfit fit him. The pants were too big at the waist, and the jacket much too tight. The shirt buttoned fine against his slight form, but the arms were so tight he could barely move. And the shoes, Allah in heaven, they reshaped and pinched, until Quatre thought every blister, every open sore, must be digging it's way back up into his skin, festering until he cut off his own feet in agony. But he didn't dare cry out at the first step he took, he didn't dare call for help as he literally felt the fluid filled sack on his left foot burst from the sock and shoe, he didn't dare sob as the wool socks ground into his now bleeding flesh. No, he didn't have any right to seek mercy, he was an evil child.
He spent the rest of the twenty-four hour trip in one of the back chairs, trying desperately to keep his feet off the floor to alleviate the pressure. Quatre had been asleep when the shuttle touched down on what he later found out was the Maguanac station. His father had roughly jerked him awake.
"Get up! Embarrass me, and I'll beat you until your flesh falls off. Now get up!"
The night had only worsened the pain in his feet, but Quatre moved silently, following quietly behind his father as the man smiled brightly and shook hands with fellow businessmen. Not once did, Raberba Winner introduce the boy straggling behind him as his son, and while many of the people had seemed curious, none had questioned Master Winner.
As they passed through the doors, a console issued them a number, and his father took it before moving against one of the long corridor walls. His father sat down, Quatre stood, and together they waited for Quatre's turn.
He could just barely remember the last time he'd been here. That time too they'd done the same thing, only his father had been more cordial, less violently taunt. Back then, Quatre had been a burden, but not so openly despised. Last time they'd had to wait five days, this time it would only be two.
In the first twelve hours, his father bought food from a vendor, Quatre watched him eat it. Twelve hours after that, his father lay asleep against the wall; Quatre still stood by his side. Twelve hours again, his father had disappeared with a business associate, and for the first time, Quatre sat down and fell asleep. Three hours later he was violently slapped awake. His father took his place against the wall, and Quatre stood, the pain in his feet beyond fire. Twelve hours later, they entered the great hall.
Things happened quickly from there. He disobeyed his father, was beaten in front of witnesses, entered the ranks of the Maguanacs, acquired Rashid as his Teacher, and was discovered as an empath. Then he'd passed out.
* * *
Looking back on it, he'd wanted to die that day. Desperately, he'd wished to just drift off. He wasn't entirely sure he didn't want that anymore either. Rashid hadn't yet questioned him too much on his past, but Quatre could feel him getting more and more curious about it. There were times he noticed Rashid move to say something, only to change his mind and remain silent.
Quatre wasn't sure what he'd say once Rashid finally asked him about his time before the camps. He supposed he'd lie, that he'd tell Rashid only what needed to be said before going silent. Rashid didn't need to know what Quatre had been through, no one needed to know. The humiliation, the desecration, the torture.no one needed to know about those things. He supposed he'd tell Rashid that his Reprogrammer had beaten him, tried to make him transcend the gene in every cell of his body. Quatre thought he'd have to explain where "evil child" came from, but that was an easy enough lie to fabricate. Rashid didn't have to know all the truths of Quatre's life--Quatre didn't even want to know the truths.
It pained him a little to know that he could so easily agree to lie to his Teacher. But the alternative was so much worse; it would be better just to keep it simple, to keep the whole thing from ears that desperately wanted to hear and heal him. But Rashid would hear the real story and try to comfort him, to banish the images from his mind, no, that couldn't happen, he deserved those images.
It wasn't that he believed that Allah hated him anymore; he believed Aisha's chapter completely now. No, it was more that Quatre knew exactly who he was, knew to those people outside this station he was below nothing. It was the pain he felt when he realized he couldn't hate his father, because as far as his father had known, he'd done the right thing, the noble thing. As impossible as it seemed to him now, his father had done so much more for him than could have been expected. Most people in Raberba Winner's position would have just killed their sons, but his father had tried--no matter how twisted that sounded--he'd tried to help Quatre overcome his genes. He'd been cruel and ruthless about it, but he'd tried, and no matter how much Quatre hated him for it, he couldn't actually hate his father at all.
Shaking his head, Quatre thought of other things. He thought about the touching exercises he, Rashid and Abdule did every day. It was always the same, Quatre would lie on the bed and they would lightly touch him for as long as he could stand it. Since returning from the infirmary, Abdule had been forced to only touch his covered body parts, because for some reason he simply could not stand the touch of his brother. They'd tried it of course, again and again, they'd tried, but Quatre's emotions flew into turmoil whenever Abdule touched him. He knew it was hurting his brother, but he couldn't help it. It was as if all of Abdule's emotions flew right into his head at the simple contact, as if Quatre's shields crumbled only when he touched him. He didn't understand why, only that Abdule would smile kindly when Quatre backed away or cried out. Quatre knew that when he fled the room every night, when their emotions became too much for him to control and he ran as far away from them as he could while still being near--he knew that Rashid held Abdule, knew it was Rashid that comforted his brother.
The fact remained however, that the time between the initial touch and when he fled was lengthening. He could now spend almost a half-hour with them before he couldn't stand it anymore. There had been one day actually, where he'd been able to stay with them for forty-five minutes, but he'd not been able to repeat that again.
It was getting easier though, and Quatre was grateful for that, grateful and a little bit scared about what it would all mean. He'd spent his whole life thinking that he was morally evil, that this gene in his body made him unforgivable in the eyes of Allah. But now he knew that wasn't true, that in fact he wasn't evil at all, that he was truly blessed by Allah Himself. But what did that mean?
Quatre bent his head, his face falling into his hands as he breathed deeply.
He was a homosexual. There, he'd said it, at least in his head.
He tried to say it out loud.he couldn't.
He said it in his head again, it sounded weaker this time.
Quatre drew in another deep breath. There wasn't any getting around it, he was a homosexual. But he didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him in that sense. In fact, he didn't feel anything in terms of sex. What he knew about the act of sex he knew from his Reprogrammer and--NO! He wasn't going to think about that anymore!
But still, he didn't see the men around him and feel.what was he supposed to feel? He didn't feel lightheaded, or sick to.his.stomach. Oh God!
He'd felt sick around Wufei all the time! But wait! He'd actually been sick to his stomach, the same with Abdule. OK, so that didn't count, at least he didn't think so. When else had he felt sick to his stomach? Duo and Heero had been with Wufei when Rashid had carried his cramped body to the restroom in the infirmary, so none of them counted. That left only the other day in the Classroom.
Trowa. It'd been Trowa who had made him feel as if something were alive in his stomach, crawling around to let him know it was there. But no, he didn't have.feelings for Trowa. Trowa was his friend, a good friend. Trowa didn't ask him to talk all the time, or try to touch him more than Quatre wanted to be touched.
But was Trowa--Quatre cleared his throat and looked around to see if anyone was in the corridor with him--nice looking? Quatre didn't know. There were a lot of nice looking people in the ranks, but they weren't nice looking just because they were men, at least he didn't think so. Trowa's eyes were nice, but so were Duo's. Trowa's hair was very interesting to look at, but so was Wufei's in that severe ponytail. Trowa was lean and muscular, but Heero was too, and Quatre already knew he'd only gotten sick to his stomach around Heero because of the solid foods. So that meant that Quatre didn't think Trowa looked handsome, nope, instead, he must have actually been a little sick still the last time he saw Trowa, that would explain things.
So that meant that he was homosexual, but didn't think men were.cute. Was that possible? Could he be attracted to men without being attracted to them? Oh, it made his head hurt to think about it!
Shaking his head, Quatre moved his thoughts to another subject.
Rashid. Quatre smiled. Rashid was so good to him. Patient and kind, his Teacher was quite literally the rock he'd held onto this last month. Rashid had been with him every step of the way, guiding him and making him feel safe and comfortable. When it was too hard for him to fall asleep at night, Rashid allowed him to place his hand onto his chest and be swallowed by the sleepiness Rashid projected for him. When he felt embarrassed because of his inability to touch skin to skin, it was Rashid that kissed his hair and brushed his bangs back before telling him not to worry, that he was doing just fine. It was Rashid that encouraged him to return to the violin, allowing Quatre to teach him a little more every night, even though Quatre could tell that Rashid wasn't exactly interested. It was Rashid that Quatre now gravitated to, going to him the moment the giant came home, and staying by his side long into the night. Rashid was more than a rock, he was like the father Quatre had always wished he'd had. Rashid was like air to him, something necessary for life to continue.
Nodding his head at his internal thoughts Quatre stood. There was a lot on his mind, more than most days. Abandoned, then rescued, saved and now loved. It was a lot to assimilate, and Quatre reasoned it would take a lot more than just a few minutes outside the door to the camps.
Squaring his shoulders, Quatre pressed in the passcode and stepped directly into Trowa. Startled, they both took large steps back, and Quatre noticed that Trowa's right hand moved automatically towards his hip in a grabbing motion before it dropped to his side.
They stared at each other for a moment, both too stunned to say or do anything. Finally, Quatre broke the silence.
"I-I thought I'd get some.sun." Was he blushing? No, it must be the heat, it was a lot warmer in the camps, as was evident from Trowa's lack of a shirt.
Trowa tensed for a moment at the sound of his voice, and Quatre watched as the muscles of his abs and chest tightened before releasing.
"Wufei mentioned that no one had seen you outside today. I offered to bring you down myself, I thought your Teacher might be too busy." Trowa's eyes were jumping back and forth over Quatre's face, and it was hard for the blond to keep up with them. It was almost as if Trowa were memorizing his features.
"Rashid and Abdule are napping. I didn't want to wake them up. I-I.I thought I'd try to go to the camps myself today." Sheepishly he broke off, his face dropping from the intense stare of Trowa's searching eyes.
"I did not mean to imply that you couldn't come on your own." There was defensiveness in Trowa's voice, and Quatre didn't like the way it sounded at all.
He shook his head. "No, that's ok. I don't mind. It-it was nice of you to think of me."
Quatre could tell by the startled expression on Trowa's face, that he hadn't meant to say his next words out loud.
"I always think of you."
They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Finally, with what appeared to be a blush, Trowa looked away. "Myself and the others are by one of the pools. If you wouldn't mind the company you may come with me."
Suddenly, the idea of sitting with Trowa was very appealing. Quatre still didn't know very many people in the camps yet, and it would be nice not to have to sit alone knowing everyone was staring at him anyway.
Nodding his consent, he followed Trowa through a maze of pools and silk before a mass of brush opened into one of the more secluded pools. There Quatre saw Wufei reading quietly under the shade of a palm tree; Heero running his hands over his arms applying what Quatre thought must be sunscreen; and Duo, who was playing in the water, trying desperately to catch a water jet as it popped out of the waters surface.
Heero saw them first and smiled kindly. Heero's smiles were often kind, but didn't always reach his eyes, this one however, did. "Hello, Quatre."
Quatre nodded at his friend. "Hi."
"Oi! Quatre! You gotta come in here, the water's perfect! I look like a prune, I swear to God, you should see my fingertips!" The longhaired boy laughed outright and Quatre saw Wufei roll his eyes before hiding his smile.
He offered Duo a small smile before following Trowa to the shade by Wufei. The Chinese boy questioned him about the shake and datapad.
"It's my homework. I didn't get a chance to finish it with Abdule." He paused, slightly ashamed. "I'm still having trouble with numbers above a hundred." He looked away, sipping at his shake to ignore the misery that statement had brought him. He hated to admit not knowing something.
Trowa's voice was light when he spoke, as if he understood and sympathized with how Quatre was feeling. "I could look over it with you if you want."
Quatre looked up, offered a sad half smile and moved closer to Trowa, sitting before him so that they were facing each other.
It was like that for nearly ten minutes. Trowa pointing out simple errors Quatre had made in his number writing, mostly writing them backwards or in some rare cases, upside down. Quatre listened patiently, only speaking to ask a question when he absolutely couldn't follow a word Trowa had said, which was only once. He was actually starting to get the hang of it when Duo came over and dripped all over him.
Startled, Quatre reeled back before looking up and squinting at Duo.
"Oh, sorry, Quatre. Listen, I wasn't kidding about that water. Why don't you take a break and come in for a little while. Besides, you know what they say about all work and no play." It must have been evident on Quatre's face that he had no idea what "they" said. But Duo just shrugged and extended his hand down to Quatre.
With a glance to make sure it was all right with Trowa, Quatre stood on his own and moved over to the water's edge with Duo. The overhead lights of the artificial sun reflected rainbow light patterns across the surface of the water. The light seemed to dance as the warm air blew around Quatre's body. It was so peaceful here, so soft and gentle. The trees swayed in the breeze, and the rustle of the shrubs was like a song to him.
He closed his eyes, the beauty of the place threatening to overwhelm him as he remembered the starkness of his satellite. The conditions had been unbearable there, hot or cold, it didn't matter, there was never a time where it was comfortable. But here, in this beautiful place, there was life all around him; so much so that it fed on itself, giving the illusion of unity in form. It was breathtaking to behold, and Quatre found his throat had tightened at the thoughts running though his head.
With a quick shake, Quatre followed Duo to the edge of the pool.
Smiling, Duo stopped Quatre with a hand to his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now Quatre, there are two ways to get into a pool. The first is you can go over to those steps and slowly wade in--a recommendation for those without swimming experience. On the other hand, the second alternative is--oh, why don't I show you!" And with that, Duo took a flying leap into the pool, sailing about six feet away from the edge. A torrential splash issued out of the pool and Quatre heard Wufei and Heero yelling at their partner.
The thing that caught Quatre as being strange was the fact that his face wore a smile, and he hadn't even had to tell his mouth to make it. A smile he hadn't had to direct, those were few and far between.
Not pausing to think too much about it, Quatre moved over to the steps that lead down into the water. He was about to step in when Duo's head broke the surface.
"Hey Quatre! Take off your sandals first, they track too much dirt into the pools, and I've got pool duty week after next."
Take off his sandals?
Take them off!
Suddenly, going into the pool didn't seem like such a good idea. He took a step away from the lip. He could see Duo's concerned expression out of the corner of his eye.
He tried to take another, was about to tell Duo he'd changed his mind, when he backed up and bumped right up against Heero. The other boy steadied him before dropping his hands. "The water will do you some good, Quatre. Besides, if you stay in there for twenty minutes, I won't make you come and see me later." And then with a smile, Heero dove into the water, barely causing a ripple.
"Showoff! Heero, you're such a flirt!" Duo cried indignantly, before he suddenly realized that Heero's torpedoing form was headed straight for him. With a cry, he too dove under the water and raced towards the island in the middle of the pool, upon which grew a great palm tree.
But in Quatre's head there was a great war being waged. Take off his sandals, expose his feet, or spend an hour with Heero later that night. He didn't mind spending time with Heero, he liked the quiet boy if truth be told, but he and Abdule had started a new strategy game and it would be nice not to have it interrupted by his nightly visit to the gym and Heero. But his feet.
He could just take off his sandals facing away from the pool where Heero and Duo were splashing each other playfully, and to the left, away from Trowa and Wufei. Then he'd only have to spend twenty minutes in the water and finish his homework before he could play the rest of the night with Abdule.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre made his decision and moved to the pool's edge. Silently, and with tiny movements to draw less attention to himself, Quatre released the clasps on his sandals before slipping them off, careful to keep the soles of his feet always pointing downwards. Once removed, he turned his sandals upside down next to the lip before quickly shoving his feet into the water.
He wasn't prepared for the stinging. He wasn't ready for the tiny points of burning fire that jabbed and stabbed at the soles of his feet the moment the water touched them. Liquid fire raced up his legs and Quatre lost his balance under the strain and fell backwards, his lower half submersed as he sat heavily upon the entrance stairs.
"Quatre?" In pain and startled, Quatre shot his head around to see Trowa standing now instead of sitting by Wufei, both his and Wufei's eyes upon him. "Are you alright?"
The pain was like needles forcing their way through his flesh, imbedding themselves into his very bones. It seared his flesh, cut into it like a thousand tiny razorblades streaking across the soles.
Quickly he nodded before trying to stand.
He imagined he could feel the skin splitting now, cracks and chasms opening up between his toes, traveling down until they met at his instep. He imagined the reddish green puss flowing from his open sores, slowly staining the water a disgusting color of decay.
Quatre managed three steps until the pain overwhelmed him. He cried out as his legs buckled under the torturous pain of his own weight; the pads of his feet being eaten alive by the water and the stone bottom of the pool.
For a second he thought he heard someone call his name, but then his head was under the water, the liquid rushing into his mouth. For one tiny moment he considered allowing the clear liquid to fill his lungs, for just a second he considered taking a willing step towards his own destruction. He didn't have time to consider it more than that.
Strong, thin arms suddenly wrapped under his own and lifted his head above the water, pulled his face so that it broke the surface and his one traitorous idea was spoiled as he drew oxygen and not water. He sputtered, coughing up the water he'd accidentally swallowed as he struggled to keep from crying out as his feet scrapped the bottom of the pool.
A few feet from the steps, one of the more jagged rocks tipped with his foot and pressed into the grove marks left by his Reprogrammer. The scream issued from his lips before he could stop it. Blinding agony raced up his leg and wrapped itself around his mind until there was only red and black and nothing else.
It came to him slowly. He didn't recognize it at first. As his vision started to clear, and the ringing in his ears dimmed to a dull tone, he realized there were hands on him, and he wasn't afraid.
He was leaning against someone's chest, smaller than Rashid's, but just as defined. A pair of legs were beside his, so that Quatre knew he sat between the legs of the person that was holding him. There were hands on his knees, one of the fingers had a small gold ring--Duo's hands. And there were Heero's, one on his knee, the other on his hip, steadying him. He recognized Wufei's on his face, those meticulous fingers trying to force Quatre to look at him. But that's not where Quatre wanted to look. With a defeated sort of force, he turned his head to the left and looked up, up into the frightened and worried, emerald eyes of Trowa. He felt fingers skitter across the center of his chest and knew without looking that Trowa's hand was pressed against his heart. He felt his bangs being brushed away from his eyes so he could see more clearly, look more deeply into the concern of Trowa's stare.
He didn't know he sighed, didn't know he was sobbing until the hands that had only been resting on his body began to caress his flesh in comfort and sympathy. Quatre didn't say anything, didn't utter a word, just turned his body into Trowa's and used both of his hands to keep Trowa's own against his heart.
The temperature was a little cooler, the lights a little dimmer when Quatre finally came back to himself. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he imagined it had been a long while; and yet, all four Recruits were still seated around him, all still slowly offering comfort through the touch of his skin. Distantly he heard Duo's voice telling him everything was going to be ok, that everyone had to have a good cry once in a while. He heard Wufei and Heero voice their agreement, and heard Heero offer that he'd cried only last week.
It was such a touching gesture, the admissions of their own shortcomings to ease his suffering. He felt the need to explain, felt the need to tell them what had really happened.
He drew in a shaking breath and shift only slightly away from Trowa's body. But Trowa's hand did not let him go, and while he allowed Quatre to turn to face the other boys, he pulled Quatre's body back, tightly against him in his new position.
Carefully, slowly, Quatre lifted his right foot out of the water bringing it to break the surface and crossing it at his knee so that the sole pointed upwards, so that they could see.
Quatre knew that Wufei had seen his feet before, that wasn't really why he was showing them. He heard Duo gasp at the sight, and while Heero didn't make a sound, the Japanese boy did tighten his hand about Quatre's hip.
His feet were quite simply grotesque. Misshapen stubs of flesh were the closest he could come when describing them. His foot had five toes, but none had toenails. Large chunks of flesh were missing from sporadic areas across the sole, and his heel had deep burn marks like drill bits a quarter inch into the flesh. Grove's of flesh were cut across the pads, most noticeably from middle toe to the bottom of his heel, and from left of the instep to the right. A few chunks of skin were only barely attached, so that the water actually rushed under the flesh, causing it to float minutely away from his foot.
He reasoned his foot looked worse then normal due to its time under the water, but he said nothing about that. When he did speak, it was short sentences, the emotion long since abandoning his voice.
"The Reprogrammer's work. My father told him not to touch my face, too noticeable. My feet were better. Shoes hide the damage. Socks are torture. I used to limp. Got beat for that. I don't limp anymore. They.hurt. All the time. I don't notice it some days anymore. Water makes them hurt more. So do socks. Rocks are..." He broke off, the sob catching in his throat.
There was silence for a moment, and then Wufei broke it. "May I look, Quatre?" He nodded absently and turned into Trowa's neck, closing his eyes as his tall friend ran gentle fingers though his hair.
The exam lasted for only a moment. "I assumed when you did not say anything about the pain, that the nerve endings in your feet had died from the trauma. I wish you had told me sooner, Quatre, there are procedures, ointments I could have given you to ease your suffering."
A minute passed as Wufei waited for him to answer, and finally Quatre just shook his head. He didn't say anything, only shook his head. How could he tell them that he still thought he deserved the pain, that it was his own brand of self-punishment? A reminder of what he'd been through and what he'd die before going back to. He didn't know how to put that into words they'd understand--didn't know if it made sense either way--so he kept quiet.
Suddenly a booming voice broke the quiet of Quatre's contemplation.
"What is going on? Quatre, are you alright?" Rashid's voice startled them all, and Quatre quickly pushed his foot back under the water before his Teacher could see it. He also raced to speak before the others could tell his secret.
"I-I'm fine. It's just--just the water overwhelmed me. I'm sorry, I just haven't seen so much water all in one place before. I-I started to cry. I'm sorry." He dropped his head, not daring to look at the accusing faces around him. He heard Trowa whisper his name but ignored it, instead using all his available strength to push away from the hands around him. He ducked his head pretending to watch his step, as his still burning feet were again forced to support his weight in the water. He made a mad grab for his sandals and quickly stuffed his feet into them before looking up at Rashid. "I'm a little tired now, Rashid. Heero said I wouldn't have to see him tonight if I went into the water for awhile. Do you think I could go home and take a nap?"
"Of course." And with that Rashid propelled him out of the alcove.
At the last available spot before he disappeared behind the bushes, he turned back to look at his friends. They were all staring at him with pure worry and fear in their gazes. He gave them a forced smile.
"Thank you, but I'll be fine now."
None of them looked away as he turned the corner.
With more trepidation then Quatre had ever experienced in his entire life, he made is way down the hallway towards the camps. Rashid and Abdule had decided to take a nap, and Quatre hadn't had the heart to wake them up to take him for his daily dose of UVB rays.
The passage seemed a lot colder to Quatre without Rashid or Abdule by his side. The overhead lights seemed to be dimmer than usually, and the grating under his sandals echoed in the stillness of the metal passageway.
He carried a datapad in one hand, and a protein shake in his other. He'd made the shake himself, not wanting to bother Abdule when the timer went off for his next one. He was finally getting the hang of eating solid foods again, but Wufei had made him promise to keep drinking four shakes a day, and Quatre didn't dare disobey.
Life was starting to settle down for him now. Today had been his fifth day to go to the Classroom, and he was really enjoying his lessons, even the homework was fun to him. Duo kept making faces about the homework saying it was cutting into his afterglow time, but Quatre didn't understand what he was talking about.
He was also having a great deal of fun with the other Recruits. He found Duo to be very entertaining, and while he didn't always understand the American's jokes, he smiled anyway when everyone else did.
Heero was different, but the same. Quatre found himself trusting in Heero's strength. The older boy was still working with Quatre daily on his muscle tone. He was now able to lift ten pounds with each arm, and when he'd finally done it, he'd been so excited he'd even smiled at Heero who'd returned the gesture.
Quatre wasn't overly fond of showing his emotions in front of others. Around Rashid and Abdule was one thing, maybe even Trowa, but the rest.he didn't dare, just in case Rashid had been wrong. But Quatre was finding it harder and harder, especially around the other Recruits, to remember that.
He went to see Wufei every other day for a check-up, but usually he saw the Chinese youth in his literature class. Wufei was very well read, and Quatre was mustering up the courage to ask the doctor about some of things he'd read in the past.
And Trowa.Trowa was a different story all together. He and Trowa were in a separate class from the others for half the day. In that class Auda used them to help each other in their weak points. For Trowa it was easy, he understood the numbers and how they worked together, but Auda had to help when Quatre tried to teach Trowa to read. Auda had told him he was a sight reader, meaning he saw a word and knew what it was by memory, but because he didn't know how to sound a word out it was getting harder and harder to help Trowa. Quatre was actually learning more about reading by listening to Auda teach Trowa anyway, so half way through the last lesson, he'd simply sat quietly and listened carefully to Auda explain what the vowels sounded like. It was all very fascinating to Quatre, and it seemed, Trowa as well.
Quatre's thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he found himself in front of the metal door to the camps. Last time he'd stood here all alone had been over a month before, and so much had happened since then.
With a slight shift of his body, Quatre slid down the wall across from the door to be seated on the floor. His thoughts turned suddenly introspective as he tried to assimilate everything that had happened to him over the last month.
It dawned on him, as his thoughts began to flow and form pictures, that he hadn't actually thought about his new life overly much in detail since arriving. The first thing he noticed was that his brain felt heavy, weighted down with so much that it threatened to shut down. He'd been coasting he realized, just trying to survive rather than analyze anything that had happened to him.
Shifting to a more comfortable position, Quatre thought back to his impressions of the how this had all started. He remembered his father's unscheduled arrival to his satellite.
* * *
"Get up boy!" A sound kick landed against Quatre's ribs in the darkness. Instinctively, the small blond curled in on himself even more, desperately trying to protect his body while complying with the order. Strong arms had hauled him up and pushed him against the wall of the small space Quatre called home. "Disgusting!" Those rough hands pushed at him, but with nowhere to go but the wall, Quatre felt his head hit the metal and his vision threatened to go black.
"Move!" One hand returned, wrapping itself around his neck and propelling him towards the entrance of his shelter. The satellite didn't have a climate control, and it didn't have any shields either. This meant that when it passed by the sun, the exterior shell absorbed the heat, making the temperature unbearably hot; likewise, when the satellite was orbiting behind the shadow of Earth, the cold threatened to burn his toes off. The shelter was the only section of the satellite that had a heating and cooling unit. He'd been lucky enough to find it not long after arriving.
This was a day in the sun's path, and Quatre felt the sweat begin to drip down his neck the moment he stepped from the shelter. He heard his father curse behind him, and Quatre couldn't help but feel a brief sense of satisfaction before he forcefully threw that thought away--how was Allah ever to forgive him if he condemned his own father for doing Allah's bidding?
The Rubar burned lines across the soles of Quatre's bare feet, but he was used to it, the pads of skin long since crusted over. There was no relief from the pain in his feet, no way to stop the constant burning, and Quatre closed his eyes and walked faster rather than remember what the Reprogrammer had done to those very feet.
Bare and sterile, the satellite was anything from cozy, and as Quatre walked in the direction his father pushed him, he found himself passing his humble attempts to make it more like home. To the left was a plastic tarp he'd found coving some old crates not too long ago. There were cans of marking paint still left over from the construction effort, and Quatre had gathered those not long after finding the tarp. Now, the twenty-foot sheet of plastic hung against one of the outer walls and on its surface was a smattering of paint. He'd been trying to paint a mountain, but since there wasn't any blue paint on the satellite, it was a sickly orange color with green and purple accents.
His father scoffed at it as they passed. "Pathetic. It's a waste of supplies to even keep you alive, boy. You can't even managed to do a simple drawing. Absolutely ridiculous!"
Then suddenly his father's cruel laughter sunk into Quatre like stones into the sea. It was a cold sound, one that Quatre had never quite heard before, but the undertone was clear, and Quatre found his arms wrap about his waist against the pain he knew was coming with that sound.
"Not that I have to worry about that much longer. You've meddled in my affairs long enough. I coddled your mother by letting her birth you herself, and you killed her. Ripped your way fright from her body. No, you've caused enough damage for one lifetime." He didn't know what his father was getting at, but at the moment he didn't care.
His mother. He knew she'd been a kind woman, loving. He vaguely remembered an impossible memory, the muffled voice of his mother speaking to him through her womb. He'd once told his sister about the dream, but she'd called him a liar and slapped him for his efforts. Silence, he'd learned, was a much better virtue.
But his mother had not been silent. As a boy he remembered seeing pictures of her, dancing with his father, playing with his sisters. She'd been beautiful, long silver blond hair that hung in a mass of waves down half her back. Her eyes had been a sparkling blue so intense they didn't seem human. And her smile, perfect teeth and full lips, she could have stopped a room with her smile alone.
She's been perfect, absolutely perfect--until he'd come. He'd been the seed of evil placed in her garden of Eden. As he'd grown, he'd ripped the beauty and strength from the vivacious woman, until she'd been nothing but a shell to harbor his body.
Before the gene test, his sisters had never talked about his mother, preferring instead to talk around her, even when Quatre had asked a direct question. But once the testing had proved his deformity, they hadn't kept quiet, instead, reminding him at every token moment what he'd done.
"Don't you dare cry out when I hit you, you ungrateful brat! You're the cause of your own suffering! If mother hadn't wanted a child so badly, if you hadn't sucked all the life out of her, none of this would be happening!"
"You horrible, horrible child! You kill your own mother and then come to me for comfort. Get out! Get out before I ignore father and ruin something other than those disgusting feet!"
"It's too bad you had to kill your mother, Quatre. If she was alive, I bet father would have come up with an alternative to your.little problem. But alas, you're a murderer, and such unholy acts must be punished, you know. You really are an evil child, Quatre Winner."
"Get up there!" With a shove, Quatre found himself back on the satellite, the memories fading from him but not the pain. He was at the ramp leading up to his father's ship. It was the small shuttle, the one his father used when he thought people were watching his movements too closely. But the shuttle was cool inside and Quatre found at the moment he didn't really care what was going on as long as his feet could feel some relief.
Inside, his father shoved him into a chair and closed the hatch door. Perplexed, he allowed himself a moment of hope that he was finally getting to go home, before he remembered the cruel sound of his father's voice, and that nagging little ability of his that told him he was never going to go home with this man.
His father pulled out a bag that lay tucked in one of the compartments and threw it at him. "Get ready! There's a shower through there, I trust you still know how to properly clean yourself, though from your appearance that may be questionable. Put the clothes on, and don't you dare get anything on them! Don't give me an excuse to kill you now, boy!" With this, his father moved into the cockpit and Quatre obeyed without thought and went to the bathroom.
It was small, but much better than the basin and pitcher he had back at the shelter. The shelter. It was as close to home as he understood it, but now, if his father's feelings were right, he was never going to see it again. Quatre sighed as he turned on the water of the bath. So be it then he thought, he didn't deserve anything better. At least it would be over soon, Allah would cast him down, and he could finally stop being a burden to his father. That and--as he slipped into the water--he was tired, so very tired of it, all of it. He just wanted to rest.
The water had to be changed three times before he was sufficiently clean. Slowly he dried off, savoring the feeling of the towel against his skin. Dry, he opened the bag he'd been given and pulled out the contents. There was a black suit, a pair of undergarments including socks, a dark red tie, and a pair of black gleaming shoes. It was the socks that almost made Quatre start to cry. The open wounds on his feet would surly protest the coarse fabric and he silently contemplated not putting them on. But the pain was so much better than feeling the hate and anger roll off his father when he disobeyed; grimacing and choking back a sob, Quatre pulled the socks on.
Nothing of the outfit fit him. The pants were too big at the waist, and the jacket much too tight. The shirt buttoned fine against his slight form, but the arms were so tight he could barely move. And the shoes, Allah in heaven, they reshaped and pinched, until Quatre thought every blister, every open sore, must be digging it's way back up into his skin, festering until he cut off his own feet in agony. But he didn't dare cry out at the first step he took, he didn't dare call for help as he literally felt the fluid filled sack on his left foot burst from the sock and shoe, he didn't dare sob as the wool socks ground into his now bleeding flesh. No, he didn't have any right to seek mercy, he was an evil child.
He spent the rest of the twenty-four hour trip in one of the back chairs, trying desperately to keep his feet off the floor to alleviate the pressure. Quatre had been asleep when the shuttle touched down on what he later found out was the Maguanac station. His father had roughly jerked him awake.
"Get up! Embarrass me, and I'll beat you until your flesh falls off. Now get up!"
The night had only worsened the pain in his feet, but Quatre moved silently, following quietly behind his father as the man smiled brightly and shook hands with fellow businessmen. Not once did, Raberba Winner introduce the boy straggling behind him as his son, and while many of the people had seemed curious, none had questioned Master Winner.
As they passed through the doors, a console issued them a number, and his father took it before moving against one of the long corridor walls. His father sat down, Quatre stood, and together they waited for Quatre's turn.
He could just barely remember the last time he'd been here. That time too they'd done the same thing, only his father had been more cordial, less violently taunt. Back then, Quatre had been a burden, but not so openly despised. Last time they'd had to wait five days, this time it would only be two.
In the first twelve hours, his father bought food from a vendor, Quatre watched him eat it. Twelve hours after that, his father lay asleep against the wall; Quatre still stood by his side. Twelve hours again, his father had disappeared with a business associate, and for the first time, Quatre sat down and fell asleep. Three hours later he was violently slapped awake. His father took his place against the wall, and Quatre stood, the pain in his feet beyond fire. Twelve hours later, they entered the great hall.
Things happened quickly from there. He disobeyed his father, was beaten in front of witnesses, entered the ranks of the Maguanacs, acquired Rashid as his Teacher, and was discovered as an empath. Then he'd passed out.
* * *
Looking back on it, he'd wanted to die that day. Desperately, he'd wished to just drift off. He wasn't entirely sure he didn't want that anymore either. Rashid hadn't yet questioned him too much on his past, but Quatre could feel him getting more and more curious about it. There were times he noticed Rashid move to say something, only to change his mind and remain silent.
Quatre wasn't sure what he'd say once Rashid finally asked him about his time before the camps. He supposed he'd lie, that he'd tell Rashid only what needed to be said before going silent. Rashid didn't need to know what Quatre had been through, no one needed to know. The humiliation, the desecration, the torture.no one needed to know about those things. He supposed he'd tell Rashid that his Reprogrammer had beaten him, tried to make him transcend the gene in every cell of his body. Quatre thought he'd have to explain where "evil child" came from, but that was an easy enough lie to fabricate. Rashid didn't have to know all the truths of Quatre's life--Quatre didn't even want to know the truths.
It pained him a little to know that he could so easily agree to lie to his Teacher. But the alternative was so much worse; it would be better just to keep it simple, to keep the whole thing from ears that desperately wanted to hear and heal him. But Rashid would hear the real story and try to comfort him, to banish the images from his mind, no, that couldn't happen, he deserved those images.
It wasn't that he believed that Allah hated him anymore; he believed Aisha's chapter completely now. No, it was more that Quatre knew exactly who he was, knew to those people outside this station he was below nothing. It was the pain he felt when he realized he couldn't hate his father, because as far as his father had known, he'd done the right thing, the noble thing. As impossible as it seemed to him now, his father had done so much more for him than could have been expected. Most people in Raberba Winner's position would have just killed their sons, but his father had tried--no matter how twisted that sounded--he'd tried to help Quatre overcome his genes. He'd been cruel and ruthless about it, but he'd tried, and no matter how much Quatre hated him for it, he couldn't actually hate his father at all.
Shaking his head, Quatre thought of other things. He thought about the touching exercises he, Rashid and Abdule did every day. It was always the same, Quatre would lie on the bed and they would lightly touch him for as long as he could stand it. Since returning from the infirmary, Abdule had been forced to only touch his covered body parts, because for some reason he simply could not stand the touch of his brother. They'd tried it of course, again and again, they'd tried, but Quatre's emotions flew into turmoil whenever Abdule touched him. He knew it was hurting his brother, but he couldn't help it. It was as if all of Abdule's emotions flew right into his head at the simple contact, as if Quatre's shields crumbled only when he touched him. He didn't understand why, only that Abdule would smile kindly when Quatre backed away or cried out. Quatre knew that when he fled the room every night, when their emotions became too much for him to control and he ran as far away from them as he could while still being near--he knew that Rashid held Abdule, knew it was Rashid that comforted his brother.
The fact remained however, that the time between the initial touch and when he fled was lengthening. He could now spend almost a half-hour with them before he couldn't stand it anymore. There had been one day actually, where he'd been able to stay with them for forty-five minutes, but he'd not been able to repeat that again.
It was getting easier though, and Quatre was grateful for that, grateful and a little bit scared about what it would all mean. He'd spent his whole life thinking that he was morally evil, that this gene in his body made him unforgivable in the eyes of Allah. But now he knew that wasn't true, that in fact he wasn't evil at all, that he was truly blessed by Allah Himself. But what did that mean?
Quatre bent his head, his face falling into his hands as he breathed deeply.
He was a homosexual. There, he'd said it, at least in his head.
He tried to say it out loud.he couldn't.
He said it in his head again, it sounded weaker this time.
Quatre drew in another deep breath. There wasn't any getting around it, he was a homosexual. But he didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him in that sense. In fact, he didn't feel anything in terms of sex. What he knew about the act of sex he knew from his Reprogrammer and--NO! He wasn't going to think about that anymore!
But still, he didn't see the men around him and feel.what was he supposed to feel? He didn't feel lightheaded, or sick to.his.stomach. Oh God!
He'd felt sick around Wufei all the time! But wait! He'd actually been sick to his stomach, the same with Abdule. OK, so that didn't count, at least he didn't think so. When else had he felt sick to his stomach? Duo and Heero had been with Wufei when Rashid had carried his cramped body to the restroom in the infirmary, so none of them counted. That left only the other day in the Classroom.
Trowa. It'd been Trowa who had made him feel as if something were alive in his stomach, crawling around to let him know it was there. But no, he didn't have.feelings for Trowa. Trowa was his friend, a good friend. Trowa didn't ask him to talk all the time, or try to touch him more than Quatre wanted to be touched.
But was Trowa--Quatre cleared his throat and looked around to see if anyone was in the corridor with him--nice looking? Quatre didn't know. There were a lot of nice looking people in the ranks, but they weren't nice looking just because they were men, at least he didn't think so. Trowa's eyes were nice, but so were Duo's. Trowa's hair was very interesting to look at, but so was Wufei's in that severe ponytail. Trowa was lean and muscular, but Heero was too, and Quatre already knew he'd only gotten sick to his stomach around Heero because of the solid foods. So that meant that Quatre didn't think Trowa looked handsome, nope, instead, he must have actually been a little sick still the last time he saw Trowa, that would explain things.
So that meant that he was homosexual, but didn't think men were.cute. Was that possible? Could he be attracted to men without being attracted to them? Oh, it made his head hurt to think about it!
Shaking his head, Quatre moved his thoughts to another subject.
Rashid. Quatre smiled. Rashid was so good to him. Patient and kind, his Teacher was quite literally the rock he'd held onto this last month. Rashid had been with him every step of the way, guiding him and making him feel safe and comfortable. When it was too hard for him to fall asleep at night, Rashid allowed him to place his hand onto his chest and be swallowed by the sleepiness Rashid projected for him. When he felt embarrassed because of his inability to touch skin to skin, it was Rashid that kissed his hair and brushed his bangs back before telling him not to worry, that he was doing just fine. It was Rashid that encouraged him to return to the violin, allowing Quatre to teach him a little more every night, even though Quatre could tell that Rashid wasn't exactly interested. It was Rashid that Quatre now gravitated to, going to him the moment the giant came home, and staying by his side long into the night. Rashid was more than a rock, he was like the father Quatre had always wished he'd had. Rashid was like air to him, something necessary for life to continue.
Nodding his head at his internal thoughts Quatre stood. There was a lot on his mind, more than most days. Abandoned, then rescued, saved and now loved. It was a lot to assimilate, and Quatre reasoned it would take a lot more than just a few minutes outside the door to the camps.
Squaring his shoulders, Quatre pressed in the passcode and stepped directly into Trowa. Startled, they both took large steps back, and Quatre noticed that Trowa's right hand moved automatically towards his hip in a grabbing motion before it dropped to his side.
They stared at each other for a moment, both too stunned to say or do anything. Finally, Quatre broke the silence.
"I-I thought I'd get some.sun." Was he blushing? No, it must be the heat, it was a lot warmer in the camps, as was evident from Trowa's lack of a shirt.
Trowa tensed for a moment at the sound of his voice, and Quatre watched as the muscles of his abs and chest tightened before releasing.
"Wufei mentioned that no one had seen you outside today. I offered to bring you down myself, I thought your Teacher might be too busy." Trowa's eyes were jumping back and forth over Quatre's face, and it was hard for the blond to keep up with them. It was almost as if Trowa were memorizing his features.
"Rashid and Abdule are napping. I didn't want to wake them up. I-I.I thought I'd try to go to the camps myself today." Sheepishly he broke off, his face dropping from the intense stare of Trowa's searching eyes.
"I did not mean to imply that you couldn't come on your own." There was defensiveness in Trowa's voice, and Quatre didn't like the way it sounded at all.
He shook his head. "No, that's ok. I don't mind. It-it was nice of you to think of me."
Quatre could tell by the startled expression on Trowa's face, that he hadn't meant to say his next words out loud.
"I always think of you."
They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Finally, with what appeared to be a blush, Trowa looked away. "Myself and the others are by one of the pools. If you wouldn't mind the company you may come with me."
Suddenly, the idea of sitting with Trowa was very appealing. Quatre still didn't know very many people in the camps yet, and it would be nice not to have to sit alone knowing everyone was staring at him anyway.
Nodding his consent, he followed Trowa through a maze of pools and silk before a mass of brush opened into one of the more secluded pools. There Quatre saw Wufei reading quietly under the shade of a palm tree; Heero running his hands over his arms applying what Quatre thought must be sunscreen; and Duo, who was playing in the water, trying desperately to catch a water jet as it popped out of the waters surface.
Heero saw them first and smiled kindly. Heero's smiles were often kind, but didn't always reach his eyes, this one however, did. "Hello, Quatre."
Quatre nodded at his friend. "Hi."
"Oi! Quatre! You gotta come in here, the water's perfect! I look like a prune, I swear to God, you should see my fingertips!" The longhaired boy laughed outright and Quatre saw Wufei roll his eyes before hiding his smile.
He offered Duo a small smile before following Trowa to the shade by Wufei. The Chinese boy questioned him about the shake and datapad.
"It's my homework. I didn't get a chance to finish it with Abdule." He paused, slightly ashamed. "I'm still having trouble with numbers above a hundred." He looked away, sipping at his shake to ignore the misery that statement had brought him. He hated to admit not knowing something.
Trowa's voice was light when he spoke, as if he understood and sympathized with how Quatre was feeling. "I could look over it with you if you want."
Quatre looked up, offered a sad half smile and moved closer to Trowa, sitting before him so that they were facing each other.
It was like that for nearly ten minutes. Trowa pointing out simple errors Quatre had made in his number writing, mostly writing them backwards or in some rare cases, upside down. Quatre listened patiently, only speaking to ask a question when he absolutely couldn't follow a word Trowa had said, which was only once. He was actually starting to get the hang of it when Duo came over and dripped all over him.
Startled, Quatre reeled back before looking up and squinting at Duo.
"Oh, sorry, Quatre. Listen, I wasn't kidding about that water. Why don't you take a break and come in for a little while. Besides, you know what they say about all work and no play." It must have been evident on Quatre's face that he had no idea what "they" said. But Duo just shrugged and extended his hand down to Quatre.
With a glance to make sure it was all right with Trowa, Quatre stood on his own and moved over to the water's edge with Duo. The overhead lights of the artificial sun reflected rainbow light patterns across the surface of the water. The light seemed to dance as the warm air blew around Quatre's body. It was so peaceful here, so soft and gentle. The trees swayed in the breeze, and the rustle of the shrubs was like a song to him.
He closed his eyes, the beauty of the place threatening to overwhelm him as he remembered the starkness of his satellite. The conditions had been unbearable there, hot or cold, it didn't matter, there was never a time where it was comfortable. But here, in this beautiful place, there was life all around him; so much so that it fed on itself, giving the illusion of unity in form. It was breathtaking to behold, and Quatre found his throat had tightened at the thoughts running though his head.
With a quick shake, Quatre followed Duo to the edge of the pool.
Smiling, Duo stopped Quatre with a hand to his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now Quatre, there are two ways to get into a pool. The first is you can go over to those steps and slowly wade in--a recommendation for those without swimming experience. On the other hand, the second alternative is--oh, why don't I show you!" And with that, Duo took a flying leap into the pool, sailing about six feet away from the edge. A torrential splash issued out of the pool and Quatre heard Wufei and Heero yelling at their partner.
The thing that caught Quatre as being strange was the fact that his face wore a smile, and he hadn't even had to tell his mouth to make it. A smile he hadn't had to direct, those were few and far between.
Not pausing to think too much about it, Quatre moved over to the steps that lead down into the water. He was about to step in when Duo's head broke the surface.
"Hey Quatre! Take off your sandals first, they track too much dirt into the pools, and I've got pool duty week after next."
Take off his sandals?
Take them off!
Suddenly, going into the pool didn't seem like such a good idea. He took a step away from the lip. He could see Duo's concerned expression out of the corner of his eye.
He tried to take another, was about to tell Duo he'd changed his mind, when he backed up and bumped right up against Heero. The other boy steadied him before dropping his hands. "The water will do you some good, Quatre. Besides, if you stay in there for twenty minutes, I won't make you come and see me later." And then with a smile, Heero dove into the water, barely causing a ripple.
"Showoff! Heero, you're such a flirt!" Duo cried indignantly, before he suddenly realized that Heero's torpedoing form was headed straight for him. With a cry, he too dove under the water and raced towards the island in the middle of the pool, upon which grew a great palm tree.
But in Quatre's head there was a great war being waged. Take off his sandals, expose his feet, or spend an hour with Heero later that night. He didn't mind spending time with Heero, he liked the quiet boy if truth be told, but he and Abdule had started a new strategy game and it would be nice not to have it interrupted by his nightly visit to the gym and Heero. But his feet.
He could just take off his sandals facing away from the pool where Heero and Duo were splashing each other playfully, and to the left, away from Trowa and Wufei. Then he'd only have to spend twenty minutes in the water and finish his homework before he could play the rest of the night with Abdule.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre made his decision and moved to the pool's edge. Silently, and with tiny movements to draw less attention to himself, Quatre released the clasps on his sandals before slipping them off, careful to keep the soles of his feet always pointing downwards. Once removed, he turned his sandals upside down next to the lip before quickly shoving his feet into the water.
He wasn't prepared for the stinging. He wasn't ready for the tiny points of burning fire that jabbed and stabbed at the soles of his feet the moment the water touched them. Liquid fire raced up his legs and Quatre lost his balance under the strain and fell backwards, his lower half submersed as he sat heavily upon the entrance stairs.
"Quatre?" In pain and startled, Quatre shot his head around to see Trowa standing now instead of sitting by Wufei, both his and Wufei's eyes upon him. "Are you alright?"
The pain was like needles forcing their way through his flesh, imbedding themselves into his very bones. It seared his flesh, cut into it like a thousand tiny razorblades streaking across the soles.
Quickly he nodded before trying to stand.
He imagined he could feel the skin splitting now, cracks and chasms opening up between his toes, traveling down until they met at his instep. He imagined the reddish green puss flowing from his open sores, slowly staining the water a disgusting color of decay.
Quatre managed three steps until the pain overwhelmed him. He cried out as his legs buckled under the torturous pain of his own weight; the pads of his feet being eaten alive by the water and the stone bottom of the pool.
For a second he thought he heard someone call his name, but then his head was under the water, the liquid rushing into his mouth. For one tiny moment he considered allowing the clear liquid to fill his lungs, for just a second he considered taking a willing step towards his own destruction. He didn't have time to consider it more than that.
Strong, thin arms suddenly wrapped under his own and lifted his head above the water, pulled his face so that it broke the surface and his one traitorous idea was spoiled as he drew oxygen and not water. He sputtered, coughing up the water he'd accidentally swallowed as he struggled to keep from crying out as his feet scrapped the bottom of the pool.
A few feet from the steps, one of the more jagged rocks tipped with his foot and pressed into the grove marks left by his Reprogrammer. The scream issued from his lips before he could stop it. Blinding agony raced up his leg and wrapped itself around his mind until there was only red and black and nothing else.
It came to him slowly. He didn't recognize it at first. As his vision started to clear, and the ringing in his ears dimmed to a dull tone, he realized there were hands on him, and he wasn't afraid.
He was leaning against someone's chest, smaller than Rashid's, but just as defined. A pair of legs were beside his, so that Quatre knew he sat between the legs of the person that was holding him. There were hands on his knees, one of the fingers had a small gold ring--Duo's hands. And there were Heero's, one on his knee, the other on his hip, steadying him. He recognized Wufei's on his face, those meticulous fingers trying to force Quatre to look at him. But that's not where Quatre wanted to look. With a defeated sort of force, he turned his head to the left and looked up, up into the frightened and worried, emerald eyes of Trowa. He felt fingers skitter across the center of his chest and knew without looking that Trowa's hand was pressed against his heart. He felt his bangs being brushed away from his eyes so he could see more clearly, look more deeply into the concern of Trowa's stare.
He didn't know he sighed, didn't know he was sobbing until the hands that had only been resting on his body began to caress his flesh in comfort and sympathy. Quatre didn't say anything, didn't utter a word, just turned his body into Trowa's and used both of his hands to keep Trowa's own against his heart.
The temperature was a little cooler, the lights a little dimmer when Quatre finally came back to himself. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he imagined it had been a long while; and yet, all four Recruits were still seated around him, all still slowly offering comfort through the touch of his skin. Distantly he heard Duo's voice telling him everything was going to be ok, that everyone had to have a good cry once in a while. He heard Wufei and Heero voice their agreement, and heard Heero offer that he'd cried only last week.
It was such a touching gesture, the admissions of their own shortcomings to ease his suffering. He felt the need to explain, felt the need to tell them what had really happened.
He drew in a shaking breath and shift only slightly away from Trowa's body. But Trowa's hand did not let him go, and while he allowed Quatre to turn to face the other boys, he pulled Quatre's body back, tightly against him in his new position.
Carefully, slowly, Quatre lifted his right foot out of the water bringing it to break the surface and crossing it at his knee so that the sole pointed upwards, so that they could see.
Quatre knew that Wufei had seen his feet before, that wasn't really why he was showing them. He heard Duo gasp at the sight, and while Heero didn't make a sound, the Japanese boy did tighten his hand about Quatre's hip.
His feet were quite simply grotesque. Misshapen stubs of flesh were the closest he could come when describing them. His foot had five toes, but none had toenails. Large chunks of flesh were missing from sporadic areas across the sole, and his heel had deep burn marks like drill bits a quarter inch into the flesh. Grove's of flesh were cut across the pads, most noticeably from middle toe to the bottom of his heel, and from left of the instep to the right. A few chunks of skin were only barely attached, so that the water actually rushed under the flesh, causing it to float minutely away from his foot.
He reasoned his foot looked worse then normal due to its time under the water, but he said nothing about that. When he did speak, it was short sentences, the emotion long since abandoning his voice.
"The Reprogrammer's work. My father told him not to touch my face, too noticeable. My feet were better. Shoes hide the damage. Socks are torture. I used to limp. Got beat for that. I don't limp anymore. They.hurt. All the time. I don't notice it some days anymore. Water makes them hurt more. So do socks. Rocks are..." He broke off, the sob catching in his throat.
There was silence for a moment, and then Wufei broke it. "May I look, Quatre?" He nodded absently and turned into Trowa's neck, closing his eyes as his tall friend ran gentle fingers though his hair.
The exam lasted for only a moment. "I assumed when you did not say anything about the pain, that the nerve endings in your feet had died from the trauma. I wish you had told me sooner, Quatre, there are procedures, ointments I could have given you to ease your suffering."
A minute passed as Wufei waited for him to answer, and finally Quatre just shook his head. He didn't say anything, only shook his head. How could he tell them that he still thought he deserved the pain, that it was his own brand of self-punishment? A reminder of what he'd been through and what he'd die before going back to. He didn't know how to put that into words they'd understand--didn't know if it made sense either way--so he kept quiet.
Suddenly a booming voice broke the quiet of Quatre's contemplation.
"What is going on? Quatre, are you alright?" Rashid's voice startled them all, and Quatre quickly pushed his foot back under the water before his Teacher could see it. He also raced to speak before the others could tell his secret.
"I-I'm fine. It's just--just the water overwhelmed me. I'm sorry, I just haven't seen so much water all in one place before. I-I started to cry. I'm sorry." He dropped his head, not daring to look at the accusing faces around him. He heard Trowa whisper his name but ignored it, instead using all his available strength to push away from the hands around him. He ducked his head pretending to watch his step, as his still burning feet were again forced to support his weight in the water. He made a mad grab for his sandals and quickly stuffed his feet into them before looking up at Rashid. "I'm a little tired now, Rashid. Heero said I wouldn't have to see him tonight if I went into the water for awhile. Do you think I could go home and take a nap?"
"Of course." And with that Rashid propelled him out of the alcove.
At the last available spot before he disappeared behind the bushes, he turned back to look at his friends. They were all staring at him with pure worry and fear in their gazes. He gave them a forced smile.
"Thank you, but I'll be fine now."
None of them looked away as he turned the corner.