Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, its nice to know someone is interested.

Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own any of this.

Warnings: supposedly creep images and slight 3x4

The First Times Never The Charm

Sometimes, late at night, Quatre wondered why. Why did he have to go through
such pain after he had already suffered through an entire life of it? Why he
was the only one of the pilots to have these problems? Why he had ended up
destroying those colonies? What about him was so weak that he would kill so
many people with so little thought? What would it take to for him to truly
be sane?

After about five minutes of pitying himself, the kindhearted nature he was
so often associated with, would assert itself. Others had it worse, much
worse. He was the CEO of a huge company; he had a loving family, caring
lover, and the knowledge of the peaceful times he had helped bring about.
There were people in the world that had nothing; people who had lost
everyone that mattered to them and had to struggle to get by each day.
Quatre was really, really lucky compared to them.

Although that knowledge wasn't very comforting when his head felt ready to
split into two. Yes, he was kind of crazy. Yes, he regularly had delusions
and those sort of things. But why was there always a huge pounding headache
afterward? That seemed a little like overkill. Quatre sighed again, trying
to find comfort in the dark room. Not that the dark was very comforting, it
never had been since his first little 'attack'.

Only one month after that horrible incident with Marimeia, it happened. He
was currently acting as CEO for Winner Enterprises, trying to get back
everything that had been lost during the war. He was also heavily involved
with the deweaponization that was going on throughout the Earth and Colonies.
Quatre was also dating Trowa. Even though he was working in the circus with
Cathy, they still managed to get together every couple weeks. While his life
was kind of hectic he had thought everything was going pretty well.

He had been alone in his office when it had happened. Everyone else had
left; he only stayed so that he could get a head start on the next day's
work. Quatre had quietly been sitting at his desk, when he thought he heard
a noise. He had quickly dismissed it and began to concentrate once more on
his paperwork when the noise sounded again. This time, positive he had he
something, Quatre decided to investigate.

After pulling a gun out of one of his desk draws, he silently walked through
the rest of his office space. He quickly made his way through the doorway
and into the hallway. Nothing was there. Just to be sure, he wandered down
the hall and into the security room. He checked every one of the TV screens
and alarm systems. Nothing was amiss, he had just imagined it.

Shaking his head, he made his way back to his office. Halfway there, his
vision suddenly dimmed. He wiped at his eyes thinking that the need for
sleep had finally gotten to him. It didn't help. He was seeing everything
through a fog, and the edges of his vision were quickly becoming darker.
Seriously worried he hurried back into his office, prepared to call for
someone to drive him home.

As soon as he entered his office, a flicker to his right drew his attention.
Quatre quickly turned that way, bringing his gun up. Nothing was there. He
felt movement to his left and he twirled to face his enemy. Nothing was
there. Confused he closed his eyes, and tried to get a hold of himself.
Again he felt a movement and turned to face it, snapping his eyes open.
Frustration overtook him as he once again found nothing.

A foggy feeling was entering his mind, slowing his thoughts. Was it just him
or where the shadows in the room growing larger, moving around. Curiously he
wandered towards the shadows, still entrapped within the fog. Closer and
closer he went, dropping his gun as he reached out toward the dancing
shadows. A funny thought entered his head; the shadow appeared to be
reaching out to him as well. His heart gave a sudden lurk of fear as he was
an inch from the shadows. Years of trusting this ability caused Quatre to
snap out of his fog induced actions. He quickly snatched his hand back and
backed away from the shadows.

The fear in his heart was terrifying; nothing had ever affected him this
badly. Quatre backed further and further from the menace until he ran into
his desk. Briefly he considered trying to get to his gun, but he couldn't
see a target to shoot. The sensible part of him tried desperately to
rationalize what he could be facing; to figure out what was happening. A
whimper escaped him as whatever it was seemed to start moving across the
room. A slimy, sick feeling was starting to join the fear he was
experiencing. He felt over his skin a kind of wrongness that was emanating
from the shadow. In desperation, Quatre squeezed his eyes close and wished
for what was happening to stop.

And surprisingly it did. The slimy feeling, the fear, had all suddenly
disappeared. Quatre breathed a sigh of relief, before opening his eyes ready
to see his normal office. But that was not what he saw when he opened his
eyes. Cold sweat washed over him, as voices flew over the intercom system
and the view he was seeing became recognizable to him. He was back in Wing
Zero with the zero system. Before him he saw the mobile suit, Mercuruis with
Heero in it. In his hands he felt the familiar control for the beam rifle
and his hand closing to trigger it.

As his body fought to prevent the action, his mind was in despair thrown
back into this moment in his own memories. The moment Trowa had taken the
shot meant for Heero. Hard as he tried, he still could only watch as the
trigger was pulled and, almost in slow motion Trowa was hit and sent flying.
Shock ran through him as he watched the Vayeate float away before exploding.
It wasn't real; he must have fallen asleep at his desk. He could not be
reliving this. Yet the feel of the suit around him, the noise over his
intercom system, and the tears streaming down his face were all convincing
his body that it was real. That it was happening again. Quatre brought his
hands up to pull at his hair, closed his eyes, and screamed a scream filled
with pain and suffering.

When his eyes opened, he was sitting on his office floor screaming. He
abruptly stopped and looked around. Nothing was out of place, everything was
perfectly normal. He could see perfectly fine and his space heart gave no
indication of danger. He must have dozed off and had a bad dream; it
wouldn't be the first time. Suddenly tired, he moved around his desk and
started to gather his papers, it was time for him to go home. Just as he
closed his briefcase the phone next to him started to ring. At first he
planned to ignore it, but then remembered that Trowa had started calling him
at work the nights he decided to stay late. While Trowa was generally tired
from the days work for the circus, his presence over the phone line was a
great relief for Quatre.

"Hello." Quatre practically chirped into the phone. Talking with Trowa was a
sure guarantee to get ride of his lingering fears from his dream. However
after a moment or two with no answer, Quatre started to worry.
"Hello...Trowa?"

"MURDERER!" the voice blasted from the phone, full with hatred. Dropping the
phone, Quatre turned to flee out the office door when he felt a weight on
his ankle. Looking down he saw a hand attached to his ankle, the only thing
he saw was a hand. Screaming, he kicked it away and closed his eyes,
feverishly wishing away the sight before him.

Things were worse when he opened his eyes again. The shadows had returned to
haunt all the outskirts of the room. All the mad feelings he had previously
associated with came back, except it now had a new addition. Things,
creatures, were coming out of the shadows. Slowly they were crawling,
pulling themselves to him. The smell and the fear in his heart threatened to
send him into unconsciousness.

Whatever they were that was heading his way, they didn't seem to be a good
thing. The feeling he felt directed to him from them confirmed that belief.
It was all hatred, hatred directed solely at him. Frozen, he watched as the
white creatures began to move closer and closer to him. A smell rose from
them. It was a horrible putrid stink; it reminded Quatre of the smell of a
dead body. His mind went blank as he finally registered what he was facing.

It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. He was seeing things. But the feeling
he got from his space heart told him that these creatures were real. But
they just couldn't be; bodies just didn't show up suddenly to attack a
person. But these were definitely bodies. His mind tried to make some sense
from the situation as he watched the white things come forward. None of them
were whole bodies; each one seemed to be missing pieces. And they seemed to
be covered in black areas. Black areas that looked a whole lot like burn
marks.

Creepy keening noises sounded from the creatures throats. The pain and
sorrow that filled Quatre's mind sent tears pouring from his eyes. He closed
his eyes and put his hands over his ears. He started to mutter words in
Arabic under his breathe. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. There weren't
bodies; he was perfectly safe and alone in his office. It wasn't real. He
squeezed his eyes and clenched his fisted hands until blood sprouted from
his fingernail's cuts. He would open his eyes and it would all go away.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre opened his eyes.

One of the creatures was now clinging to his shoulders, its burnt and
bloated body hanging off him. Others were crawling closer and closer,
filling his senses with the smell of fire and death. One reached up and
grabbed his hand, it was small. It was a child. All of Quatre's attention
focused on the small body attached to his hand. Part of its hair was in
pigtails, the other part of its face was burnt beyond recognition. Somehow
he found the voice that he had lost and started a low keening noise.

The thing looked up at him and cried, "Mama. Where is my Mama?" The cries
coming from Quatre were now loud and staggered as he struggled to breathe
properly. It was so horrible, and he had killed them. He had been the one to
do this to them. He could feel these corpses, his victims as the closed in
on him, grabbing his legs and trying to pull him down. They were piled one
on top of another, each trying to claw their way to him.

As he struggled to see through his teared up eyes and to control his
screams, he noticed some of the creatures suddenly stiffen. He could
blurrily make out a figure coming towards him. Blinking his tears out of his
eyes he saw what was coming his way. It was one of the corpses, walking and
whole. At some point in time it had been a woman, long black strands of hair
still hung from parts of the scalp. Somewhere in the back of his mind a
small voice pointed out how she looked less burnt than the others and the
remains of a dress but his terror overrode that voice.

The figure, it didn't seem right to call it a woman, was slowly wading its
way through its companions and towards him. While he could still feel the
others' clammy hands as they tugged at him, it was the only thing he could
focus on. Even though they were still there, his senses seemed to be cutting
them off and focusing on it. In this small interlude, his screams and tears
came back under his control. While his vision was still out of whack he
managed to concentrate on the thing's face. Relatively calm, he watched it
walk towards him until it stopped a foot in front of him.

For a moment it cocked it head to the side, considering him. Then a wicked
grin seemed to spread over it face. Seeing that grin, Quatre's heart stopped
a moment, too afraid of what could be coming next. In almost slow motion,
the thing leaned forward putting its face right in his. Quatre had a second
to register its rancid breath on his face before it spoke.
"How about a kiss lover."

"Murderer!"

"Monster!"

"You killed us all!"

The screams Quatre cried were silent as everything came crashing down on
him. Terror, guilt, hatred, loss, and pain. Gasping for breathe and
struggling to relieve the pressure on his heart, Quatre stumbled backwards
tripping over something. His head hit the corner of his desk with an echoing
crack, giving him over to unconsciousness. The cries of injured souls were
the last thing his ears heard.

Some time later, Quatre was awakened by a constant ringing noise. He reached
out with his right hand, determined to shut off his alarm clock. After some
grasping turned nothing up and the ringing continued, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed after he eyes adjusted was that this was not his
bedroom and that he was lying on the floor. He took in the sight of his
office, wondering why he was still there. He stood up, noticing the stuff
that had fallen off his desk. As he was reaching down he felt something on
his forehead and reached up to touch it. When he looked at his hand there
was blood, his blood. He had hit his head on his desk.

Quatre's attempts to remember were interrupted as the phone began to ring.
The sudden familiarity of the situation jogged Quatre's memory. For a second
he struggled to breathe as he remembered the bodies and the voices that had
been after him. He struggled to remain calm while the memory of the voice
over the phone played fresh in his mind. He couldn't break down and run or
cry. He had to answer the phone.

With a shaking hand Quatre reached over and picked up the phone. "Hello?" he
asked with a wobbling voice.

"Hey, it's me." A calm voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Trowa, its just Trowa." He whispered into the air around him.

"Quatre, what's going on?" Spoke the worried voice from the other end of the
line.

"Are you real? Please be real, I don't know what I would do if you weren't
real." Quatre sobbed into the phone, tears pouring from his eyes. Everything
suddenly became way too much for him.

"Of course I'm real. Quatre, what happened? Quatre answer me!" Trowa's voice
became more urgent as nothing passed from the other end of the line. For a
moment Trowa thought that Quatre was no longer there when he heard a small
whisper.

"Am I real?" Then the phone connection went dead.

After the connection had been lost, Trowa had quickly called down to Rashid
back at Quatre's mansion. As soon as he could, Rashid rushed to check on
Quatre. He had gone and hopped on the next plane back to Quatre. Quatre
sighed in the darkness, remembering their worried faces above him after he
awoke from several days of sleep. For awhile after that incident he had put
everything down as some bad dream. But after other incidents he had been
forced to admit that something was wrong.

He had seen the best doctors in the world, both physical and mental, but
nobody had been able to help him. This was something he would have to deal
with by himself. Several people had brought up the fact that it could be
caused due to his guilt from the Zero incident, but that first time had been
the only time that it had come up. He wasn't crazy; he just wasn't well all
the time.

Quatre snuggled back under the covers, it was best to just try to move on
with his life. Still that didn't help his headache. Grouchily he reached out
and grabbed two more pills off his bedside table, it didn't matter that he
had already taken two he was in real pain. He settled back down and arranged
himself again. He really needed to get some sleep, Trowa was coming in
tomorrow and he had taken the day off specifically so he could spend time
with him. He pulled the covers up to his eyes, trying to go to sleep, trying
to ignore the feelingofbadnesshe felt coming from the darkness.

The End

Author's Note: So what did you think? I've got several more chapters planned out, so I figure as long as someone is interested I'll continue. All comments are welcomed.