Title: Gabriel's Own
Author: Daeleniel Shadowphyre
Feedback: darkone2813 at mindspring dot com
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Romance, Spiritual
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: 4x(3x5)
Summary: Quatre protects that which he considers his.
Warnings: Surreal, descriptions of torture aftermath, light headtrip.
Disclaimer:Gundam Wing and related characters and themes belong to Yoshiyuki Tomino and Hajime Yatate, Bandai and Sunrise, and the Sotsu Agency. This is a non-profit work of fiction.
Notes: Written for SDQB 444 Prompt #12: Judge. Part two of three, I believe, beginning with The Round Table. I claim this story as being spiritual only because of the fact that it's so very surreal. The third and final installment will have to explain it or not, depending on my mood this time next week.
Dedication: To Inanna-- You call, I answer; you command, I obey.
Distribution: Ask, and ye shall receive.
The mission had run sour before the team had even left. Preventers HQ had a line on the arms' dealers fuelling rebel discontent and had dispatched Trowa and Wufei to get in, have a look around, and get out again with the information the Preventers would need to take the organisation down. Reconnaissance work, and simple at that.
Quatre had known about the mission, of course. The approach had been planned out across his dining room table two nights ago, maps littering the surface as points of entry were pinpointed and reviewed, suggestions batted back and forth over disguise and infiltration coupled with more subtle and covert observation. The tremor of unease had started in the base of his spine and worked its way upwards as the plan gradually took shape, but Quatre had kept quiet about it. Dismissed it as just worry for his friends.
He was cursing himself ten times a fool for that now.
The door before him opened with a hiss, permitting Quatre entrance. The room beyond was dim, but not dark. A cursory glance around made Quatre wish it really was dark; he didn't like what he was seeing at all. Trowa and Wufei hung limply against opposite walls, suspended from their wrists by steel manacles. Trowa still wore the stolen uniform of the organisation, now ripped and stained in far too many places. Wufei's black jumpsuit was in worse condition, torn and hanging off him by meagre threads and revealing the angry red lines crisscrossing his torso.
Quatre forced himself to focus on the man at the desk in front of him. He was beautiful, there was no doubt of that, but it was a dark beauty, a beauty that pulled at the fabric of the world and twisted it to a perversion of itself. His eyes were the cold blackness of deep space and his smile was cruel and mocking.
'So,' he said at length. 'The Preventers send their little messenger to gather up the members of their flock.'
'When there is need, even messengers will take up arms to become warriors,' Quatre replied shortly. The man laughed.
'And so you think yourself a rescuer of the Fallen?' he asked, mirth and something darker tingling his expression. 'Their sins are many, you know.'
'No more than mine,' Quatre answered softly. 'We all have Fallen from grace at times, but it is given to us to rise above it.'
'You truly believe that?' the man asked, incredulity and bitterness in his voice now. Quatre lifted his chin slightly, an acknowledgement and a challenge.
'I do,' he said clearly. 'It is given to us to stray and to return, to forgive and be forgiven. To Fall and to Rise.'
'They have done much wrong,' the man countered.
'Their wrongs are not for you to judge,' Quatre said placidly. The man's face took on a calculating smirk, and Quatre felt a brief touch of fear at the sight.
'You wish to speak of Judgement?' he asked in a silky purr. 'Perhaps you even believe that God is the ultimate judge? Why, then, should I not send them to their Judgement?'
'For what purpose?' Quatre countered. 'Their deaths will not absolve you.' He paused, then added coldly, 'Nor will their deaths raise any shield or barrier around you to protect you from my vengeance.'
'What can you do against me, little messenger?' the man scoffed, but he was looking worried.
'"All that I do, so shall you do,"' Quatre quoted, a faint smile crossing his lips. 'Allah holds us all in His hands, but while on Earth these two are mine.'
'And can you support them both?' he asked skeptically, eyeing Quatre's thin frame. Quatre shrugged.
'I have supported them as best I can from afar. So much easier to support them when I stand beside them. Sometimes we stumble or fall,' Quatre said slowly, 'but we always get back up again.'
The two men stared at each other, Quatre with a calm smile, his opponent with a faint frown. The shadows of the room stirred and shifted around them, moving uneasily at the charged feeling of this confrontation of wills, but the two ignored them. Finally, the man sat back, looking thoughtful.
'You love them very much, Gabriel,' he murmured. Quatre inclined his head slightly.
'That I do, Seir,' he said.
Silence again, broken only by the rustle of movement in the shadows. Then the man lifted one hand and snapped. Two men stepped forward from the shadows.
'Release them,' he commanded. The men exchanged glances, but did as they were told, each one going to a separate wall and releasing the man bound there. Quatre refused to flinch at the muffled thumps and involuntary groans as Trowa and Wufei were freed and carried negligently over to him. He waited until the men backed away before he knelt, carefully settling Trowa's left arm and Wufei's right arm over his shoulders, wrapping an arm around each of their waists and standing, pulling his two friends up with him.
'They will be Judged eventually, Gabriel,' the man said suddenly. Quatre smiled briefly.
'It is not for you to decide when, Seir,' he answered. The man nodded faintly, acknowledging his loss.
Without another word, Quatre turned and half-led, half-carried Trowa and Wufei out of the darkened compound and into the light of day.
- Owari -
