I am so sorry I haven't updated this in forever. Life was just crazy, and I apologize to everyone I left hanging. I know I probably lost a lot of fans by not updating, but I'm hoping those of you who enjoyed the story before will come back to it. I'll do my best to get the rest of it up in the near future.
Very special thanks to Reliak (aka K-chan) for being my beta, my critic, and my all-around support while I worked on this chapter! Love you!
Thanks to the following people for their reviews last time. I hope you all return to read more.
Demonforged, Reliak, Carol Coates, Kinkosami, Togona, Wishful Thinker8, Amy, SeppukuSamurai, Sanea, MsManga, Rikothedeathangel, Dalamar's Mercy, Yui-mag, KitsuneNekoTigi, Tri, Deaths Fallen Angel, Crysania Fay, Nakita, Jennilyn Maxwell, dstrbd child, nu, keyblademaster18, sindynotlogin, Kerry Emmanuelle, …, Akari Hoshi, laura, Manda, Silver Queen, Beff, Bombayoni, Nips, Muchacha, YukiNoHana1, yuffiegal, Two-Bit Wannabe, tati1, kantomon, and nikki.
Please review for me, and you'll get a personal shout-out in the next chapter. I'm interested in what people have to say. Thanks for reading!
The night Duo had not come back had been the worst night of any of their lives. Duo had been the glue that had held their little band together. He was the one who knew the most and the one who could do anything. They all felt powerless without him.
Word had trickled down through the camp to them that Duo had been caught with medicine. Stealing from "the Fatherland" was a capital offense, and rumor spread that Colonel Treize Khushrenada had personally pulled the trigger. Quatre had cried himself to sleep. Wufei had sat with his eyes closed long into the night, and Heero brooded silently, his own eyes unreadable except for a chilling fire that burned in their depths. But the worst had been Trowa, who had been coughing blood all evening, unable to even sit up from the bed. He had been struggling for breath just before he fell asleep, and, in the morning, when Wufei had been the first one to open his eyes, he had found Trowa's body next to him, his limp hand resting lightly on Quatre's, his smooth features calm and peaceful.
Wufei had hauled Quatre off the bed before Quatre could fully comprehend that Trowa was dead. But Trowa was not there that evening. His body had been cleared away like a piece of trash. Quatre wanted to scream and scream until the world faded away, but Wufei had simply pushed him down, covered him with a blanket, and ordered him to close his eyes. For the second night in a row, Quatre cried himself to sleep.
Quatre refused to get out of bed the next morning. He sat perfectly still, his legs crossed under him, his arms wrapped around his too-thin body, eyes unseeing.
"Quatre, let's go!" Heero nearly bellowed in his ear for the third time. The blond teenager didn't even bat an eye.
"We're going to leave you," Wufei threatened, his black eyes angry.
Quatre shook his head numbly. "No…"
"Yes. Now come on."
"N… No… I can't…"
"You can!" Heero growled in frustration.
"No… I need them."
"They're dead!" Heero hissed angrily. "They're dead, and they're not coming back!"
"Heero… I loved them."
"I know. We all cared for them," Wufei admitted softly, giving Heero a glance. Though nothing moved, the stoic boy's navy eyes revealed the same.
"Wufei… I… I can't go on without them. I just can't."
"Oh, for the love of-," Heero snapped angrily. "Why don't you grow a spine? Duo and Trowa were not your whole life! We all miss them, goddammit! People die every day! Stop acting like you're the only person who ever lost someone they care about!"
Quatre stared at Heero in shock, two tears gliding silently down his cheeks.
Wufei sighed and ever so awkwardly placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "Quatre… Duo gave his life to try to save you. And Trowa. And me, and Heero. He lost his life to try to save Trowa because he knew he meant so much to you, gave you a reason for living. Do you want his death to be in vain?"
Quatre looked up at Wufei with sorrow-filled eyes. "No."
"Then stop acting like your life is over! If you give up now, Duo's death will mean nothing, and Trowa will have been nothing to you. Is that what you want?"
"No… No!"
"Then get up."
Quatre looked like he wanted to resist again, but he just nodded slowly. "Why are you caring so much for me?"
Wufei's hand slid away from Quatre. "We made Duo a promise. He asked us that if anything should happen to him, we'd look after you and Trowa… And since both he and Trowa are gone… We are duty-bound to honor that promise."
"Is that all I am, a promise?"
"No." Heero's flat voice interjected this time. "Get your ass off this bed before we throw you off of it!"
Quatre swallowed hard and nodded, scrambling off the bunk, followed closely by Wufei. As he reached the floor, the tiniest hint of a smile graced his lips. Heero cared. Thank you, Duo, he thought. You cared for me, even in death. Now I will take care of them for you. And that was when he made up his mind.
"Commander Khushrenada, Prisoner P133824 to see you."
The young, nutmeg-haired officer looked up from the papers on his desk to the woman in the doorway. "Ah, yes. Send him in. Thank you."
The soldier clicked her heels together and left the doorway. Treize smiled to himself. Just as he had predicted, Quatre had come to him.
A moment later, the woman reappeared, pushing in front of her a young boy with blue eyes too big for his face. "Sir."
"Thank you, Noin. You are dismissed. Please close the door behind you."
The soldier clicked her heels again and held her arm out straight. "Heil." She turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Treize watched her go, then turned to the blond teenager standing forlornly in the middle of the room, looking very much like a puppy with its tail between its legs. "Well, Herr Winner. Have you made your decision?"
"You killed them." Quatre's voice was unnaturally low and deep. "You killed them both."
"Now, now, Quatre. You know that is how it is here in the camp. Those who steal from the Fatherland are punished. I could not appear weak in front of my men."
"Even if it meant the death of the two people who meant the world to me?"
"Aren't you perhaps being a bit dramatic? Won't you sit down?" Treize gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
"No!" Quatre stood his ground. "You're nothing more than a murderer!"
"You seem to forget, Herr Winner, that I am the one who holds your life in my hands right now," Treize intoned coolly. "I could have you killed where you stand."
"Then do it," Quatre challenged sharply.
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Quatre. I want what I want, and I will not be ordered around by you. And what I want is you. You are no good to me dead. Now… What is your answer?"
Quatre seethed silently, but inside he knew that no matter what he had no choice. The instant Treize had laid eyes on him, he had had no choice. He would be Treize's, with or without his consent, and that was that. But he couldn't let himself forget that this was the man who had killed Duo and had let Trowa die.
"You have two other friends, don't you?" Treize questioned, almost conversationally. "Don't you want to help them? Certainly a few bites of bread for them is worth it."
That was what he wanted. Heero and Wufei had promised Duo they would care for him when they could just as easily have abandoned him. He needed to repay them. "Will you protect them?"
"I can't protect anyone but you, Quatre. But I give you my word that I will not harm them."
"And you will… give me things?"
"Indeed. Warm clothing, hot food and plenty of it, a hot bath. Any luxury you want."
"Can Heero and Wufei be moved to a better location?"
"No. That would be suspect on my part. But perhaps a few extra blankets might suffice?"
"That would be nice. And some good food for them?"
"Of course. Bread, margarine, cheese, potatoes. Perhaps some milk as well?"
Quatre nodded slowly. He felt sick to his stomach. "Yes."
"Would you like something yourself right now? Some soup? Coffee? Champagne?"
"No…"
"Some water? Perhaps a shower? Would you like to wash some of that dirt off your pretty face?"
Quatre's hand flew to his cheek in both flattery and shame. "When are we-?"
"Now. Today. Yes, today. Before you change your mind."
Quatre swallowed hard. "Right now?"
"Yes. Go wash off in the bathroom. I want you clean. Go." He waved Quatre towards the bathroom attached to the office.
Quatre stared at him for a moment, then headed for the bathroom, closing the door securely behind him.
Treize watched him, smiling to himself. He moved over to lock the office door, ensuring that he would have privacy. Quatre was his now. It was too perfect.
Quatre stood in front of the mirror for a long time, just staring at his reflection. He hadn't seen his own face in what felt like years. There was a large smudge of dirt on one pale cheek, and his eyes looked sunken and dead in his too-slender face. His usually brilliant blond hair lay limp, matted, and dirty against his head. What did Treize see in him?
He finally shook himself out of his mental daze to take his clothing off for a long, hot shower. The warm water felt so good on his grimy, sun-damaged skin. He dried himself off on one of the fluffy towels, then dressed again. He took a deep breath and stepped back out into the office
Treize stepped out of another room behind the office at hearing the bathroom door open. "Come here, Quatre."
It was a bedroom attached to the office. Treize stood by the door, allowing Quatre in, then closed the door behind him. "Please," he said, gesturing to the bed.
Quatre ever so slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. He could still say no, still try to run. But Heero, and Wufei…
Treize slid onto the bed next to him, resting both hands on Quatre's tense shoulders. "No need to be afraid. If you cooperate, it shouldn't be very rough. I will not try to hurt you."
Quatre swallowed hard. "I'm only doing this for my friends."
"And I'm only doing this for your body. You want the luxury you've always known. There's no denying that."
"No. I'm doing this for Heero and-."
"Look in your heart, little one. That's what you want."
"Just get this over with. I want to be back to my barrack by the end of the day."
"Do not order me around," Treize replied, giving his arm a warning squeeze. Quatre winced.
Treize moved behind him, starting to massage his shoulders. "You're too tense."
"Do you expect me to be calm?" Quatre asked softly.
"No, but I expect you to at least be quiet and not so demanding."
Quatre swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Then lie down."
Quatre slowly complied, stretching out on the bed on his back. It was like sleeping on clouds compared to the hard planks of their bunk, but he barely felt it. His whole body seemed heavy, but his mind felt as if it were floating, drifting out of the window and up into the pale blue sky. He barely felt Treize give his cheek a gentle caress.
He did his best to block out what happened after that. He remembered Treize's hands, trying to coax him into enjoying it, but he couldn't. He remembered the pain, though Treize did everything he could to make it not hurt. The hands, the heat, the tongue, touching, teasing, rubbing, kissing, caressing…
By the time it was over, Quatre felt as if he had been buried under a ton of trash. "You may shower again if you wish, while I collect some things to send with you," Treize said after it was over, running his fingertips languidly down Quatre's smooth side.
Quatre nodded slowly, facing away from Treize, his blue eyes full of tears of humiliation and shame, but he would not let them fall. He had done it, just as Treize had said he would.
"Would you like anything? Something to drink? Eat?"
"No," Quatre whispered softly. Inside his body felt hot and pulsing, and he didn't like it, but what could he really do? If he complained, it would just make him appear childish.
The sheets rustled as Treize got up, pulling on his pants, then searching for his shirt. Quatre slowly got up. He caught up his clothing from the floor. He moved into the bathroom, walking a bit slower than usual until the aching faded. He closed the door, turning on the water as hot as it would go. He stepped under the scalding spray and just stood still, letting it wash over his body, washing away the filth. Only when he was sure he could not distinguish his own tears from the droplets that fell onto his face did he allow himself to cry.
When he finally emerged again some time later, dried and clothed, Treize was all dressed, looking as unruffled as ever, and holding several things for him. A paper-wrapped loaf of bread, a small container of milk, a wax-covered cheese, several potatoes, a big, woolen blanket, and a tin container. Inside the tin were two dozen cigarettes.
"Here is your half of the deal, Quatre. These cigarettes you and your friends may use to trade for food, clothing, whatever suits you." Quatre blinked at the words. How did Treize know that such things occurred amongst the prisoners and even the guards? Evidently he looked confused because Treize gave him the predatory smile of a hunting lion. "Oh, I know what goes on in my camp, Herr Winner. I see no harm in a few bites of bread. All the Jewish filth shall die soon anyway."
"They're not filth!" Quatre hissed softly. "They're human beings, just like us."
Treize smirked regally. "You sound like a newcomer, little prince. They are nothing more than animals."
"You're wrong!"
"Unlike you, little one. You are perfect, you see? You're the ideal Aryan, so you will never have to fear for your life. You will serve the Fatherland well."
"Never."
"Get out."
Quatre glowered darkly, but he nodded. Treize moved to the door and unlocked it. He stepped out and beckoned to a nearby soldier with handsome eyes and long, blond hair. "Lieutenant, please escort this boy back to Barrack 19. Do not let anyone touch him or anything in his possession."
"Yes sir!" The soldier clicked his heels together, then cast a surprised glance over at Quatre. He recovered just as quickly. "Come with me."
Quatre moved towards the door. Treize leaned down as he passed him. "Two days from now you will come to me during lunch."
Quatre's cheeks burned with shame in answer as he moved to the side of the soldier in the doorway. The man closed the door behind them, smiling gently at Quatre. "Quatre Winner, yes?"
"Yes…"
"Lieutenant Zechs Merquise at your service. Come with me."
Quatre slowly followed after him, his eyes on the floor, his arms tightly clenching the precious bundles he carried. They did not pass many inmates, but the few they did stared at his packages with envy and at him with an empty sort of loathing. Quatre wondered if they could tell what he had done. He felt like his shame was radiating out from him for everyone to know exactly what he was. Everyone knew he was Colonel Treize Khushrenada's whore, who would sell his soul for a hot shower and a slice of bread. He ducked his head lower, trying to hide his face from the eyes that looked straight through him.
Once they reached the barrack, Zechs pushed open the door to allow Quatre to enter. Quatre stepped inside. It was still very early in the afternoon. No one else was back yet. He turned to the soldier, giving him a polite smile that he could tell did not reach his eyes. "Thank you for escorting me back."
Zechs nodded and bowed his head. "You're welcome." He made no move to leave the doorway.
Quatre frowned. "Is there something else you want?"
Zechs straightened up. "You are friends with Heero Yuy, aren't you?"
"Yes," Quatre said slowly.
"Will you tell him something for me?"
Quatre found this an odd request, but the man seemed so concerned. "Of course," he replied graciously.
"Tell him not to do anything stupid," Zechs replied with a perfectly resolved face.
Quatre nodded slowly. Heero was often so dead-set on his objectives that he didn't realize they were futile, so the advice was warranted. "I'll tell him. Thank you."
Zechs gave him a thin-lipped smile. "I hope he'll listen to you." And then he was striding away, back towards the camp's gate. Quatre watched him go in surprise. He hoped Heero did too.
Quatre couldn't wait for Heero and Wufei to return that night, if only because he had his new acquisitions, which he kept hidden under the blanket as the other prisoners milled around. They would steal anything and everything they could to survive, but Quatre forced himself to remain steadfast and hard-hearted. He couldn't help everyone. As Duo had said, he had certain people he had to look after.
Wufei and Heero returned together, heavy-eyed and slouching. They clambered up to the top of the bunk silently. Wufei gave Quatre the barest hint of a smile. Quatre smiled weakly back. "Are you all right?"
"We're fine," Heero replied, scratching his elbow.
"I have a surprise for you." Quatre forced himself to sound cheerful even though all he wanted to do was scream. He had thought it through and decided his friends didn't need to know about the disgusting things he had done in Treize's bedroom. That didn't matter. What mattered was that he had something to provide for the people who were the closest thing he had right now to family.
"What is it?" Wufei couldn't have sounded less uncaring if he had tried, and Quatre forced back a surge of anger. Wufei and Heero were exhausted after twelve hours of nonstop manual labor. Of course they would be snippy and tired. He gestured them closer. The last thing he wanted was the several hundred other men in the barrack seeing his treasures. They would be beaten up for them at best, killed at worst. Once they were close enough, Quatre pulled back the blanket to reveal his hidden cache. Wufei's dark eyes went wide, his mouth opening in shock, and Quatre almost laughed to see actual surprise register on Heero's normally stoic face.
"Quatre! Where did you…?" Wufei's words were no more than a soft exhalation.
"My secret," Quatre replied guardedly. "It's for all of us."
Wufei shook his head. "Quatre, we can't. If we get caught-."
"We won't. And, even if we do, the guards won't do anything." Treize wouldn't let them get in trouble for a gift he had given. There would be too many questions with awkward answers.
Wufei's eyes flickered a bit, and, for one long moment, Quatre feared that Wufei had figured out his shameful secret, but, the next moment, Wufei merely nodded. "Thank you."
Quatre nodded, smiling softly at the two boys. "We'll have a real feast. And I can get more."
"You don't have to do that," Wufei insisted softly as Quatre pulled out the bread and began to tear it into equal pieces.
"I do," Quatre replied firmly, handing a piece to each of them and starting on the cheese and sausage.
"What sorts of things can you get?" Heero asked curiously as he stacked his food into a makeshift sandwich.
Wufei glowered at Heero. "Absolutely not."
Quatre frowned. Evidentally they had discussed something dangerous without him if he knew what Heero wanted. They always discussed things without him. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Wufei replied firmly in a voice that told them both that the conversation was over.
Quatre went silent, beginning to nibble on his own meal. He wasn't at all hungry, even for meat, even though he hadn't eaten all day. As Heero and Wufei ate their own food eagerly, he pulled out the tin of cigarettes, dividing them again into three equal piles. "Here. We can use these to trade."
"Quatre… We can't accept these," Wufei insisted. "Whatever you did, these were given to you. We can't just take them from you."
"But I got them for all of us," Quatre said stubbornly. "I want you to have them."
"No."
"Please," Quatre begged softly.
Perhaps that would have worked with Duo and Trowa, but Wufei was not about to give in to Quatre's large eyes. "Not unless you tell us what you did to get them."
Quatre swallowed hard. "I… I can't."
"Then we won't take them," Wufei replied, going back to nibbling on his bread and meat.
They all went silent for a long time after that, finishing off all the bread, milk, meat, and cheese but saving the potatoes for the next day, hidden, wrapped up in a scrap of cloth. The tin of cigarettes went in next to it, and the wool blanket was spread out over their other ones. Combined with the blankets left by Duo and Trowa, they slept quite comfortably and warmly side-by-side-by-side.
Quatre was awakened in the middle of the night by both Heero and Wufei leaving the bunk to run to the privy. They were up and down for the rest of the night. Unaccustomed to the rich food and the amount of it that they had eaten that night, their stomachs rebelled with food poisoning. Quatre felt terrible for making them sick, but Wufei reassured him that they were grateful nonetheless.
The next evening, they shared the potatoes for a much better dinner than the sandy bread and muddy coffee they had been served earlier. Quatre offered the cigarettes again.
"I told you. Tell me where you got them, and we'll accept them," Wufei replied firmly.
Quatre sighed. "I can't."
"Why not?" Heero asked with narrowed, cobalt eyes.
"Because, you'll be angry."
"We won't. We're worried about you," Wufei said sternly. Heero's face didn't change.
Quatre picked at the corner of his blanket. "You shouldn't. I just want to take care of you."
"Tell us," Wufei insisted.
Quatre shook his head. Wufei sighed in irritation and threw up his hands. "Fine. Do what you want. You always do."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Quatre demanded.
"All we're trying to do is help you."
"You've already done that. Now it's my turn to take care of you."
"But you'll lie to us to do it."
"I'm not lying to you."
"You're not telling us the truth."
"The truth doesn't matter. What matters is that I can help you now!"
Wufei suddenly vaulted off the side of the bed. "Fine. Your choice. I'll be back later." And he vanished out the barrack door that stood open.
Quatre stared after him before turning to Heero in surprise. "I didn't mean…"
Heero gazed back at him for a moment before lying back on the bed. "He'll come back when he's ready."
Quatre sighed and lay next to him. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Heero."
Heero shook his head once. "I'm not upset. It's your business."
Quatre smiled softly and pulled a blanket up around him. After a moment Heero glanced over at him. "You're willing to share those cigarettes? You know how valuable they are."
Quatre nodded firmly. "It's only fair. Do you want yours?"
Heero sat up and slowly nodded. Quatre retrieved the tin and counted out Heero's portion.
"Don't tell Wufei," Heero said as he tucked the cigarettes safely into his shirt.
"I won't," Quatre promised. And, when Wufei returned half an hour later, Quatre only apologized.
"It's all right," Wufei replied, curling up on the bunk. "I just want to protect you."
"And I appreciate it, with all my heart," Quatre answered softly. "I'm just not really in the mood to talk about it."
Wufei was silent for a moment before his eyes shifted down. "It's been a rough few days."
Heero and Quatre nodded in silent acquiescence. Wufei watched the strip of sunlight that came through the open door slowly shrink as the sun vanished behind the buildings of the camp. "But I know Duo and Trowa would not want us to be upset."
"But it's not right that no one should mourn them," Quatre said softly. "If we don't remember them, who will?"
"We'll remember them," Wufei said gently, his beetle black eyes gazing firmly into Quatre's.
"But they deserve a proper rest," Quatre replied.
Wufei blinked. "Is there a way to do that?"
"Well, I think… at least a prayer, right? So their souls will hear it?"
Wufei frowned a bit. A prayer… His family had not been very devout. He couldn't recall a single time when he had prayed by himself for anything. Now that he was thinking about it, no words came to mind. The only thing he could think of was Meilan and his parents. "I… I don't know what to say, Quatre."
"Me neither… Heero, I don't know much about Judaism," Quatre said softly, turning to the other teen, each word slow and deliberate. "But wasn't there… a prayer for the dead?"
"The Mourner's Kaddish," Heero replied, the words of the prayer immediately coming back into his mind. How long had it been since he had thought of them?
"Would you… would you teach it to me?"
"You want to learn it?" Heero asked in surprise.
"Y… Yes… I… I need to. I need to recite it for Trowa, and… and for Duo. Please… Please teach me."
"Quatre, I haven't prayed in so long."
"But you remember it, right?"
"I do."
"Please, Heero? I would really appreciate it." Quatre's eyes were focused on nothing but Heero's face.
Heero felt his resolve crumble into ash. "All right. In Hebrew?"
Quatre nodded. Heero took a deep breath.
"Yit-gadal v'yit-kadash sh'mey raba, b'alma di v'ra hirutey, vyam-lih mal-hutey b'ha-yey-hon uv'yomey-hon uv'ha-yey d'hol beyt yisrael ba-agala u-vizman kariv, v'imru amen.
Y'hey sh'mey raba m'varah l'alam ul'almey alma-ya.
Yit-barah v'yish-tabah v'yit-pa-ar v'yit-romam v'yit-na-sey v'yit-hadar v'yit-aleh v'yit-halal sh'mey d'kud-sha, b'rih hu, leyla min kol bir-hata v'shi-rata tush-b'hata v'ne-hemata da-amiran b'alma, v imru amen.
Y'hey sh'lama raba min sh'ma-ya, v'ha-yim aleynu v'al kol yisrael, vimru amen.
Oseh shalom bim-romav, hu ya-aseh shalom aleynu v'al kol yisrael, v'imru amen."
Quatre listened attentively, and Heero was sure Wufei was listening as well. When he finished the prayer, he bowed his head a moment before looking up at the blond boy. Quatre looked as if he had been holding his breath. "What does it mean?"
"Magnified and sanctified be God's great name in the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom soon, in our lifetime. Let us say: Amen.
May His great name be praised to all eternity.
Hallowed and honored, extolled and exalted, adored and acclaimed be the name of the Holy One, though He is above all the praises, hymns, and songs of adoration which men can utter. Let us say: Amen.
May God grant abundant peace and life to us and to all Israel. Let us say: Amen.
May He who ordains harmony in the universe grant peace to us and to all Israel. Let us say: Amen."
"But, Heero… That doesn't mention death at all. Why is it a prayer for the dead?" Quatre asked softly, his voice hushed, as if he was in church, afraid to raise his voice.
Heero hesitated, thinking about it for a moment. "I… I think what it is… It's a celebration of life for those who mourn the dead."
"But why would that be a prayer for the dead if it celebrates life?"
"Quatre, I don't know. I don't ever pray anymore."
"Oh… I… I'm sorry," Quatre replied, looking away shamefully.
"It's all right… You wanted me to teach you?"
"Yes," Quatre replied softly. "If you wouldn't mind…"
"In Hebrew?"
"Yes."
Heero nodded slowly. "Yit-gadal v'yit-kadash sh'mey raba," he began.
"Yit-gadal v'yit-kadash sh'mey raba," two voices echoed after him. Heero and Quatre both looked up to see Wufei slowly repeating the words as well.
"B'alma di v'ra hirutey."
"B'alma di v'ra hirutey."
Heero taught them the whole prayer. Both learned very quickly, and they soon repeated the prayer on their own, Quatre for Duo and Trowa, Wufei for his family. It was quite encouraging, he thought, watching Wufei's bowed raven head as he prayed the words quietly to himself. He knew that Wufei's family had not been extremely religious, while Quatre had been brought up Christian, yet they both desperately needed to pray for their families and friends, and they were asking him for a special prayer.
Quatre was fiddling with his fingers in his lap as he prayed, and Heero caught the glint of tears running down his face. He hesitated before slowly reaching out and touching one of the tiny hands awkwardly. "Quatre…"
Quatre glanced down at the hand, then up at Heero in surprise. Heero gave his hand a squeeze. "Don't cry…"
"Heero… I miss them so much… I want to go home…"
"I know." Heero patted his hand uncomfortably before pulling away. "You'll be all right."
Quatre sniffed, swiping at his eyes. "I want them back…"
Heero was quiet, watching Quatre a moment before sighing softly. "Go to sleep now. You need to rest."
"You won't leave?" Quatre asked softly, his voice soft and scared.
"Of course not. Why would I?"
Quatre shook his head and lay down. Heero turned to Wufei. "You too."
Wufei nodded and lay down next to Quatre. Heero sighed softly and lowered himself to the dingy blankets, Quatre between him and Wufei. The boy was shivering and looking very much like he was going to keep crying for a long time. Heero reached down to pull a blanket over his tiny body. Quatre sat halfway up in surprise to look at him. Heero pushed him down again, a little rougher than he meant to. "Go. To. Sleep."
Quatre nodded weakly and closed his eyes. Heero lay still until he knew Quatre was finally asleep before he glanced over at Wufei. The boy's ebony eyes were still open.
"Are you all right, Wufei?"
"Yes," Wufei replied, his eyes meeting Heero's. "Are you?"
"Yes."
There was a long silence between them before Wufei slowly added, "That was a nice thing you did."
"What?"
"Teaching Quatre to pray for Duo and Trowa. I think he needed it."
Heero sighed softly. "That's the first time I've prayed in probably six years."
"Well… I appreciated it."
"You did?"
Wufei nodded slowly, careful not to wake the slumbering Quatre. "I… I've tried to find a way to let my family go. But it's so hard, no matter how strong you are. I know I said I buried them, but it's easier said than done."
Heero nodded slowly. "I understand." He gave Wufei the barest hint of a smile. "Glad I could help."
Wufei nodded before shifting a bit. "I suppose we should sleep. We're going to need our strength to work tomorrow."
Heero nodded and pulled his blanket up to his chin. "'Night," he mumbled.
"Good night," Wufei replied back before his scarab eyes closed to let sleep overtake him. A few minutes later, Heero joined him.
It was a little easier to sleep with Treize the second time. The third time, he didn't force his mind away from it, and the fourth time he found himself beginning to enjoy himself in Treize's warm, strong embrace. The fifth time, less than two weeks after they had first begun this partnership, Treize brought Quatre to his very first orgasm.
"I was thinking," Treize commented that afternoon as he held a slightly trembling Quatre close to his naked chest. "I would like you to quit your job in the kitchens and stay here with me during the day. I know you wouldn't want to leave your friends at night, but you don't see them during the day anyway."
"I was meaning to ask you about that," Quatre replied quickly, glad he had a reason to avoid answering Treize's question. "My friends are in the digging kommando. Couldn't they be transferred to somewhere else?"
Treize shook his head. "Not without a lot of questions."
"But it's hard work."
"The extra food they get from you is not enough?"
"It helps. It does," Quatre tried to reassure him. If Treize thought he was ungrateful, he might stop providing him with things. "But I want to keep them as safe as possible."
"There is not much to be done. They are young and strong. They would only be moved to the Sonderkommando, and they are rotated every few months."
TheSonderkommando were the men who gathered bodies from the gas chambers and threw them into the large ovens to be burned. They were treated well, but that was because 'rotated' was another word for exterminated. "No," Quatre said quickly.
"Then they shall have to stay where they are for now. Perhaps in time I can do something about it." Treize gave him a perfectly measured smile. "If you stay with me, I might be more persuaded to work on finding them a place."
Quatre swallowed hard. They were back to the original question. If he gave in, Treize would have a lot of power over him. But, if he didn't, Treize would have even more. "I… I'll think about it."
Treize nodded. "Very well."
If the other inmates found out about him going to Treize's bedroom every day, he would be beaten or killed for siding with the enemy for special treatment. But it would mean no more kitchen duties, no more cruel insults from other people, more gifts for Heero and Wufei… Treize's room was warm. There was a stove and running water and a shower with as much hot water as he wanted. Treize would give him all kinds of delicious food and warm clothes. It would be almost like the luxuries he had once had at home, all in exchange for a few hours more spent in Treize's fine quarters. Quatre had to admit to himself that the thought was very appealing.
Two days later, Quatre sat playing solitaire on Treize's bed as he waited for the colonel to return from a meeting. He had been giving a lot of thought to Treize's request, enough thought that Wufei had become concerned about his silence. He had laughed it off and explained that he was tired, but it still stuck uncomfortably in his mind, like a splinter under his skin.
Treize entered the room with his hands tucked secretively behind his back. Quatre looked up quizzically from the cards in his hand.
"I have a present for you," Treize said, kicking the door shut behind him with one ebony-booted foot.
"Do you?"
"Yes. Come here."
Quatre set down the cards and unwound his slender legs from their crossed position, sliding off the bed. He moved over to Treize, who nodded towards the mirror on the wall. "Face that and close your eyes."
Quatre turned towards the mirror and closed his eyes, not quite sure what to expect. He heard something swish, and then felt the soft breeze of something going around his body. Something light and warm… "Open," Treize's voice came in his ear.
Quatre's eyes slowly opened to check his reflection in the mirror, and his breath caught in his throat, a gasp coming out through his open lips. His eyes were wide as he stared.
It was a robe, but not merely a robe. The shimmery silk sent rays of light everywhere. It was the color of the purest ocean, the same color as his eyes. The collar up by his throat flipped out and was lined with pure white fur that tickled his chin lightly. It went almost down to the floor, the sleeves hanging long. His hands went up to touch the fluffy collar.
"India silk," Treize said softly, running his hands over the sides gently. "And it's lined with rabbit fur."
"It… it's incredible…"
"I saw it, and I knew it was for you… The blue brings out your eyes so well."
"Yes, it… it does…" His hair seemed to shine like a halo on his head, set off by the cerulean blue. He ran his hands over the fur again, finally able to breathe again.
"I thought, with winter coming in a few months, you could wear this when you get out of bed."
"Yes…" Quatre reached down, his eyes still on his image in the mirror, tying the robe around his slender figure. "It's so… so beautiful…"
"Good. Only the best for my lover." Treize kissed his head once, then straightened up. "Go back to your game."
Quatre started at the sudden word. Treize had never used the word 'lover' to describe him. It felt odd to hear such an affectionate word come from the man he had once looked upon with fear and disgust. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, though, which was a startling thought.
He slowly moved back to the bed, hugging the robe to himself, sitting down again and rubbing his cheek on the soft collar fur. Treize watched him with a small smile. "I'm glad you like it. I have to finish this report. I'll be back soon."
Quatre nodded again, rubbing his hands over the sleeves almost reverently. Treize left, closing the door behind him. Quatre glanced up at the door, then back down at the robe, running his hands over it. It was so shiny and warm… The white rabbit fur against his cheek felt so soft…
It was a bribe. He knew it was. A bribe to get him to come back more often, to make him stay. But it was a nice bribe, he had to admit. The robe was incredible. So soft and warm, and it shimmered with opalesque light from the glow of the rosy lamp nearby.
He had no way of knowing that the robe had come from the suitcase of a young, Jewish girl, or that the girl had been gassed the day before, right after getting off the train. If he had known, he might not have taken it. He couldn't really say for sure.
The late August heat was so thick that the entire camp seemed lazy and sluggish. It was too hot to stay in the barracks in the late afternoon and early evening before the sun went down, so the prisoners were allowed to roam the area between the barracks and the central square where they had roll call. Quatre, Wufei, and Heero enjoyed spending the evenings sitting on piles of wood near the fences and staring up into the blue sky overhead, watching birds loop around and call to each other. The thousands of other prisoners all seemed to be enjoying the privilege of being outside as well. There had been very few fights and almost no instances of stealing or causing trouble. The camp seemed to be swarming, but it was easy to pretend they were alone.
"You know what I really miss?" Quatre asked one evening as they sat on the woodpile, Wufei drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick while Heero stared moodily at nothing.
"What?" Wufei asked, glancing up at him.
"Grass." Not a single blade existed within the confines of Auschwitz. Everywhere there was only dirt and stone.
"Of everything you could have said, you pick 'grass'?" Wufei asked with a chuckle, adding another curve to the bird he was casually drawing.
"You don't miss grass?" Quatre asked, leaning back on his hands.
"Of course I do, but I'm not about to pine for it."
"I'm not pining," Quatre replied, picking up a pebble and tossing it over his shoulder. It hit the sign on the fence with a soft 'clank', and he turned around to look. Of course, the sign didn't make much difference. 'Warning', it read. 'High voltage.' Beneath it was a skull and crossbones, the universal symbol of death, apparently. Quatre had always found that ironic. The entire camp was one big death trap, and the Nazis were taunting them with freedom beyond electrified barbed wire. He turned away again.
"Hey, Wufei. I was wondering. What do you think the future holds for us?"
"Quatre. It's too hot for philosophical conjecture," Wufei replied, glancing up at Quatre pointedly.
"Oh. I'm sorry," Quatre replied, scuffing his toe into the dirt. A burst of raucous laughter nearby made him look up. Three uniformed guards all stood nearby, chatting amongst themselves, their guns hanging limp on their shoulders. Quatre felt Heero stiffen a bit beside him. He could guess what was going through the Jewish teen's head right now. If he could get his hands on one of those guns, they'd be able to get free. Of course, that would never happen. He struggled to think of another topic of conversation. "Well, what could we talk about that would not be philosophical?"
"How's kitchen work been going?" Wufei asked.
"Well," Quatre replied with a smile. "It's been a little warmer than usual inside, but it's been quite pleasant otherwise."
"You must be eating pretty well there. You don't look as thin as you did last month."
"Oh? I… I hadn't noticed." Quatre scuffed his foot into the ground again. Of course, there was another reason for that. Treize offered him anything he wanted to eat whenever he visited. Cake and dumplings and even champagne. Of course, he was not allowed to bring that sort of thing back to his friends, but he wouldn't really want to anyway. Bread and cheese he could explain away, but cake would be a dead giveaway of his secret provider.
Another burst of laughter interrupted his thoughts. The guards were jabbing each other playfully. One of them grabbed the cap off his friend's head, holding it up high. Heero's head snapped up, rising quickly. "Come on, let's go."
Wufei glanced up in surprise at him. The guard suddenly tossed the hat up, and it caught on one of the barbs of the fence, several feet above their heads where it flapped limply in the breeze. In an instant, Wufei was on his feet, pulling Quatre up off the woodpile with him.
"Hold it right there!" barked the third guard, pointing to them. The three froze under his severe gaze. Quatre felt his breath catch in his throat. No. Oh please, God, no… His heart felt like it had stopped beating. This was the guards' favorite game, and they were caught right in the middle of it.
The soldier's dark eyes drifted over them, sizing them up, over Heero, over him, and finally lighting on the last member of their little party.
"You there, pretty boy." The man's smile was malicious. "Retrieve that hat."
For one instant, Quatre felt as if the all the oxygen had been sucked from his lungs. He gasped loudly, a scream tearing itself from his lips. "No!"
The guards laughed cruelly. The man who had thrown the hat reached for the pistol at his waist. Wufei watched his hand move before quickly taking a step forward.
"Wufei!" The air returned all in a rush, and Quatre started to reach for his friend to grab him. Behind him, Heero lunged, wrapping one arm around Quatre's arms, pinning them to his sides, wrapping the other hand around his mouth, cutting off any sound. Quatre found himself pulled back against Heero's strong chest. He struggled against the hold, his cerulean eyes focused on the retreating back of his friend. Why wasn't Heero letting him stop him?!
Heero watched Wufei walk away, his own heart thundering so hard he could feel its irregular rhythm along with Quatre's. As soon as the guards had chosen them, there was no way they all would have been able to walk away together. He gritted his teeth. I'm sorry, Wufei. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you. He just held his ground even as Quatre struggled and thrashed in his arms, trying to break his hold. Quatre's breath was frantic against his hand, but Heero didn't dare release even his mouth. Hearing Quatre screaming would not save Wufei. It would only make it worse.
Wufei approached the innocent-looking fence, not once turning around. He wouldn't look at them. He couldn't. He couldn't look back and see Quatre in Heero's arms, see the tears that he knew Quatre would be shedding, see the cruel smiles of the men who had just sent him towards his death. He might have refused; but the guns in the soldiers' hands could kill more than just him. There was only one choice in the matter.
His eyes were focused on the cap at the top of the fence post. His walk was steady, firm, no hint of hesitation at all. He had prepared himself for death since he had arrived here six months ago. Now it was here. He could hear laughter somewhere nearby; it sounded as if it were underwater. His own heart was rushing in his ears. Death would be swift, and soon he would be with Meilan and his family again. With that thought, he reached out, his hand steady and strong, his eyes lifted up to the blue, cloudless sky high above him, and grasped the fence wire tightly with both hands.
Heero watched in horror as Wufei's body jerked and spasmed against the wire, feeling Quatre stiffen in his arms. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't even force himself to. He was watching his best friend in the entire world die, and he didn't know what to do. He felt completely helpless inside.
After only a few moments, Wufei's body went limp against the fence, slumping to the ground, his hands still clenched around the barbed wire. Heero felt sick. Sometimes prisoners committed suicide by throwing themselves against the electric fence, but that had never even been considered an option by any of them. Why hadn't they been watching? The next moment, Heero felt Quatre go limp in his arms as the blond suddenly passed out. The guards were laughing again. There was nothing to be done. Wufei was gone. Heero scooped Quatre up in his arms, and, as fast as he could, dashed back to Barrack 19.
Quatre didn't know how he got back to his bunk, but he woke up with a gasp in the middle of the night. Heero was next to him, staring back at him calmly in the darkness, only the glint in his eyes visible. Quatre's eyes darted around, his heart beating frantically. Wufei had to be here. He had to be. But the spot he normally slept in was empty. Quatre looked around again. Wufei was just in the privy, or over by the blokowy's door to see if he was asleep. But Wufei did not appear. He turned to Heero in desperation.
Heero slowly shook his head once before sitting up a bit. The next moment, Quatre was in his arms, sobbing against his chest. He was still a moment before gently wrapping his arms around the delicate blond, his own arms strong and warm. He was being strong for Quatre, but Wufei's death was affecting him more profoundly than Duo or Trowa. Of all the boys, he had been the closest to Wufei, ever since the moment Wufei had saved him their first night in the camp. Wufei had been calm and levelheaded, but not passive like Trowa, and he did not show his emotions the way Duo had. Nor had he tried to force bonds between anyone. He let things happen as they would and rolled with the punches. When it had just become the three of them, Wufei had shed his tears in private and had kept calm in front of Quatre. Wufei had become the glue that held them together. But he had died so pointlessly. Duo had been playing Russian Roulette with his stealing, and Trowa had been beyond help, but Wufei was young and strong. He had been sure Wufei would survive and go back to his life beyond the fence. He had the strength and will to carry on despite the hell they were living in. Yet he had faced death so calmly, so willingly. What had been in his mind as he approached that fence, knowing that he would die? Heeero wished he knew. It was all so stupid. What a senseless waste.
Quatre seemed to have calmed after several long minutes. Heero glanced down into those teary eyes, steeling himself for some whimper or apology, but he was not prepared for what he heard next.
"Heero, if you want to leave me, you can. I know you'd rather not have to look after me."
"Don't be stupid," Heero replied firmly. "I said I would take care of you, and I meant it." It was the least he could do, after all.
Quatre stared at him in surprise. He had figured Heero would jump at the chance to unload him and be on his own. He had always expressed that he could survive better by himself. "Heero, are you sure?"
"Yes," Heero replied firmly. "We're in this together."
Quatre stared a moment before smiling softly. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Heero replied firmly.
Quatre hesitated before gently hugging him. It didn't matter if Heero was perhaps only using him or didn't really care about him. He at least had one person who would not leave him, no matter what happened. That made him feel better despite the void occupying by the empty space beside them.
Heero supposed he would have to thank Quatre at some point. When he and Wufei had worked together out in the fields digging trenches in the hard, dry earth, they had discussed Quatre's strange behavior over the last few weeks. Wufei's only conclusion had been that Quatre had a secret lover that he didn't want to tell them about. Some inmates, especially in the women's half of the camp, they knew, would sell themselves to the soldiers for special favors, and that seemed to be the only logical explanation for the items Quatre would bring back for them. They were too nice and too large to be sneaked out of the sorting block. Heero was not about to ask questions when he knew he would get no answers. Frankly, he didn't care. Quatre often brought back tins of cigarettes from this secret person, and Heero stockpiled his half. The things he needed were not cheap, and it was risky to collect things without a reliable contact. However, he managed to trade all of his cigarettes for the components he needed, and, in the evenings when all was quiet, he would slip away to the trash pile in the center of the camp.
There he would work on assembling his crude but effective bomb. Screws, nails, bolts, and glass made up the shrapnel, the casing an old coffee tin, all of which he had been able to find on his own. Just a few simple chemicals from in the suitcases of the exterminated Jews, a few wires from the trash or nicked from other electrical devices, and he was in business. Heero wondered if his grandfather was still alive. The old man had always been interested in science, and their long nights working side by side on every sort of device was paying off. He had never thanked him for it, but, if he ever saw him again, he would have to.
The evening he planned to set it off, towards the end of September, Heero sat silently with Quatre who was chattering mindlessly away about the trip his family had once taken to Italy, wondering if this was the last time he would see the boy again. He was sure he wouldn't be able to take out the entire command headquarters, but, if he could just create enough chaos, the prisoners would be able to revolt and get away. Whether or not he himself would walk away from the explosion was another matter altogether. If he died, so be it; it was all for the greater good. If he succeeded in wiping out Treize Khushrenada, the ensuing pandemonium would tear the camp apart at the seams.
Heero excused himself to the privy, and, once Quatre had lain down and was not paying attention, slipped out the door. The sun was just beginning to set. The officers would be in their quarters, eating dinner and playing cards. It was the perfect time. He dug his bomb out of the pile of rags he had hidden it in. The one match he had been able to procure from his source was tucked in the cuff of his pants. He slipped the bomb under his shirt and ducked into the shadows that stretched long over the ground, heading towards the offices by the gates.
Getting past the crematoriums was difficult. They were heavily guarded to protect from sabotage. The chimneys belched clouds of black smoke that stank with hellish rot. Heero felt it seep into his pores as he crossed underneath it. The burning smell of human flesh permeated his skin, filling his eyes, nose, mouth, and lungs with its choking blackness. If he washed for a thousand years, he was sure he could never remove the smell from his skin.
He slowed down as he passed the watchtowers, but the guards there seemed to be lazy and bored, waiting for their relief so they could go have a drink and some dinner. Finally, Heero reached the command offices, his skin sticky with sweat from the heat and the radiating hellfire of the chimneys.
A quick glance around, and he pulled the bomb from under his clothes, placing it directly beneath the window of Treize's office that looked out over the camp. He would have to work quickly now. He reached for the match inside his cuff.
The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of Heero's neck. He froze. "Stand up. Keep your hands where I can see them."
Heero swallowed hard and carefully lifted his hands up, pushing himself up from the ground. "Turn around." He carefully turned. The barrel of the gun pressed between his eyes. He focused on the man who held it instead.
His gaze met the long blond hair and bright, ice blue eyes of a familiar soldier. Lieutenant Merquise. "You always seem to be the one causing trouble, Heero Yuy," the man said.
Heero glowered a bit. "Aren't you going to shoot me?"
Zechs lowered the gun from Heero's face, though his arm stayed tense, ready to shoot if Heero ran. "I should."
"Then do it," Heero replied, straightening his shoulders defiantly as he lowered his arms. "Or I'll blow this whole place to hell."
"You have guts, boy. I'll give you that. I saved you that day you arrived because I liked the look in your eyes. You weren't going to give up like the others," Zechs said with a small, sardonic smile. "I see I was right."
"What is your point?" Heero knew he was mouthing off to a Nazi officer, but truthfully he didn't care.
"My point is, don't do anything stupid that makes me have to kill you," Zechs told him firmly. "I want you to live."
"Why should one life matter so much to you?" Heero demanded.
"Just because I work for the people that commit these atrocities doesn't mean I support them," the lieutenant responded. "Not all Nazis are bad, Heero Yuy."
"You all deserve to die."
"I could easily say the same thing about Jews. But I don't."
Heero glowered angrily. "Are you finished?"
"If you are. Step away from your device."
"No."
"Don't make me shoot you." Zechs' voice dropped lower. "You'll get another chance one day if you don't die now."
"But you will not let me do what needs to be done," Heero snarled softly.
"No, I will not."
Heero hesitated, then slowly took a step to the side, away from his crude, makeshift bomb. Lieutenant Merquise was right. He had been caught now, and he could have been killed, but this man had chosen to not pull the trigger.
The blond soldier gave him a hint of a grateful smile. "Thank you."
Heero just glared in return. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Thank you for not shooting me'? "You're a coward."
Zechs' face didn't change. "Perhaps I am. But I'd rather be a coward than a murderer."
Heero understood, but that didn't make it any easier for him to walk away. All that wasted time. All that wasted energy. All that wasted saving. It was all for nothing. That was what hurt the most.
Zechs picked up the device, studying it. The boy had some skills, that much was certain, though his plan certainly was much more fanciful than realistic. He was one to keep an eye on. But not too closely, Zechs thought with amusement. Hopefully one day soon something would happen, and Auschwitz really would see the end of its reign of terror.
Unbeknownst to him or to the boy retreating into the shadows, Colonel Treize Khushrenada was watching them both from the window.