Chapter 8
Clue for Jehova's Oracle

Heero awoke with a groan, hands grasping at his face as the harsh morning light slanted through the curtains to hit across his eyes. Wincing against the pounding in his temples, he idly wondered if this was what Wufei felt when he woke up sick and aching after a restless sleep of nightmares and confusing dreams. Taking in a slow breath, he moved to sit up straight, nearly whimpering at the intensity of his migraine. Over a week had passed since Wufei had been institutionalized, and every night, Heero found himself tossing and turning from the odd images that filled his head and left him in a cold sweat, tangled in the bed sheets. Dreams of being left immobile, hearing the soft whimpering that grew quieter and weaker each night, until all that could be heard was the desperate hiccupping and ragged breaths that echoed through out the bleak, black landscape. Every now and then, an odd form would join him. Someone who's name started with a Z? But he never recalled much more than that.

Slowly standing, he exhaled with a slow and steady breath, trying to gather his bearings. He attempted to step forward, only to feel the floor tilting and slipping, and he grasped desperately onto the bedpost to stop from falling. Exhaustion tore through him, and he stumbled back onto the bed, grapping his temples as his skull thumped against the pillow. Like bolts of lightening, agony threaded through his skull and blurred out his vision.

"K'so!" he hissed, rolling onto his back. If this got any worse, he doubted he would even be able to function anymore! He needed to speak with Sally and get something for his head….

Not trusting himself to move, he forced his body to relax as the world began to right itself. Shifting a little, he tried to take some of the weight off his neck and keep his breath from hitching at the little explosions of pain that erupted whenever he twitched. This was like nothing he had encountered during his time as the perfect soldier or even after. He even dared to say he preferred the pain of self destructing over this. Idly, his mind trailed back to the many times when Wufei would curl up in a fetal position on the bed, hands pressing down over his ears as he repeated like a mantra, "My ears are going to bleed…k'so, it hurts! It hurts!" Was this what Wufei had been talking about?

It did feel as if his ears would bleed. His vision was hazy around the edges, and his ears were ringing at a shrill intensity. But why would he now feel this pain when Wufei was gone? Was his sympathetic mind dropping him into the same insanity of Wufei, in hopes to someday join him? Closing his eyes, he tried to banish the thought and the fear of being locked up with his lover, never to see the light of day. Instead, he needed to focus on something else, something real. Grabbing at the photograph beside the bed, he held it up in front of himself and studied the faces there. He, Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre, stood together, all looking amused, studying a blank space. Before, he had always found it weird. His memories of that night were hazy, but according to some of the media coverage, each had been drinking superfluously, and had been in great spirits. Odd warmth flooded his stomach, as if his subconscious recalled something comforting and happy from the picture that his mind's eye didn't grasp.

Running his thumb over it, he found his gaze settling on the blank spot, studying it closely. Instincts seemed to nudge him forward, filling him with an odd type of curiosity. Tilting his head to the side gently, so as to not cause the migraine to act up anymore, he began to survey the picture with an amused scrutiny like a child playing "What's wrong with this picture?" At first, he couldn't exactly grasp the hints that were being presented. All he saw were the four of them, and in the background, Dorothy and Relena looking shocked towards them. Hilde was approaching from the corner, holding a tray with six glasses of wine. She had left for a moment to get them all one, and had missed out on some horrible joke that was rather offensive. There was a glass for her, a glass for Heero, one for Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre, and a final for…for…

...someone was missing.

White hot sparks blurred his vision, the picture dropping from his hand as he cried out his agony, grabbing onto his face and pressing down hard. It felt as if his skull was going to shatter into a million pieces. Hissing his pain, the ringing in his ears intensified, and he felt as if his ear drums would burst at any moment. Rolling onto his side, he curled up, shielding himself from all light and noise as tears trailed a searing path down his cheeks. What was wrong with him? What was going on?

Hiding his eyes in his pillow, he sought out the darkness it should have offered, but instead of being greeted by the blackness that normally rested in his mind, he saw a set of violet eyes. And above the ringing in his ears, a familiar voice whispered sweetly in his ear, asking a question he couldn't answer.

Hey, Heero? Where do memories go when they die?

oOoOo

"Where do memories go when they die?"

A cold chill went down Quatre's spine as he heard the question pierce his hazy, nervous thoughts. Something about it seemed so timely, so frightening, that it made his insides shake.

"Uncle Quatre?" the voice called again. The blond Arabian slowly lifted eyes to stare into Kasha's. His nine-year-old niece stared up to him as her fingers played across the picture frame she held in her hand. It was of Quatre, Kasha's mom, and their dad, all gathered together like the happy little family they had been before the war.

"What do you mean?" he wondered, slowly closing the laptop he had been using. Brown eyes turned to watch the racing game that Anil, Kasha's younger brother, and Trowa, were playing on the large screen TV.

"Well, like when you forget stuff and you can't remember, no matter how hard you try…or you just forget that you knew it all together. Where do those memories go? Do they die?" she wondered innocently. Quatre leaned back at the weight of the question that seemed to parallel his own, tormented thoughts, biting nervously on the inside of his cheeks.

"I don't think we ever really forget anything," he answered slowly, looking over to the sweet child who watched him with a hope-filled, chocolate gaze. "I think the memories are always with us…just very distant. Tucked into the back of our minds, waiting for something to trigger them." He felt weird saying all of this, as trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince the girl. Not that he didn't believe what he was saying. It was impossible for memories to die. Right? Which was why if Wufei was right, and he had known the person who was supposed to be the 02 pilot, some horrible event might have happened that caused him to repress it. Looking down to his laptop, he ran his fingers over the closed case, mind swimming with all the information he had received. For the past week, he had done nothing but research the Gundam Deathscythe, finding all the information he could on it and the pilot who should have been.

According to all the documentation, the planned pilot of 02 had been shot down before it had even been completed. On the same day the pilot had arrived, it was said that two Alliance battalions, having recently received news of a possible rebellion from Oz, had gotten word of the suit. Thinking it was an Oz run operation, they had bombed it, destroying it a mere week before operation Meteor had begun. Everyone but the scientist had died, but there was one thing that didn't sit right.

No one had any record or information on who the pilot should have been. And if G had survived…was it possible the pilot had as well? And if so, where was he? Who was he? And why was Wufei going insane over all of this? What had that pilot done to him?

"Uncle Quatre?" Quatre was snapped from his thoughts as his attention returned to Kasha. The small girl held a hand to his face, her brown eyes worried. "Are you okay?" she wondered sweetly, voice small and laced with worry. Quatre nodded, giving a reassuring smile he didn't feel.

"I'm fine," he promised, putting the laptop down on the table. "I'm going to get something to drink." Excusing himself, the Arabian quickly exited the room and the overwhelming noise of video games and haunting questions. The kitchen while more quiet, still echoed distantly with the computerized backfire from the video game, causing his skin to crawl and his body to shudder. He needed silence to clear his thoughts. He would be of no help to anyone in this condition. Going to the large double doors that led outback, he forced them open and gladly pushed his way out into the warmth of the afternoon sun. Dark clouds speckled the sky, dancing their ominous way across the otherwise perfect blue, promising a storm that he felt certain would come. Everything felt so ethereal, he realized, taking a deep breath of the clean, damp air, letting it cleanse his mind. Something about Wufei's most recent snap left him feeling dirty, as if he were betraying his one and only best friend. He knew Wufei believed in it. That had to be the reason why he felt this way. The fact that this insane belief in the nonexistent pilot meant so much to Wufei must be making him want it to be real…for Wufei's sake.

But he knew he was lying to himself. Deep down, something in him too believed in what Wufei said. Because something recalled a laughing voice. A chestnut braid. A warm smile. And something in him plagued his dreams with visions of those eyes…burning and purple, passionate and heated, long before Wufei had ever had even mentioned it.

Why he never said anything, he didn't know. Fear was a constant companion, doggedly trailing in the wake of confusion these odd memories brought. Not fear of being called crazy. But another fear. A fear that perhaps, whatever had gotten to the pilot of Deathscythe would get to him, and soon Trowa would be considered insane for having such vivid memories of the nonexistent "fourth" pilot.

"You're starting to sound like a nut job," he grumbled, chastising himself. As if chastising himself out loud really made him that much saner… He knew he needed to think rationally, but his head was in chaos and had, apparently, forgotten how to function or act like a normal human being. So he relinquished control to his heart, letting it guide him down the small, cobblestone walkway, into the overgrown forest-like garden.

He meandered with a seemingly aimless grace through the weeping willow trees and hundreds of flowers he could never hope to know. Letting his mind go blank, he enjoyed the quiet state of searching emotion, free from the wretched calamity that had become his day to day consciousness. Thoughts still flittered through his mind, but he pulled himself further into what he had dubbed his space heart, letting it guide him to the best place to find a bit of peace of solace as it led him on with a clear purpose. It was a loss of control that he was in control of, and it made him happy to know that one side of him still operated completely rationally (if emotions are ever rational), and he was surprised when it pulled him to a stop in front of a beautiful, well tended marble bench. He went to sit down, but something stopped him. His heart told him to look. Started screaming for him not to give up until something had been found.

Clear reluctance guided his step as he slowly navigated his way through the bushes, seeking out what his feelings knew was there. He picked his way carefully through the plants, stepping over one of the small streams installed to provide steady irrigation to the thick foliage. What exactly he was looking for, he didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't give up until he found it.

"Quatre?" the call was distant, coming from the patio, but the Arabian barely noticed it. Trowa stood at the open doors, nervously looking out into the garden, trying to pick him out through the hanging branches of the willows. Concern washed through the tall acrobat. He had overheard the conversation earlier, and against his better judgment, he had stayed out of it. He knew his lover could handle himself no matter what, but that didn't sate his worry. Quatre's stress had been obvious as of late, since Wufei had gone into the hospital the week before. And since then, Quatre himself had become increasingly obsessed with the idea of there being a fifth pilot. Trowa bit his lower lip, stepping out into the garden and following the same pathway his lover had gone down earlier. While he loved and trusted Quatre more than life itself, he was worried beyond reason. There was no way he could stand to lose his husband to the same disease that Wufei suffered.

"Quatre?" he called again, clearing past the parameter of trees and into the spot where the bushes only stood waist high. He glanced towards a marble bench, noticing the fresh footprint in the soil. "Quatre, answer me," he pleaded, following the path of bent leafs and disrupted Earth. Pushing past the final boundary, coming to stop before the stream, he began to speak but was cut off by an agonized whine.

That's when he saw him, crouching down, tears slowly streaking trails down his cheeks. He looked like he was in shock, clutching a tarnished necklace tight to his chest as if it were his only grip on life. Trowa opened his mouth to say something, but Quatre just looked up to him, his expression tearing through him and quickly silencing him. Slowly opening his hands, Quatre lifted the object to his lover.

Breath catching, Trowa felt a familiar dizziness overwhelm him, body feeling light. It was the same sensation as when he had amnesia, and had seen Quatre for the first time. The blond stared at him, horrified and bewildered.

"He existed," he breathed, voice barely audible. But Trowa didn't hear. His eyes were glued to the trademark gold cross that had never left their friends neck in all the years he had fought beside him. Fighting off the wave of nausea that threatened to make him lose his breakfast, Trowa collapsed onto his knees, paying no heed to the cold water that he landed in.

"Quatre," he gasped, "what the hell is going on?"

Sorry this took so long you guys. You would think spring break would be a time to update (HAHA! NOT!) but as it turns out, I've been completely overwhelmed with studying (that I put off till tomorrow), work (which I totally slacked off in), and the occasional fun time (occasionalevery day on spring break) so I really hope you can forgive me! lol!