CHAPTER 3

Quatre couldn't sleep. Hell none of them could but Duo, whom Trowa had at last more or less shoved 3 sleeping pills into. He could feel them tossing and turning, just like him, through the walls. He worried for Wufei, but at the same time he didn't. If that girl was going to try anything there was no one better than Wufei to take care of her in that infuriating women shouldn't be fighting way he does. Quatre had to smirk a little at that. Shoving a hand back through his blonde hair he flopped onto his back. Then onto his side. Then onto his other side. This really was pointless. He was angry, no doubt but... that wasn't what was keeping him awake. The image of Heero, downstairs, on the couch, alone kept flooding his mind. Honest Quatre wouldn't be surprised if Trowa or Wufei snuck down there and killed him in the night. It was true, none of them should trust him now. Ah, but what was he saying. Did they truly expect anything less from their oh-so-compassionate trainers?

A creak and a groan told him someone was coming up the stairs. Well since there was only one person downstairs, that meant it was Heero. Quatre tensed. Held his breath. Squeezed his eyes shut. But the door creaked open anyway, and the blonde knew he could not deny Heero Huey a warm bed. He could sense the hesitance in the other. The uncertainty. That more than anything, more than the appearance of Trinity, more the than the revelation of the truth, hurt so deeply. He was their rock. He was their strength. And he was so broken. Could any of the rest of them feel it?

"Quatre?" God he hated hearing that deep voice so soft. "The fire went out downstairs. It's... it got cold," had he ever heard the other boy falter before?

"Turn on the electric heater," he tried to keep the feeling out of his voice, and hoped more than anything that he failed. "Come to bed."

Quatre heard the relieved sigh that Heero released in a rush. A moment later, the electric heater clicked on with a soft hum as it heated up, gradually dousing the room in an eerie orange glow. The bed dipped at Quatre's back as the taller pilot slid beneath the covers, careful not to touch his partner. But it was that he was there. It was that he could hear him breathing beside him, feel the physical strength that exuded from him. Quatre needed that. Needed to know that that, at least, was still sure and real. He wanted to curl up to it - into it. But he didn't. He never had, never would. At last sleep came. Because he was safe. Heero was there. However broken, however changed. Heero was there.

Hot. It was hot. His mouth was dry. His head hurt. Slowly, wincing against the strange light, he opened his eyes. Fire. Fire all around him. He sat up and his head spun sickly. Crackling, growling fire. The smoke stung his eyes, assaulted his lungs. When he pressed his hand to his brow, he felt the blood. Duo was there, near him. He was so pale. His stomach was bleeding deep, black blood from several deep gashes. And Trowa. So tall, so slim. His face as impassive as ever. He turned away mildly at a sudden explosion. The whole of his back was gaping open in an awful slash that followed his spine. But Wufei... Where was Wufei? And Heero? A terrible roar crashed down around them. The great, elegant Shenlong Gundam fell in a blaze of black fire. And suddenly there was Wufei, standing with them. His clothes hung around him in black, singed rags. Some burns marred his arms and back and stomach. The Chinese boy held out his hand to Quatre. It was icy once he grasped it. Slowly the blonde rose. Eyes wide. Legs trembling. HeavyArms lay dead in the distance. Deathscythe, nearer, twisted in an impossible way. Dear God, what hell was this...

Then, as if bid by some unknown premonition, all eyes looked up. Wing Zerio towered above them. Dark. Terrible. And there was Heero standing in the open cock pit, detonation control in hand. Quatre screamed, but no sound came out. The fire swallowed his cries. He made to run, but was held back by his fellow pilots. Their eyes were lost and dead, their bloody grips cold and steely. He fought, screamed, cried. But to no avail. Slowly, everything was fading away. He must be dying. The fire, the heat. But their hands stayed, holding him down.

"Quatre!" a low voice hissed, barely audible. "Quatre! Wake up, Quatre!"

At last, wide aquamarine eyes shot open. Heero. Heero before him. Heero's hands keeping him still. He was in his room. No fiery battlefield just that warm orange glow from the heater. At last, the Arabian sucked in a seering breath that came out on a sob. He could feel the tears running into his hair, cold against his hot skin. He made to wipe his face but Heero caught his hand and tugged him up. Quatre's head swam and he fell against the other boy's chest. Strong, lean arms closed around his own slight shoulders. And suddenly he couldn't hold back the sobs.

"Why didn't you tell us?" his arms went around Heero's chest, clung there. "We would've... would've followed you... into any battle - any death... You're all we... have, Heero. We're all... all we have. Just... the five of us."

Silence came from the lips so near his temple, but a hand came to rest on his head, and long fingers gently twined in his fine blonde hair. If only they could just stay like that. If only time would just stop. Heero's arm around his shoulders tightened. Those lips brushed his temple, light enough to be an accident.

"I won't leave you, Quatre," came that soft, growling voice. Stronger now than before. "I know... I know what to do now."

"What?" there was a tinge of bitter sarcasm in the single word reply.

Heero leaned back, caught Qautre's chin in agile fingers. Lifted his face until their eyes met.

"I will kill anyone that comes between the five of us," he said it so unblinkingly, so unflinchingly. Just like Heero. Just like that... that god-like surety he possessed that steeled the rest of them. "We're on our own now. Just us. No more orders. No more games. We will fight for peace our own way."