Discalaimer: I do not own the GW characters or universe. I just play around in it…

Note: Many thanks to KS for editing - ad infinitum - and to everyone who has reviewed.

Saving Puppies:

'You don't mind moving back to Earth? Just when we're starting to settle in properly on L4?'

'Of course I don't mind.' Trowa shrugged. 'You're the one who really needs to think about it, though. Have you thought about what will happen with WEI? It's only been nine months since you've taken over.

Quatre nodded. 'There's no real reason why I can't run things from here. All I need is a computer and a 'phone and a couple of assistants. I was thinking we could convert a couple of wards on Duo's floor into a suite of offices.'

'You think the hospital will allow that?'

'There are appeals all over the place for donations to build a new maternity wing. I'm sure the Board will be willing to …negotiate. And it wouldn't hurt WEI to open subsidiaries on Earth, or the other colonies come to that. Now that we're all part of the ESUN, there aren't any more trade restrictions. Why should we be limited to L4 anymore? There's a whole universe out there.'

'My little capitalist,' Trowa grinned up at him. 'I love it when you get all…commercial, Mr. Winner. Your sisters are going to freak out, you know? They want things to stay just as they were when your father was in charge.'

'Too bad. If they didn't want me to take over WEI, they shouldn't have pressured me into coming home.' He slid back down into Trowa's embrace. 'Honestly, half the time I think they just want me to be their cute, biddable baby brother, who does exactly what he's told while they pretend the universe hasn't changed.'

'Well, you are cute,' Trowa teased, 'and very biddable in the right circumstances. With the right person telling you what to do, of course.'

Quatre snorted, burying his face in the curve of Trowa's shoulder. 'Do you think it's a good idea, Tro? Expanding like that?'

'Why not? Earth's economy is just starting to recover from the war. Property prices are still low; it should be an excellent time to buy. A lot of countries are offering incentives to foreign corporations. There's no reason why WEI shouldn't be eligible for those.'

'I'll bring it up at the next board meeting,' Quatre decided. 'It'll probably have to be a video conference, if we're still on Earth. They'll all hate it, won't they?' He laughed. 'All my sisters and their husbands, and the executives my father appointed. They're bound to think that WEI shouldn't move beyond L4, just because that was how Father ran things. Not one of them has any vision, really; they'll be terrified at the prospect that something might go wrong and they'll lose their dividends.'

Trowa chuckled. 'They'd hate it even more if they knew you'd thought of the whole idea while you were naked in bed with me, especially after what we've just been doing.'

Quatre's eyes gleamed. 'Maybe I'll mention it the next time some reporter asks me what inspires my business plans. I'll say I owe it all to a combination of maple syrup and my incredibly gorgeous boyfriend.'

'Really? That's what you think about when I'm going down on you?' Trowa murmured. 'That should sell a few newspapers. 'The idea to open subsidiaries on Earth came just as my wonderfully talented lover was sucking me off.' Can't you imagine the headlines? We'd have to make sure we bought shares beforehand. We could make a fortune.'

'And all my sisters would have coronaries. Tro, I wish we didn't have to hide everything all the time.'

'We don't hide,' Trowa corrected. 'We try to be discreet, to keep your family happy. There's a difference.' He tossed Quatre a wicked little grin. 'And it's not as if we try terribly hard either. After all, we're sharing a double room, and half the neighbourhood probably heard you earlier.'

'Trowa!'

'Yes, Quatre? You do tend to be very loud in bed, you know that. I think we may have to get you a gag.'

'Then I wouldn't be able to do this,' Quatre responded, flicking his tongue deftly around Trowa's nipple, loving the way his lover arched and moaned at the touch. 'Still, we probably should try harder. My sisters wouldn't be too thrilled if I ended up on the cover of in some gossip magazine.'

Trowa shrugged. 'Once WEI pulls in the profits, and you don't embarrass them too much in front of their friends, they won't care what you do. Anyway, it's not forever. Once WEI starts turning a real profit, we can appoint some competent managers and take off to do our own thing.'

'Good. I'll never be able to please them anyway, will I? Neither of us will. And they'd all go into orbit if they knew you had anything to do with WEI.'

Trowa was more or less tolerated as their brothers' 'bodyguard'. There would be an outcry if they found out that Trowa was involved in any WEI affairs. In fact, the two of them made a superb team. Quatre had spent most of his life being trained to run WEI; he had a vision of just how he wanted the company to develop, and Trowa had the experience with tactics and logistics to enable those plans to be carried out.

Trowa kissed him. 'Don't worry about them. It's just for a couple of years, my sweet. Then we can do whatever we want.'

'I'm sorry,' Quatre said, suddenly serious. 'I never meant for things to work out like this. I wanted us to be together, not for you to have to pretend you're just my bodyguard.'

'We are together, Quatre. Always. And I know you, If one of your sisters had been interested or capable of taking over, then things might have been different. None of this is your fault, and you didn't force me into anything. It was a joint decision.'

His father's death, coupled with the ongoing war, had almost bankrupted the once-successful corporation. The first few months after the War hadn't helped either, with Quatre's sisters and their husbands scheming either to take control of WEI or sell it off piecemeal. Either way, they'd just wanted to milk it dry to finance their own luxurious lifestyles.

'My father was never interested in making money for himself. He wanted WEI to succeed, but that was because it provided so much employment, and did so much for the colony. Most of the profits were ploughed back into the business. My sisters don't understand any of that. They just want to know they'll have a certain income every six months.. I suppose it's not their fault, really. Father didn't bring any of them up to be involved with WEI. Just me.'

He sighed. 'You know, I think I understand him better now. He desperately needed someone to hand the business over to, to take care of it and I was all he'd got.'

'I think he'd be very proud of you. You've practically turned around an almost bankrupt company , and you've done so much to help the people on L4.'

Quatre shrugged his slender shoulders. 'He might approve of that part of it. He wouldn't approve of anything else, not least that I won't be fathering any little Winners to inherit. Still, some of my older nieces and nephews are studying Business. If they're interested, it would be nice to have some of them involved. I'd rather like WEI to stay in the family if possible.' He leaned over to press a kiss to Trowa's cheek. 'None of this should be your problem. I thought after the war, we could do whatever we wanted, make a perfect life for ourselves.'

Trowa grinned. 'You're the one who's always saying we should share everything. That means bad things as well as good, right? And you don't have to worry about me. Let's face it, my life was shit 'til I met you. The best thing that had happened to me before that was getting a Gundam, and that was only so I could kill more efficiently. You're the one who showed me love, happiness, everything. And one day we'll get to go off and live our own lives. We just have to wait a little longer , that's all.'

'A house on Earth,' Quatre decided, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing into his lover's stunning green eyes. It was a game they'd played all the way through the war; Quatre seriously, Trowa indulging him. 'Where would you like to live, Tro? If you could choose anywhere? Africa? We could have a nature reserve.'

'India, maybe. There are some wonderful conservation projects for tigers. I'd like to do something like that.'

'What about Sri Lanka? I was reading about it in one of your magazines; it looks beautiful.'

'Why not?' Trowa stretched lazily. 'A bamboo hut by the ocean so we could fall asleep listening to the waves and watch the sunrise from our bed.'

'Oh, yes.' Quatre mentally revised his little fantasy of the two of them walking hand in hand on a beach and enjoying a spectacular sunset by one hundred and eighty degrees. Trowa preferred to watch the sun rise. 'And a pet tiger? You could train it to do all kinds of things, and I could take it for walks.'

Trowa laughed. 'I'm not sure if teaching animals tricks is an integral part of animal rehabilitation. Or turning them into pets.'

'Oh, I never thought of that.' OK, scratch out the adorable tiger cubs gambolling at their feet. Perhaps they could have a dog instead? They could rescue a puppy from life on the streets and give it a wonderful home. 'And I could do a cookery class. Then I could cook you amazing Indian dishes every night.'

'Maybe not that. Actually, please not that. Don't worry. You can compose music for the two of us to play, and write romance novels, and if you do get bored, you'll probably end up running the country.'

Quatre pulled a face. 'I don't actually have to organise everything, you know. It might be quite nice just to sit back and do nothing.'

Trowa leaned over and tapped his forehead. 'OK, who exactly are you and where have you hidden Quatre Winner? Just tell me that in the last ten minutes you haven't been thinking of all the wonderful improvements you could make to the Indian economy, health and education systems and infrastructure.'

'Ha ha.' Quatre tried for sarcasm, something that he could never quite achieve with Trowa, and then gave up. 'I do love you, you know.'

'I know,' Trowa smirked; it was a quote from an old pre-Colony film that he loved.

Quatre just laughed. 'I know you love me. I can feel it.'

'I can prove it, if you like!' One strong hand snaked down Quatre's spine, squeezing his ass. 'Isn't it my turn to go on top again?'

'Well?' Some time later, Trowa looked around from buttoning his shirt, waiting for a reaction.

'You look fantastic.' Quatre, still sprawled on the bed, reached out one hand to pull him down. It was perfectly true. Trowa had discovered a sense of style on L4; at first, the designer clothes had been nothing more than mission camouflage, for his job as Quatre's bodyguard, but it hadn't taken him long to appreciate fine fabrics and tailoring for their own sake.

The suit he was wearing had been an early Christmas gift from Quatre and he looked - mouth-watering in it.

'Down, angel,' the taller man teased, grinning, and Quatre's mouth settled into a pout. He disliked that particular endearment as much as his lover enjoyed it.

'I do wish you wouldn't call me that.'

'My horny, beautiful, insatiable angel,' Trowa amended, the grin broadening as he slid one hand down Quatre's chest. 'Don't you ever get tired?'

'Not of you.' Quatre pulled himself up and wrapped both arms tightly around Trowa. 'Never of you.'

Another profound truth. Especially not when Trowa was in his arms, and the bed's rumpled linen smelled of sex, and his memory kept conjuring images of his lover sprawled under him, the sheer wonder of Tro's body as he'd pressed into him.

He loved being on top, even though it had taken so long for Trowa to persuade him to try it. Not that he hadn't wanted to, which he had, very much; but he knew that deep down Trowa associated that position with pain and fear and humiliation, and he never wanted Tro to feel those things around him.

It hadn't been like that, though. Trowa had given him that trust, and he'd done his best to repay it. To make whole constellations explode in his lover's mind and body and heart.

It was power; he'd told Duo that once, when his friend had asked what sex was like. The knowledge that he had only to lift Trowa's hips slightly, make his thrusts faster and deeper, to plunge his lover into pure pleasure.

After the tensions of the last week, he'd lost control almost as soon as he'd plunged into his lover's body. The second time, he'd been able to make it last. He'd turned Trowa, his Trowa, into a quivering mass of need, quavering desperate pleas for fulfilment punctuated with Quatre's name.

'Do you have any plans to leave that bed?' Trowa drew back slightly and gave him a quizzical little smile.

'In a minute.' Quatre rubbed his cheek against Trowa's. Tro hadn't bothered to shave for a couple of days, and the stubble suited him perfectly. Like a rock star, or the hero of a romance novel. 'I love the feel of you when you're all prickly.'

'You don't want me to grow a beard, do you?'

Quatre shook his head. 'A little goatee would be sexy, maybe. One day. Tro, I'm sorry I was such a brat earlier.'

'You don't have to be sorry,' Trowa soothed. 'I know you're all strung up about Duo, and you're always cranky when you haven't eaten for a while.' He pressed his lips to the little line between the blond brows. 'It's OK, kit. I happen to like overly emotional, high maintenance blonds.'

'Really, Mr. Barton?' Quatre seized a handful of dark, gleaming hair, still slightly damp from the shower, and tugged. Hard. 'How many of them do you happen to know?'

'Only one so far. But he's more than enough.'

'Right answer.' Oh, Allah, there was nothing in the universe more beautiful than Trowa's smile. The little amber flecks in his eyes lit up, and danced like fireflies. 'I suppose we should be going,' he said reluctantly, nonetheless settling back into Trowa's arms. 'I called the hospital while you were in the shower. There's no change in Duo's condition and Sally and Hilde are with him.'

'We'll go in a minute,' Trowa agreed. 'Quatre, can I ask you to do something for me?' He looked very serious all of a sudden.

'Anything,' Quatre said at once, smiling sunnily up at his lover. Trowa almost never asked him for things. 'Whatever you want.'

'Don't freak out, OK?' Two strong, warm hands cupped Quatre's face gently. 'I think Heero deserves to attend the meeting this afternoon. It's about Duo and he should be involved.'

'Definitely not,' Quatre responded coolly, the lovely, intimate mood shattering into jagged, gleaming shards. 'This is all his fault. He has no right to be consulted on any aspect of Duo's life, and I'm never letting him go near Duo again if I can help it.'

'You can't. Heero is officially listed as Duo's next of kin, you know that. He is entitled to visit Duo whenever he wishes. '

'He is not!' Quatre snapped. 'Duo is in Intensive Care, in a coma, because of Heero. I think he forfeited any … entitlements when he decided they were no longer a couple.'

Trowa sighed, putting both arms around his partner. 'I know you're hurting, angel. I can't imagine how bad this is for you, but Heero's one of our closest friends. Can't you even try to imagine how he must be feeling right now?'

'I don't care!' Quatre yelled, jerking free. 'Why can't you understand, Trowa? I don't care about Heero, not after what he did to Duo. He should have been the one to suffer, not Duo. I thought he cared, I thought he could look after Duo and he didn't.'

'He's not perfect,' Trowa said quietly. 'I know how you feel about Heero, but everyone makes mistakes. You, me, all of us. Heero is absolutely devastated over what happened.'

'Good! He deserves to be.'

Trowa shook his head. 'Don't say things like that, Quatre. You've always been the kindest, most compassionate person I've ever known. I know you were upset that day at the hospital, we all were. But it's time you calmed down a little bit, OK? You can't talk like that about Heero, when you haven't even heard his side of the story, yet.'

'I don't need to! I was there for the live show, Trowa. Unless it was some sort of shared optical illusion, he kissed Relena and if Duo dies it will be all his fault! So don't you dare tell me to try to understand or sympathise with him.'

'We don't know exactly what happened. And Duo isn't your personal property. It's up to him to make a decision about whether or not he sees Heero.'

'Fine,' Quatre said shortly. 'When and if Duo wakes up, he can decide for himself. Anyway, they'd broken up a month before all this happened, if you remember. Heero's not even Duo's boyfriend anymore, so he doesn't get to see him, and he doesn't get to have any say in what's going on. Not after the way he betrayed Duo.'

'Betrayed Duo or betrayed you?' Trowa arched an eyebrow at him. 'This isn't about you and Heero. It's about Duo.'

'What precisely is that supposed to mean?'

'You know damn well what it means! Will you, for one minute, take Heero off that pedestal, and admit that he's the same age as us, that he isn't perfect, that he makes mistakes?

'I know he isn't perfect,' Quatre snapped.

The one eyebrow not hidden under a smooth fall of hair rose suddenly. 'Really? That's hard to believe, the way you used to talk about him.'

'Trowa, don't! Nothing ever happened. You know that. I'd never have done that to Duo.'

'You'd have done that to me?'

'NO! Of course not. I'd never, never cheat on you. Never! I'd die first. And it was never like that. I've never loved anyone but you, never and…'

'Quatre, calm down!'

'No!' Quatre lost it suddenly. He'd been trying so very hard to keep hold of some sort of equilibrium, and it just wasn't working. 'Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Trowa Barton! This is all Heero's fault, all of it. He does not deserve to get to be with Duo. I never want to see him again, and if you…'

'Stop it.' Trowa was suddenly standing beside him, one hand clamped over Quatre's mouth. 'I mean it. Don't say something you're going to regret. Do you hear me?'

The blond head nodded once, resentfully.

'Good. Now, I am going to visit Duo, and I suggest you try to pull yourself together before you leave this room.'

Quatre stared uncomprehendingly as Trowa picked up his jacket and headed for the door. Trowa wouldn't … wouldn't just leave him, would never walk out on him.

'Tro, wait! I'm sorry. Don't go, please. I'll do anything you want, but please, please, I don't want to see Heero. Not now.'

For one horrifying, heart-stopping moment, Quatre thought that Trowa was going to push him away, and then a pair of long arms folded him into a close embrace.

'You were going to leave me,' he sobbed wretchedly. 'I'm sorry, Trowa. I know you're the sensible, mature one and I'm too emotional, but I can't help it. It's just - I saw them! I saw Heero with Relena, and I saw Duo's face, and I felt - the pain, it was like I'd been stabbed and…' Quatre took a deep breath, lifting his face to meet Trowa's eyes. 'It hurt. I've never felt anything like it. He'd been so happy just before it all happened, he'd been so excited about seeing Heero again, and then it all turned into a nightmare.'

Trowa sighed. 'I'll never leave you. Never. But, God, Quatre, sometimes I don't know how to cope when you're like that.'

'I know,' Quatre scrubbed one hand across his eyes, willing the tears to just - stop. 'I'm sorry. I do try, but sometimes, it all just gets too much. It - it scares me, too, Tro. It's not like I want to feel these things; I've never wanted to.'

'Oh, angel,' Trowa's expression softened, finally. 'Don't worry. We'll fix it. There has to be something we can do.'

Quatre sniffed, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief. 'My father spent years trying to cure me, Tro. Nothing ever worked.'

'You don't need to be cured, kitten. There's nothing wrong with you. We just need to find a way to control your empathy a little. That' s all.'

'OK,' Quatre whispered. Gazing into Trowa's eyes, it was almost possible to believe him. He knew his partner would never want to keep him drugged, or undergo any of the awful shock therapies his father had forced him to try, but…what else was there, really?

'I mean it, Quatre. We'll manage, between us, somehow. We always do. And just think about the whole thing with Heero, all right? I know how difficult it is, but you can't take over someone else's relationship and run it the way you want to. Duo is going to recover; however long it takes. It's possible that he may forgive Heero. It's possible he may not.' He gave Quatre a sad little smile. 'It's their business, love, not ours, and you'll just have to accept whatever they decide. As far as I can see, very few couples who get together so young actually stay together.'

Quatre gasped, horrified. 'Tro! What about us?'

'We're different. We'll always stay together. Come on, who else would put up with me?'

'Don't talk like that! It's not funny,' Quatre said shakily. 'I know no one else would ever want me, but you ... you could have anyone you wanted.'

Trowa's mouth twisted into an ugly parody of a smile. 'I'm not sure if there's all that much demand out there for banged-up ex-mercenaries in less than pristine condition.'

'I wish you wouldn't put yourself down like that!' Quatre reached up one hand to sweep the fall of butterscotch hair aside, revealing his lover's face. It made his heart ache; the way Trowa felt about himself sometimes. He was so like Duo; they just hid things differently. 'I wish you could see yourself for one second, the way I see you. How incredible you are.'

'Quatre…' Trowa shifted uncomfortably, canting his head so that the shield of hair fell over his face. It was always the same. Naked, in his lover's arms, he lapped up Quatre's lavish compliments; take him out of bed and they made him uneasy. 'I think you're a little biased, kitten.'

'Well, of course I am,' Quatre said, very matter of factly, and managed a faint smile. 'It's my job to be biased. And to tell you at regular intervals how wonderful you are, and how much you mean to me.'

It was perfectly true, all of it. Tro needed someone in his life, to reassure him that he was a good person, that he was lovable, and cherished and deserved to be loved. And Tro didn't like letting people get close to him; even after almost two years, there were still things he didn't feel comfortable talking about.

Quatre bit his lip, trying to concentrate on the little sting of pain, and to block out the emotions swirling around his lover. Trowa needed him; needed Quatre to be strong and calm and supportive right now.

'Don't doubt me, love. OK?' Trowa murmured. 'You're everything to me; you make the world sparkle, you're the first person who ever made me feel like I'm worth something. I'd never, never leave you.'

'I know.' His smile was real this time. Tangled in all the ravelled skeins of Trowa's emotions, his love for Quatre was a glimmering, almost tangible thing. 'Tro, would you mind if I met you at the hospital? I might go for a walk in the grounds first. I can't remember the last time I was outside.'

'I'll come with you,' Trowa offered at once.

'No, it's fine. I need to take a shower, and you know that always takes me ages, even without you helping.'

'OK.' Trowa kissed him, one of those long, lingering kisses that was all about taste and sensation and set all his nerves dancing, and gave him a shrewd look before letting him go. 'Take your time, baby. You probably need a little time to yourself, anyway. Just don't go out by yourself, OK? Let Rashid or Auda know when you're ready to leave.'

Quatre nodded gratefully, blew Trowa kisses as he went out the door, and abruptly sat on the end of the bed. It really was quite terribly rumpled. Maybe he should try to tidy up before leaving?

He knew - he knew - how much Trowa loved him. But that didn't mean Tro would never run out of patience with him. He'd thought Heero had loved Duo and…no, he wouldn't think about that.

Trowa was nothing like Heero; he was loyal and faithful and loving. He'd accepted the fact of Quatre's empathy, had never made an issue of it. When he thought Quatre was getting too excited or worked up about something, he swept him off to bed, or there'd been a couple of occasions when he'd simply been thrust under a cold shower, or into a cold bath. Horrible, but it worked, most of the time.

It scared his lover sometimes; just how the empathy could control him. It scared Quatre as well. He'd thought, the first year of the war, that he'd finally learned to control it.

The Zero system had messed up all of that though, had messed everything up. Had totally annihilated the fragile barriers he'd managed to create, and he'd never quite managed to craft them again. For the final months of the war, he'd coped by focusing on missions.

Living at the circus had been horrendously difficult. People had been friendly enough to his face, especially when Trowa was around, but even without the benefit of empathy, he'd heard the sniggers, the tail end of jokes about him being Barton's little bitch, the speculations about what Trowa did to him. He'd never experienced anything like that before.

It really hadn't helped that Cathy, whom everyone liked, resented his presence in her brother's life. The people at the circus had known her for years; they'd seen her grow up without her real family, and they'd seen how happy she was to find her long lost brother. Quatre was the Gundam Pilot who'd taken that away from her.

It hadn't helped that everyone thought he was only there for a lark, before returning to real life, or the fact that the Maguanacs were always present, or that everyone at the circus put his formal manners, the only way he really knew how to behave, down to snobbishness.

In the end, he'd spent most of his time locked in their horrid little trailer, reading or playing music by himself. And then he'd bought the motorbike. It had ostensibly been a gift to Trowa - Duo had helped him choose the model - but it had become Quatre's safety valve. Trowa wasn't overly keen on him going off alone, and the Maguanacs hated it, but he was a former Gundam Pilot, for Allah's sake, and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Besides, he was as good as any of them at sneaking off unobserved, and once he had a helmet covering his distinctive blond hair, he was just a guy on a bike.

There were bright spots to the months they'd spent at the circus, of course. They'd got to spend every night together, and eat together, and do things when Trowa wasn't working, but it had still been a relief when Trowa had suggested they move to L4.

Returning to the colony had been a nightmare. For some insane reason, he'd thought it would be easier. He would have a job, a mission, and he would be with his family. His sisters had all been pressuring him to go back, and he'd naively thought it meant that they'd missed him.

They hadn't of course. They'd wanted everything to go back to being the way it had been; to have Quatre back home as their obedient, malleable little brother, instead of running around the universe with a travelling circus. Disgracing the family name, and his father's memory.

They'd flung all kinds of accusations at him over the first few weeks he'd been home; blaming him for his father's death, for the war itself, for all the people who had died, for the sudden lack of prosperity on L4.

Of course, the worst bits had been the things that his sisters, those gently reared young ladies, hadn't sullied their mouths with. With the empathy still raw and tender, he'd known it all. What they'd thought of Trowa, of himself, of the two of them together.

And he'd have to go back. He'd stay on Earth for as long as Duo needed him, of course, but at some point, he'd have to go back to L4 and do his Winner thing, as Duo called it.

Quatre took a deep breath, holding it while he counted, trying to think of nothing but the breath. It sometimes worked. Today, of course, it wouldn't be nearly enough. Today, he needed more.

He'd have to lie to Trowa later, he thought, rummaging through their toiletries bag. He'd pretend a razor blade had been loose in the bottom of the bag, and he hated not being able to tell Tro the truth. It was necessary, this time.

He'd reached out to feel Trowa's emotions just before his partner had left. Anxiety for Quatre and Duo, regret, sorrow, and hovering over all the negative emotions, the first tendrils of depression. Hardly surprising, given what they'd all been through. But if Trowa was going to fall into one of those bouts of depression, then Quatre would have to be the strong one, stronger than any outside emotions.

He hadn't meant to cut so deep, but the sweet kiss of steel into flesh had produced the blissful sting of oblivion. Bliss. Physical pain was so much easier to take, so much easier to deal with.

Trowa wouldn't suspect anything, surely. He wouldn't think that it had been anything more than a silly accident.

The first time, it had actually been a genuine accident. He'd only been a child, seven or eight. A child who spent his days drifting alone through the Winner estates; his sisters had either married or been sent to boarding school and he was largely ignored by the servants, or his older sisters.

He'd been making a card for Yasmina's birthday and the scissors - which he wasn't supposed to be using - had slipped and one of the points had stabbed into his palm.

Even ten years later, he could still remember that utter fascination of his own blood, somehow proving that he was real, and alive. That he existed. The amazing thing had been that the sharp pain had somehow taken over his mind. For the first time since he could remember, there was nothing else in his head. No external emotions jabbing at his consciousness. Just himself.

He'd stopped the habit sometime before he'd met the Maguanacs, and he couldn't entirely remember the first time when he'd started again.

Sometime after they'd gone to live on L4, after the War, probably? It had been difficult though; no one had cared over much about him as a boy. If anyone had noticed the little cuts, they'd presumably chalked them to the inevitable childhood injuries common to young boys.

It was different now, because he had Trowa, and Trowa liked to touch and taste and examine every inch of his lover's body when they made love. It made things difficult. Not impossible though; they were apart sometimes. Trowa liked to visit Cathy regularly and there were a few times when Quatre had visited Duo and Heero alone. If he made the cuts shallow enough, they healed in a couple of days.

Quatre held his hand under the tap, relishing the cold sting of the water, until the blood stopped gushing. Twenty minutes later, walking across the cool hospital grounds, he could still feel only the razor slicing through his flesh. No echoes from Duo at all.

It felt wonderful. Walking alone across the tree-lined lawn with a cold breeze caressing his cheek. It had been a mild winter; even in the last few days of December there were a few small white flowers nestled in sheltered patches. Snowdrops, he thought they were called.

The garden of the Winner mansion on L4 was a showpiece carefully crafted by the finest landscapers in the universe, but it was still utterly artificial. Every blade of grass, every bush was the product of computer programmes and imagination. Even the flowers in the so-called 'wild garden' had been carefully selected to replicate a spring meadow on Earth.

Here, it was all haphazard and natural, the way a garden should be. One day, when he and Trowa finally had their home on Earth, they'd have a garden like this one, complete with butterflies and bees and songbirds. No spiders, though, not if they could prevent it.

Quatre checked an old bench carefully for insects - they sometimes lurked in odd corners - and then sat down.

Duo would love this place. Quatre had tried to help him make a garden in the house he'd shared with Heero, but it hadn't worked. They'd done everything the book said, but when they'd checked the next day, the seeds hadn't grown at all. He'd wanted so much to make a garden for Heero to come home to.

Bastard, Quatre said aloud, very daringly, and then glanced around to make sure no one had overheard the obscenity.

Bastard, he thought silently. He'd trusted Heero to care for his friend and it had all gone wrong. And he wasn't going to start crying again. He was going to be calm and collected and mature.

He was going to think about Trowa.

'You make my world sparkle' he'd said, a comment that Quatre wanted to cherish, and hug to his chest, and replay over and over in his head. It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that, but he'd never used that particular phrase before. It was so beautiful. His partner wasn't really into making flowery declarations of love; that being Quatre's forte, but when he did, Quatre's whole world glowed.

He loved the other man so much. And he was not going to cry; he wasn't. Quatre scrubbed one hand across his eyes; he was going to be calm and collected and…

'Winner?' It was Wufei's voice, sounding oddly unsure for once. 'What's wrong? Have they told you something about Duo?'

Blast. Of all the people who could have seen him like this, it had to be Wufei. Quatre sat up, shaking his head, expecting to see pure contempt in the other's dark eyes. Wufei was one of the few people he'd never been able to read; disjointed flashes of emotion that rarely made sense.

'Duo's fine.' Quatre sat up, biting his lip as he realised what he'd said. Of course, Duo was anything but fine. 'I mean, there isn't any change. He's stable. Hilde's with him, and Sally. I think Trowa should be there as well, I just wanted to get some fresh air.'

Oh, stop babbling, Winner. He doesn't want to hear that.

Wufei apparently didn't, turning on his heel and walking back toward the hospital.

Quatre sighed, drawing his knees up to his chin and hugging his ankles. Wonderful. It was obviously not his day. Well, what had he expected Wufei to do, really? Give him a hug and tell him everything would be all right?

He was probably lucky that the other man hadn't read him a lecture on proper behaviour. He'd been on the receiving end of a number of those since the war ended. Some of them, he hadn't even dared to tell Trowa about. They'd been friendly enough during the war, Trowa and Wufei. Tro had even brought 05 to the circus at one point, and Wufei had expected his fellow pilot to enlist in Preventers. He'd blamed Quatre's influence when the other man hadn't.

They'd hurt; all the things Wufei had said to him, almost more than the insults from his family. Wufei had been a comrade, someone he'd tried to make friends with. He'd been wallowing in guilt anyway, from what he'd done during the war, and in those first few weeks after it ended, Wufei had unerringly managed to point out every single weakness, everything he'd been tormenting himself about.

He'd even brought up what Quatre had done under the Zero system. He hadn't told Trowa that, of course.

It didn't help that their cultures were roughly similar; both orientated toward family and duty rather than personal preferences.

The Chinese pilot had seen Quatre's refusal to go home, to honour his family and his ancestors almost as a personal affront. His decision to run off to the circus with Trowa also destroyed any chance of Tro joining Preventers, which Wufei had wanted. Ideally, he would have liked them all to enlist, to stay together, but Heero and Trowa were the two he truly admired. Duo would be around anyway, as Heero's lover, and he scarcely knew Quatre.

He had been hurting, Quatre knew that. He'd killed Treize, he was having to come to terms with the deaths of his family, the destruction of his home, with the fact that nothing he could ever do would bring them back. He'd needed to lash out at someone and Quatre had been there. That was all.

'Winner.' Oh, Allah. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? Wufei's voice was oddly gentle as he proffered a cardboard cup. 'Drink this.'

Quatre accepted the cup, surprised that Wufei apparently knew his favourite blend of tea. 'Thank you.'

'Do you... want to talk about it?'

Quatre gave him an uncertain little nod.

I'm not sure if you'd want to hear it, though. What would you say, Wufei, if I told you my ass aches because I let my boyfriend tie me up and do all sorts of things that you would consider utterly perverted? If I told you that I'm not just gay but I like to let Trowa take charge sometimes. Oh, and I also cut myself occasionally because it's the only way that I know to block out other people's emotions. And it proves that I'm real.

No, the honourable Chang Wufei wouldn't want to hear any of that. But ...he needed to talk to someone. And in the absence of Duo or Heero, Wufei would have to do.

Aloud, he said, 'Trowa and I had an argument.'

Wufei's dark brows lifted slightly. 'I didn't think you two ever fought.'

'Well, we do,' Quatre admitted. It got a little wearing sometimes, how everyone just assumed he and Trowa were the perfect couple. Which they were, really, but they were also two highly passionate, strong-minded, stubborn individuals. Of course, they had the occasional difference of opinion.

Wufei looked uncomfortable, sipping his tea and trying to look anywhere but at Quatre.

'I am sure it is not very serious,' he said finally, awkwardly. 'Barton seems to - to care for you a great deal, from what I have observed.'

'It was about Heero,' Quatre said softly. 'Trowa thinks that I am being too - judgemental about what happened. I - I saw him with Relena, that night. I saw them, Wufei. How on earth am I supposed to get past that? We still don't even know if Duo will regain consciousness, or …or anything.' He took a deep breath, trying to calm a little.

'I felt him, Wufei. I felt him when he saw Heero with Relena. I know how much it hurt him.'

'I have always envied you the gift.' Wufei looked down at his own hands, linked around his cup. 'To know what people are thinking, what they think about you, must be very valuable. I am...unskilled at telling these things.'

'It doesn't work that way. Not really. I can pick up emotions, sometimes, but it usually only happens with people I know very well, or if the emotions are very strong.'

'Can you tell what I'm feeling?' He sounded reluctantly curious.

Quatre hesitated. He didn't really need the empathy to tell that Wufei was lost and confused and troubled, but he probably didn't want to hear that.

'I can't just do it on demand. Not at any time, but especially not now, when I can feel Duo, and I know Trowa's angry with me.' That hurt, knowing that he'd somehow disappointed his lover.

'He and Heero have always been very close.' Wufei's tone was carefully colourless.

'In my opinion, Yuy behaved dishonourably.'

Quatre nodded. 'Trowa says I need to hear his side of the story, before I judge him.'

Wufei offered a disdainful sniff. 'What can he say in his defence, truly? Everyone saw what he did, including both of us.'

'I know,' Quatre sounded uncertain. 'But Trowa thinks we should at least listen to him. He says Heero's devastated, and desperately sorry for what happened.'

'Then it serves him right,' Wufei said crisply. 'You're not going to go along with that, are you? I hadn't thought you were in the habit of allowing Barton to make your decisions for you.'

'Not really, no.' Quatre blushed, taking a sip of his tea. If Trowa really wanted him to forgive Heero, he would go along with it. People always thought Trowa was the quiet one, utterly in thrall to his vivacious blond partner, but in reality, Trowa called the shots more often than not, when it came to the big decisions.

'Good. There is no excuse for Yuy's behaviour. None.' He glared at his tea as if it had offered him a mortal insult. 'It was a betrayal of the worst kind.

Quatre nodded. This conversation was…bizarre. Wufei and Duo had been close for a few months after the war; then something had happened. Duo had never figured out what had gone wrong, except that Wufei had just stopped contacting him, and he'd been terribly upset.

'What is it?' Wufei looked at him curiously. 'Can you …sense something?'

'I told you, it doesn't work like that.' It came out a little more irritable than Quatre had intended. 'I'm sorry. I just get tired of people - asking me things. I don't have any control over it, not any more. Not really. Not since Zero.'

Allah be praised, Wufei didn't comment on that. Instead, he frowned slightly.

'How did you control it before?'

'I'm not sure if I can explain.' Quatre set down his empty cup, and rested his chin on his knees. 'When I was younger, my father tried all sorts of methods; medication, counselling, shock therapy. There was one therapist, I think he may have been from L5, actually, who taught me some meditation techniques when I was about twelve. Father dismissed him after a month or so, but he'd already shown me the basics by then, and it really helped.'

'I have studied the discipline of meditation for years,' Wufei said slowly. 'If you wish, if you think it would help at all, we could perhaps practise together.'

'Would you really? That would be so wonderful if you could.'

Wufei gave him a considering look. 'For a start, your posture is utterly incorrect. You need to learn to sit properly before anything else. Now, straighten your back….'