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Struck, Trowa froze, forgetting completely the proper protocol for greeting a superior. Richmond seemed not to notice though and hurried forward to smack him on the back like an old friend, the other commanders staring in surprise at how friendly he was with such a new and supposedly unknown commander.
"Barton! My boy! What a surprise finding you here!"
Remembering himself, Trowa stepped back and saluted, stating the colonel's name in greeting but unable to come up with anything else. Richmond's smile was massive as he waved the others off and wrapped an arm around Trowa's shoulder, leading him back toward the door he had just exited. Back toward Information Extraction and back toward Quatre.
Oh shit.
"My boy my boy my boy! I was worried I'd never see you again, since Colonel Khushrenada has taken such great pains to keep us apart," he began, his words difficult for Trowa to follow as his mind went into overdrive, trying to make sense of this sudden devastating development. Even his muscles didn't want to obey, his stride short as Richmond almost dragged him along.
"Hm, I suppose I ought to address all that, before I get back to business as usual, hm?" Richmond hugged his shoulders even tighter and lowered his voice, leaning closely. "You must know, he was emphatic in stating that you never once spoke poorly of me and that you conducted yourself with the upmost loyalty all through his intrusive and meddlesome interrogation. I want you to know that I believe his account wholeheartedly, since he's the most honest man I've ever known in my entire life, one whom I'd sooner chop off my own finger than ever believe he's told a lie. So here we are again, back together, as fate would have it, and I'm ecstatic. We have unfinished business, and I assume my absence has kept you waiting and very likely, wanting. Am I wrong?" He laughed heartily, as if they were discussing their choices for dinner, not the fate of another human being. "Or," he went on, "has the Colonel scared you away from that prospect with his self-righteous notions of human nature and morality?"
"He hasn't." Trowa said, inwardly wincing as he did so. To protect Quatre, he was willing to do anything, including the one thing he'd imagined he'd escaped. Of course, he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he was overwhelmingly disappointed, the strangled feeling in his gut making that sentiment all the more apparent as Richmond led him back toward Quatre. Why the hell was he heading there and why was he bringing Trowa? What sort of plans did he have, and would he now demand more than their deal had originally encompassed? The possibilities were endless when it came to this guy, and that wasn't even the worst part about his sudden appearance, either. Him being here heavily compromised the escape plan. In fact, now that he was here, Trowa wasn't even certain he'd be able to pull off any of them, which meant this entire development was beyond devastating; it was cataclysmic.
Richmond showed his ID to the guard outside Quatre's cell and the man allowed them admittance, his eyes landing warily on Trowa in an almost questioning look. Trowa ignored him and strode inside with as much authority and strength as he could muster; the exact opposite of how he felt. If Richmond asked him to interact with Quatre, would the boy be so furious with him that he'd choose to blow his cover? Would he do something that reckless? It was insane to think that he might, but that look earlier, those furious eyes, they'd scared the living hell out of him. It wasn't a look he'd ever seen from Quatre, and now he was questioning everything.
Trowa closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind. Quatre was smarter than his negativity was allowing for. Even if he truly believed Trowa to be a traitor, he'd probably try to use the information to his own advantage instead of giving it up in a fit of desperate rage. At least, that was what Trowa would do, and Quatre, he was certain, was much smarter and more capable, which meant he wouldn't. Not without trying everything else first.
Inside the cell, Quatre wasn't immediately visible, but with a glance at the television screen above the two-way mirror Trowa found him crouched on the other side of the stone table, his face buried in his hands. Almost as if he were crying. The sight was shocking, since Trowa couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Quatre appear weak, and it broke his heart. What had he done? And worst of all, what more would he be forced to do?
"My my, our sweet boy is awake! How wonderful." Richmond took off his coat and hung it on the wall, rolling up his sleeves and stepping nearer to the screen to get a better view.
"Hmm, he looks a little worse for wear. Is that what you four were in here for? Giving the boy a piece of your mind?"
Trowa tensed, unsure how to best respond. With Treize, honesty had been the best approach, but it was obvious that the same approach with Richmond would not play out nearly as favorably. Still, he had to be careful not to be caught in any sort of lie.
"Not for me, but I think for them."
"What was your reason?"
"I… I just wanted to make sure they didn't touch him."
"Touch him? But they… Oh, I see what you mean. You wanted to maintain your claim, is that it?"
Trowa nodded, sick at himself for playing this repulsive game. Richmond giggled, seeming enraptured at the thought.
"Then you'll be oh so happy to hear my idea! I've never been the type to demand that I have my way first, and I want you to stake your claim, if you so desire, before the opportunity is lost. I'd planned on getting started with him straight away when I returned, due to some other pressing issues that I must attend to soon, but since I'm earlier than expected and our deal is still on, despite Colonel Khushrenada's meddling, I can pivot and give you your time with him now. We can carry out your end of the bargain later, if that still works, of course. How does that sound?"
Forcing down a lump in his throat, Trowa nodded.
"Wonderful!" Richmond said, "What are your conditions? I'm sorry to say that despite how he looks, and, I assume, what you and the other commanders learned based on Smith's appearance just now, the boy is incredibly dangerous, and I cannot allow him to leave his cell. Also, I'm afraid to leave you completely alone with him, in case something happens. I'm sure you understand."
"I do." Trowa said, his mind racing for ideas. To talk as if he were a monster was one thing, but to bring himself to the point of acting like one was entirely different. All this time, he'd felt certain he'd be able to escape having to prove this lie, but here he was, at a crossroads between Quatre's dignity, and Quatre's life. On top of all that, Quatre didn't trust him now, which meant there was no hope for a secrete understanding. If he went through with this, he may never be forgiven.
Suddenly, another possibility occurred to him. A dangerous possibility. If he acted on it, it could get him out of having to humiliate Quatre at all and also work to save his life. If, of course, he handled everything perfectly and didn't end up killing him in the process; that being the only drawback to the plan, that it was physically dangerous for Quatre. Very dangerous. If Trowa wasn't exact, or was too rough, he could end up being killed.
Par for the course, in their line of work.
"The cell is fine," Trowa began, taking great care to keep his voice level. "But I want to be unobserved."
Richmond frowned, shaking his head regretfully. "Like I said, I cannot leave you alone with him. At least, not in his current state. He's a little roughed up, but nothing close to enough to keep him from harming you. If something happened, I'd never forgive myself."
"I don't want him drugged." Trowa said.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"I think I can convince him to do what I want. Will you give me a chance to try?"
"As long as I can keep an eye on you."
"Once I've convinced him, will you leave us?"
"You'll have to convince me, too. That it's safe for you."
"I think you'll be convinced."
Richmond smiled mischievously. "Alright then, let's see what you've got up your sleeve."
Trowa gulped, hoping his plan worked so he didn't have to come up with some way of convincing Quatre to let him "have his way with him," which wasn't even really "his way," since he had always imagined intimacy with Quatre to be entirely positive, consensual, and not under the watchful eye of an evil shell of a human. Going to the control panel beside the door, he typed at the screen to turn off the cell's cameras.
"Is it alright to turn these off? I don't want this advertised or recorded since I'm not in the same position with the Lieutenant Colonel as you are."
"Of course of course. I understand. Please though, leave the door open. I'll be as quiet as I can while I get things ready for later. The outer door will be closed so there won't be any chance of him escaping."
Trowa nodded and grabbed a pair of handcuffs off the wall, a hiss emanating through the room as he opened the cell door. Quatre's head jerk up and he thrust himself into a standing position, a stifled grimace on his face as he nearly fell back down, grabbing the metal attachments on the edge of the stone table to keep his balance. Those blue eyes were swimming with tears, just as Trowa had suspected, but there wasn't an ounce of softness in them, just stern defiance and a hint of fury. The urge to go to him and offer comfort with a gentle touch almost overcame Trowa, but that desire was immediately quelled by the cold hard reality of their situation. Providing comfort now was impossible, since it would only result in future pain and suffering for them both. He had to maintain his role, the role of captor, no matter how much it tore him up inside.
"If you agree to cooperate, I won't hurt you. I'll be gentle." Trowa said, holding out the handcuffs. Quatre's eyes narrowed, confused, and instead of answering, he spit at Trowa's feet. The exact response Trowa had hoped for, but maybe with a bit less raw hatred. Nowhere in those eyes could he tell that Quatre was playing a role. He hates me now, I blew it. Still, moving forward was the only option, and now he had an excuse to force things.
Pocketing the handcuffs, he stepped forward and punched Quatre hard in the gut, a groan barely escaping his lips before Trowa kicked him onto his side and delivered kick after kick to his stomach, chest, and pelvis. Hard and painful, but not so hard that they'd cause internal damage. He'd had enough of that from Smith. After a moment of allowing Quatre to splutter and cough, he pulled the handcuffs from his pocket and restrained his thin wrists behind his back, lifting him from the ground and pushing him against the stone table, those blue, pain-filled eyes sending a spark of nauseating guilt through him. Quickly, he pushed the feeling aside.
"This is your last chance. I'll restrain you, but not hurt you again, if you promise to cooperate. If you don't cooperate, I'll still do whatever I want, but it will be under much more painful circumstances and with much less freedom of movement on your part."
Quatre's eyes met his, the pain reflected clearly, along with a seemingly infinite number of emotions and unspoken thoughts. As if he were truly conflicted. The hiss of another door called their attention to the open cell as Richmond entered the storage closet directly adjacent to the opening.
"I'll be right back," came his muffled voice from inside, "Just grabbing a couple of things."
Quatre's eyes went from the open door to the camera in the corner, a gleam of recognition dawning as they flicked back to Trowa's. The ice in his gaze thawed suddenly, like spring had come early.
"I'm sorry," he whispered so quietly Trowa almost missed it, and that beautiful blonde head fell forward to rest against his shoulder. Trowa stiffened, grabbing Quatre by the shoulders and almost shoving him away, but Quatre moved closer, pressing his body into Trowa's in a soft, vulnerable gesture.
"What?" Trowa whispered back, shocked at this sudden change. Had those earlier looks been an act? Or was this, right now, an act? Without warning, Quatre leaned up and caught his lips in a desperate kiss, and reflexively, Trowa jerked back, still on guard and ready for a fight. Quatre pressed into the kiss, seeming unwilling to let the moment pass. A shockwave ran through Trowa's body. What… was this? And what in the world was Quatre apologizing for? The kiss was so gentle and so sincere. It felt… real. But that furious look earlier had seemed so real too. Which was it? Leaning into the kiss now, Trowa worked to lower his emotional defenses, something he'd only ever learned to do after meeting Quatre. A shudder ran through him, and his deepest desires took hold, the kiss igniting a deep passion.
This was real. It was fucking real.
A thump came from the closet, and they both separated as Richmond stumbled from the open door, carrying a case. A case with a hard outside shell, the inside probably filled with tools. Tools he'd be using on Quatre. A sickening urgency overcame Trowa, and those blue eyes met his again, this time bursting with fear. Don't worry Quatre, I have a plan. I'm going to protect you. If only his eyes could say those exact words, but hopefully his determined expression would give Quatre enough of an idea. If that kiss had communicated any truth at all, then he knew, without a doubt, that Quatre would do anything, including take great risks, to escape this hellhole. So even though he didn't have direct consent, it was the best he was going to get. Now was the time to act.
Quatre seemed to think so too, since he head-butted Trowa in the chest and sent him flying several steps backward, almost knocking him to the floor. Catching himself in a wide stance, Trowa lunged forward and slammed a fist into the side of his head, in the temple, right where he knew was most sensitive. The stone table broke Quatre's fall and his lifeless body dropped heavily against the floor.
The sight was unnerving, even though he'd planned this, and a desperate anxiety gripped his chest as he resisted the urge to immediately kneel and check on him. It was imperative that he continue with the act, since Richmond was probably watching, and he needed to appear surprised, as if what he'd done had been an accident. Faking a panicked glance around the room, he bit his lip and stepped back as if he wanted to bolt, then got ahold of himself, rubbed his face, and stepped hesitantly forward to kneel and check Quatre's pulse. Hot skin throbbed against his fingers and relief washed over him. He's not dead at least. Now all he had to worry about was if Quatre woke up too early. Or too late. Or… God forbid, not at all.
"Barton! What's going on?" Richmond screamed, his body now in the doorway. Trowa froze, trying to appear at a loss for words, even though the words were waiting patiently in the que in his head.
"I—I uh," he began, sounding as hesitant as he could, "I didn't mean to…"
"Is he alive?" Richmond rushed over, hunching over Quatre to slap his face and feel for a pulse. "Good god, I was worried you'd killed him, but he's just unconscious." He sighed heavily. "I didn't see what happened—did he attack you?"
"He tried, but I evaded him and hit him too hard in retaliation. It was completely my fault. My stupid temper."
"Oh no no no, don't say that. You don't have anything resembling a temper, trust me, I'd know, as someone who does." He laughed hollowly, looking Quatre over as he thought. "Well… I think we'll have to have him transported to the med bay to assess the damage, unfortunately. I can't risk losing him."
"Does that mean the deal is off?" Trowa asked, doing his best to sound desperately disappointed. Richmond looked surprised.
"Well, I," he paused, "I suppose if he ends up waking up and isn't too hurt, we could continue—"
"Please. If at all possible. I'm willing to wait all night. No... I'll wait as long as I need to. Whenever he's up, I'll stop whatever I'm doing so I can get in here before anyone touches him. I just need a few minutes, sir. Please."
"Barton, of course. I hadn't realized how… decrepit you are," he laughed, seeming surprised but also truly pleased. "It's hard to read you, you keep your emotions so close to the chest. But you've really been looking forward to this, haven't you?"
"I'm sorry, that's an old habit of mine. But was beside myself when I saw you were back early. I… need this. Maybe you don't understand it, but this is something I've needed for a long time."
"Oh, I understand more than you know. How do you think I've come to be in this position? It's no accident, let me tell you. Let's get the boy out of here and we'll see how things develop, alright? I'll call a med team now."
He rushed back to the observation room and Trowa stepped back, praying that Quatre stayed unconscious. At least until he carried out the second part of his plan; the part that would be much more difficult and much more dangerous for him than for Quatre. If he played his hand right, he'd have a small window of time to get Quatre up and on his way to earth, alive, and hopefully in one piece. A tall order, he knew, but one he'd been making, over and over, since the beginning of the war. Since the beginning of his life, actually. So far, he'd always gotten more or less what he'd ordered. But there was always a first time for everything.
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