Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ❯ Quatre - 3 ( Chapter 6 )

Part VI

Quatre awoke to the sounds of a mumbled conversation. He groggily peered around his room, sinking back into the comfort of his blankets. The conversation seemed to get closer, and Quatre could make out Trowa's voice. There was a pause before Trowa spoke again. This time, Quatre could make out the words.

"Quatre is very sick, and the doctors have confined him to bed." A pause. "No, he won't be coming into work for a while." Trowa's voice got closer and Quatre almost closed his eyes completely, staring at his open bedroom door through his eyelashes. "He has Mono." Trowa's head appeared, the phone receiver held securely to his face by his hand curled around the mouthpiece, and the base propped against his hip as he drug the phone through the entire apartment. Quatre couldn't resist a smile as he realized that Trowa was checking on him. Maybe someone cared after all. He watched as Trowa smiled and entered the room completely, still arguing with the person on the other line.

"Look, I know that Quatre has responsibilities, however, he is sick. It took a lot of cajoling on my part to get him released from the hospital. If you want, gather up all of his paperwork and I'll stop by the office and pick it up for him." Trowa rolled his eyes as Quatre's heart flung itself into his throat. No! No paperwork. The bed dipped as Trowa sat down. Quatre's eyes were wide open. Trowa's tone darkened. "Will that be adequate, sir?" A lengthy pause while Trowa's face turned into a scowl. "I'm sorry sir, but this is how it's going to have to be. Until Quatre can get over this sickness, he won't be in the office. You will just have to reschedule his appointments either with someone else or have them take a rain check. I'm sorry if this puts undue pressure on you sir, but think about what happens when you are sick. There's nothing that can be done. Have a nice day." Trowa slammed the phone down, shaking the whole bed. He passed a hand over his face before turning with smile to face Quatre. Quatre struggled to sit up.

"What was that all about?" Trowa placed the phone on the floor, turning on the bed so he could better face Quatre.

"I just told your secretary that you had Mono." Quatre groaned.

"Shit. Now I'm really gonna have a nice old time when I go back to work." He looked up at Trowa, pleading silently with his eyes. "Please don't get that paperwork. I. . ." He drifted off, not really sure what he was going to say. Trowa smiled again, reaching over to brush Quatre's hair out of his eyes.

"I'll go get it, but I've no intention of you seeing it. Not until you're better at any rate." Trowa's eyes scrunched up and Quatre felt as though he were being scrutinized. He shifted uncomfortably. "Why'd you say that anyway?"

"What? Shit?" Trowa nodded. Quatre sighed. "Because I'm not allowed to get sick. I have to be in my office, hard at work before anyone gets there and I can't leave until everyone else has left. I can't take a lunch break unless itâ€â"¢s a luncheon meeting, and I have to be working unless I'm in a meeting." Trowa's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Who told you this?" Quatre shrugged.

"No one. But I can see it in their eyes. I'm the head honcho, I've got to be a fucking god to them."

"No you don't. You'll work yourself to death if you do that."

"You're the one who talked to my office assistant, you should have an idea of how they view me." Trowa nodded slowly.

"And I don't like it. It's like you aren't even a human being to them." Trowa's voice dropped off and he turned wide eyes to Quatre. Quatre looked away, not being able to face Trowa.

"Now you understand." He whispered, sinking back into the pillows. He rolled away from Trowa onto his side, tucking his arms and legs to his chest, trying to protect himself from the world. "Please leave. I'd like to be alone." He could feel the bed shift and dip. Long fingers brushed against his forehead, combing through his hair. He felt Trowa stretch out beside him and an arm reached around his head. He stared at Trowa's relaxed hand as it stretched out from behind his vision. The fingers combing his hair didn't stop, and he felt relaxed under their ministrations.

"I think not. Why don't we watch TV instead." He could hear the TV click on and its light flickered around the room in shades of muted blue. Quatre didn't move.

"You're not going to get my work?" Beside him, Trowa drew his fingers away from his hair and Quatre could see the channels changing.

"Not until you've had lunch." Quatre half expected his stomach to grumble in response, but it didn't stir. He shifted, turning half onto his back so he could look at Trowa without much effort. Trowa was laying on his back, propped into a somewhat reclined position by the excess of pillows threatening to pour off of Quatre's bed. Trowa had drawn a leg up so his knee was peaked, and the remote was balanced carefully on that knee. He was watching the TV as he flipped through the channels; casually pushing the same button on the remote while it wiggled on its perch. Quatre stared up into Trowa's eyes.

"I haven't been hungry in over a month." Trowa's eyes flicked down at him in shock and Quatre suddenly felt embarrassed. "I've forced myself to eat, but I'm not hungry." His voice seemed small, and he didn't like it. He hadn't felt good in such a long time that it was hard to remember what it even felt like. "I'm tired, Trowa. I'm just tired." Quatre looked away, wondering if Trowa had caught onto the double meaning. Those fingers resumed their combing.

"I think I understand." A comfortable paused filled the room as Quatre closed his eyes to enjoy Trowa's fingers. "I'm sorry."

Eventually, Quatre had relaxed enough to curl up against Trowa's side and fall asleep. And when he woke up, Trowa was gone. Quatre slowly sat up, tears threatening to fall as he figured that Trowa had left again. He was alone. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while leaning on his other. He swung his legs off the side of his bed and pushed himself up. He stood a moment on wobbly legs before moving toward the bathroom. He brushed his hands on every surface he could reach, not trusting in his ability to stand properly. Once in the bathroom he attended to his needs while avoiding looking in the mirror. As he prepared for the trek back to his bed, the smell of bacon was carried on an invisible eddy and swirled around him in a joyous dance. Quatre thought he was going to cry. He hadn't had real bacon in what seemed like ages. Restaurants that catered to the businessman and the rich didn't serve lowly things like bacon. Quatre steadied himself against the wall and made his way into the living room. He stopped as he saw Trowa waltzing around the kitchen making breakfast. Quatre's eyes caught the little green clock on the microwave. He smiled. Breakfast for dinner, what a wonderful concept--another that he hadn't experienced for a long time, this one since the war.

"Smells wonderful." Trowa jumped, dropping an egg and catching it as it plummeted to the floor. He placed the egg on the counter and moved to help Quatre onto one of the barstools that stood along the counter. Quatre laughed at the less than graceful display. "My, my, my, Trowa. You're getting soft. Heero would disapprove." Trowa grinned, eyes dancing with laughter.

"You're the only one who can sneak up on me. Anyway," Trowa leaned closer with a conspiring wink, "Heero's softer than I am." Quatre laughed, the sound rumbling forth from his stomach. He clutched at his sides as he let the rolling laughter loose. His eyes were squeezed shut as he fought with himself to not end up on the floor. Trowa's laughter mingled with his and for once, he was able to forget the strain and be himself. He opened his eyes as his laughter died down and noticed Trowa staring at him with a wistful look on his face.

"What?" Quatre giggled, wiping his eyes for any errant tears that might have formed without his knowledge. "What are you looking at?" Trowa seemed to snap out of whatever revere he was in and turned with a smirk thrown over his shoulder to the stove.

"I made us breakfast. I wanted to wait until you woke up, but I got too hungry." Quatre shrugged.

"The smell was a wonderful way to wake up." Trowa glanced over his shoulder with a smile. "I thought that you had left until I smelled the bacon." Trowa turned to him, smile fading. Quatre refused to look at him, studying instead the swirl of the granite counter. Trowa's fingers reached under his chin, tilting his face up so he had to look into Trowa's eyes.

"I told you, I'm staying." Quatre nodded in Trowa's hand, saying nothing.

______________________________

It wasn't until much later that Quatre began shaking. They had eaten dinner and were relaxing on the couch when Quatre's past caught up with him. Quatre's face flushed and he began shivering. Trowa hovered over him worried sick. Quatre batted Trowa's hands away.

"'M fine." Trowa's eyes narrowed at him.

"No you're not. What's wrong?" Quatre closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a particularly violent seizure ran through him.

"I'd normally be flying." He spat out between clenched teeth. Trowa looked at him a moment before the information sunk in.

"Oh." Trowa slipped his arms under Quatre's shaking body and picked him up easily. "I'm taking you to bed."

"Won't get any better there." Trowa threw an irritated glance down at him.

"No, but at least you won't hurt yourself there." Trowa placed Quatre on the bed.

"I don't need to be fussed over." Trowa frowned his impatience.

"You are going through withdrawals. I don't think it will hurt you." Quatre waved away Trowa's concern with an impatient flick of his hand. He couldn't think straight with the pounding headache that was smashing through his head. He had to keep his teeth clamped tightly together for fear that he would bite his tongue.

"Just give me some Angel Dust and I'll be fine." He saw Trowa's eyes flash with anger and closed his eyes, wishing he could be normal.

"I don't fucking think so, Quatre. I'm not about to help you get your fix." Trowa's voice hissed out between white lips. And Quatre felt bad for everything Trowa was going through. The shaking seemed to die down for a moment, and Quatre could open his eyes fully now.

"I'm sorry I'm putting you through this. You didn't have to stay." Trowa placed his hands on either side of Quatre's head and leaned close.

"I did." Quatre tried to puzzle this out, but he was wracked again with fierce tremors and he turned his face into the pillow. He was cold and burrowing into the pillows didn't help.

"So cold." He hissed out between chattering teeth. He felt Trowa climb onto the bed and gently lay on top of him. "Trowa?" He tried to raise his head but it wouldn't move.

"Shh. I'm going to try to warm you up." Quatre closed his eyes and let Trowa's warmth seep into him. He could feel his tremors slacken.

"Trowa?"

"Hm?"

"Why'd you come back?" He felt Trowa shift and he squirmed out from underneath him. Trowa gathered him in his arms.

"Because I missed my friend. Infrequent phone calls weren't enough."

"Why'd you leave?" Trowa sighed and Quatre nestled into his embrace.

"Because I needed to sort things out. My head was too messed up from the wars and I didn't want you to have to shoulder it for me. I didn't want it to ruin our friendship." Quatre shivered.

"So now you're going to shoulder my fucked up-ness. I bet you feel lucky." Trowa chuckled.

"At least you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"That wasn't a joke, Trowa."

"I'm sorry. I know that I won't break."

"And I would've?"

"It seems as if you did." Trowa brushed back sweaty bangs from Quatre's forehead. "What happened, Quatre? Why did you resort to drugs?" Quatre pushed away from Trowa, scowling when he was too weak to do so. He lay resigned in Trowa's arms.

"Because I wanted to."

"I know for a fact that that's not true." Quatre huffed.

"Because I thought it would help."

"Help what?"

"Help me get over the loss of my family."

"That's a cop out answer if I ever heard one." Quatre glared at Trowa.

"You want to come up with something better?" Trowa didn't answer. "I don't know why, okay. I just did it." He could feel Trowa shrug his shoulders. "What? You don't believe me?"

"No, it's not that. I just think there's something more, that's all."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you." Quatre sat up, glaring down at Trowa.

"I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't ever get a hold of you or Duo or Heero. I couldn't talk to anyone, and I needed someone so badly."

"What about Wufei?" Trowa remained where he was laying, his arms stretched out and waiting for Quatre to settle in them again. Quatre laughed.

"What about Wufei? Talk to him so I can get told how weak I am? How I'm not worthy of the position I hold? How I'm not good enough? I think not, Trowa. I needed someone to listen--not lecture, something at which you aren't very good at either." He watched as Trowa winced and he immediately regretted his words. He was just too fucked up inside, and he couldn't resort to his Angel for help. He wouldn't ever be calm again.

"I was so scared, Quatre." Quatre took Trowa's hand in his own.

"I know, but I can't really help what's falling out of my mouth." Quatre shrugged, looking out of the window. "I'm so confused, and you took away my only comfort." At Trowa's open mouth and intake of breath, Quatre continued. "I know it was wrong, but it was all I had." Trowa reached out a hand and caressed his cheek. He looked down at Trowa as he spoke.

"Maybe you can find comfort in me?" Trowa's voice was small, almost halting in unsurety. Quatre smiled.

"I guess that will have to do."