Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ❯ Crossing Paths - 4 ( Chapter 21 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Part XXI

"What do you think will happen with us?" Silence descended over the car. Trowa shook his head and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"I wish," he stopped, not knowing how to voice his thoughts. "I wish that I could tell you that we would be okay, but it would be a lie." He pulled into the hospital parking lot and quickly found a space to park in. He turned off the car and turned to Duo. "This won't go away, Duo. It will always haunt us for the rest of our lives. Everyone who was involved with this will take it to their graves. It won't just vanish like a wisp of smoke. I'm sorry Duo, but I don't know what to tell you.

"Nothing will ever be the same again. That much I know. The moment I walked away from Quatre, nothing would be the same. The moment he picked up drugs, nothing would be the same. The moment you gave him drugs, and the moment I lost control over my anger and threw you into the table, everything changed. Did Quatre ever think himself capable of using hard drugs? Did I ever think that I'd throw one of my closest friends into a glass table? Did you ever imagine yourself here, at this point in time? None of us did. And there's nothing we can do to revoke our actions. Just like saying sorry, wishes won't change a thing." Duo stared out of the car window -- silent. Trowa settled back into his seat and leaned his head against the headrest. He rubbed his hands over his face, wiping away excess moisture from his eyes. He had told Duo the truth -- nothing would ever be the same again. After a time, he placed his hand on Duo's shoulder, and spoke gently. "We should get you looked at." Duo nodded and opened the car door. He paused before he got out and turned back to Trowa with dull eyes.

"I'll leave you alone then." Duo got out of the car and let the door shut behind him as he walked stiffly to the hospital entrance. Trowa swore under his breath and scrambled out of the car and after Duo.

"Duo, Duo! Wait!" He called, rushing after Duo. He stopped in front of Duo, grasping his shoulders to keep him from walking away. "Duo, I don't want you to go away. That's not what I was trying to say."

"I don't understand! How can you be so forgiving after what I've done?" Trowa swallowed a sudden lump and forced himself to speak around it.

"I haven't forgiven you, but you are still my friend. I don't know if I can forgive you, but I can't just kick you to the curb."

"Why not? I would."

"Because, Duo. Just because." Trowa dropped his hands from Duo's shoulders. "You're one of the only people who I consider my friend. I don't have very many. I don't like most people, they make me uncomfortable, and I feel like I have to be something I'm not. But with you and Quatre and Heero, I can just be myself. As much as I've tried to genuinely hate you over these last few days, I can't forget all of those times that you've made me laugh, or that you've picked me up when I've fallen.

"Now it's my turn to pick you up. I can't forgive you yet, but I can still help you. And maybe through my help, we'll both heal."

"What about Heero? How can I face him?" Trowa smiled, the tension letting up just slightly.

"The same way you've done. He loves you, and he wants to help you. Let him." Duo stared off in the distance. Trowa raked his hand through his hair with a sigh.

"We should get me checked. I hurt." Trowa followed Duo into the hospital, guiding him to a nurse's station.

"Now, are you going to walk away from me?" Trowa asked.

"'Cause you threw me into a table?" Trowa winced.

"Yeah." Duo shrugged and let a nurse lead him into an examination room.

"How could I walk away from a friend?" The door shut, a barrier between Duo and him, but he still smiled anyway. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe, just maybe. He turned away from the examination room, trusting Duo to the able hands of he medical staff, and made his way to Quatre's room.

______________________________

"Where is he?" Heero asked Quatre for the hundredth time since he had discovered that Duo was gone. And for the hundredth time, Quatre answered with silence.

He had woken up late in the morning -- or had it been afternoon? Either way, Duo had been gone. At first, he hadn't thought anything about it; Duo was probably at the cafeteria gorging himself on the terrible hospital food. But as the hours passed with him slipping in and out of sleep, he began to wonder. And that's when he had found that Trowa was gone as well. He had been at Quatre's side ever since, asking his futile question over and over again, hoping to receive an answer that would not come.

He watched the heart monitor, its green bullet flicking across the screen. It didn't seem fair to him; nothing should have ever gone as far as it had. He should have been more observant; he should have paid more attention.

He should have been more trusting.

But how could he have been anything else? He held on to Quatre's limp hand, seeking any strength that it could give him. He also hoped for a twitch -- anything to show that Quatre was getting better.

"Will anything get better? Will we make it through this in one piece? Will we survive?" Heero slumped over, fighting his own warring emotions. What should he even be feeling? He had never wanted this to happen, so why did he feel so guilty? Was his inexplicable guilt due to his gratitude that Duo was, in some strange way, okay? Was he guilty because he would rather have Quatre lying in this coma and not Duo? Was he feeling guilt because he still loved Duo even through everything that had happened? Or was it because he didn't want to think about what had happened?

"Why did this have to happen, Quatre? Will you at least answer me that?" He waited, breath held in anticipation. But moments passed in still silence, and Heero knew that Quatre wouldn't wake just because he willed him to. Quatre might not ever wake.

What would he do if that happened? Would he still love Duo?

He didn't want to answer himself.

He brushed Quatre's limp bangs away from his face. He stared at Quatre's pale, lifeless face. There were dark circles around his closed eyes, if Heero hadn't known better, he would've said that Quatre had been in a fight. The reminder of what had been done, though stood out in stark contrast from the clammy skin. Heero looked away, studying instead the blanket covering Quatre's feet.

He didn't want to face what Duo had done.

______________________________

As Trowa walked back to Quatre's room, he thought of how things could have been.

"Fucking pieces of pig shit!" Trowa growled at the car in front of him as he hunched over the steering wheel.

"Trowa, it's okay. Don't worry about it." Quatre placed his hand on Trowa's tense arm. Trowa gritted his teeth, angry that the car had so rudely cut him off -- in the snowstorm -- and then proceeded to flip him off. But his anger quickly dissipated as Quatre smoothly curled up against his side. He flicked a glance at Quatre's face, a soft hue of green from the radio lights. He smiled to himself as he turned his attention back to the snowy road ahead of him. He knew that nothing else mattered out in the real world. True, he had to acknowledge the real world, he had to function in it, struggle to survive, but it truly didn't matter, for he had everything he wanted curled up against his side. After all, Quatre loved him for him, did he not? And that was worth all the tea in China. He giggled at the old cliché and felt Quatre shift to glance up at him.

"What's so funny?" Quatre asked. Trowa shook his head halfheartedly.

"Nothing." Quatre snuggled back against him. "Just thinking that you were worth all of the tea in China, and how appropriate that was to you." Quatre snorted softly, a mere exhalation of air.

"Just because I like tea?" Trowa could hear the humor in Quatre's voice.

"Yeah. Because I sometimes think that you are tea." He could feel Quatre's attempt to stifle his laughter.

"I'm not what I drink, thank you very much." Quatre sounded indignant. "Anyway, the saying goes that you are what you eat. Eat, not drink." Trowa laughed at the correction.

"Well, I like tea, so I don't think we have a problem either way." Quatre remained silent for a moment.

"Yeah. I think I like you, too. Although you have a funny way of showing it." Trowa turned into a parking lot, waiting until he had placed the car into park before wrapping an arm around Quatre's shoulders.

"We're here." Quatre nodded.

"I could tell, Sherlock." Quatre deadpanned.

"Hardy har har. You're so original." Trowa returned.

"At least I haven't called you tea." They climbed out of the car and made their way into the restaurant. "Anyway, what about the tea in England? Or India? Japan? You just said China. There's tea elsewhere too, you know." Trowa had to laugh.

"You're worth more to me than all of the tea in the entire known universe." Trowa bowed with exaggeration as Quatre crossed his arms, playing along.

"Just tea?" Trowa shook his head at Quatre's raised eyebrow. He stepped up to Quatre, sliding his hands up Quatre's arms and around his shoulders, pulling Quatre close.

"You are worth more to me than life itself." He swam in the silence, knowing that once again, he had said more than the right thing. He watched as Quatre tried to swipe inconspicuously at his eyes. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Quatre's temple. "I love you." Quatre nodded under his lips before brokenly whispering.

"I love you, too."

Trowa brushed sweaty bangs from Quatre's forehead, smiling in post-coital haze. Quatre's eyelids fluttered, trying in vain to stay open. Quatre snuggled closer to Trowa and he wrapped his arms tighter around Quatre's pliant body. Quatre finally relinquished the fight to keep his eyes open, smiling instead and whispering words of love into Trowa's chest.

"I love you, too, Quatre." I always have and I always will, he thought as he watched Quatre's breathing even out. Trowa felt as though he was floating, eventhough he could feel the sheets draped over him, and the mattress under his back. He always floated after sex with Quatre. He was always light as a feather, always high after sharing intense emotional moments with Quatre. He loved Quatre with all of his heart, and he knew, in his heart, in his mind, and in his soul, that Quatre shared the same love in return. He couldn't imagine a time when they hadn't shared that love, loving each other before they recognized that love.

True love. The kind of love that every one dreamed of, whether they admitted it or not. He and Quatre shared the kind of love that people searched a lifetime for.

And they were lucky enough to find each other.

He pressed a kiss to Quatre's forehead, sure in his heart that Quatre would always be there, would always love him. He knew that he would hold Quatre forever. And in this contentment, he fell asleep, confident that they would share their love for ages.

But, as Trowa walked down the sterile halls of the hospital, the smell of antiseptic and the endless cold chatter of life-monitoring machines dragging him away from his daydreams, he realized that he had been too late. True, if Quatre woke up they could probably continue on, and perhaps his dreams would come true, but who was to say that Quatre would even wake up? And who was to say that his dreams would ever become reality?

He trudged down the white halls which tried so hard to not be white. He tried to take his mind off of his sorrow by examining the color, or lack thereof, of the halls. They were a form of white, but it was still blinding, and still sterile. And no matter if the halls had been green or blue or anything but the infernal white, Trowa would still have disliked the hospital feel. It wasn't the white -- it had never been the white -- it had always been the situation. He wouldn't have been here if…

If what? If he hadn't left Quatre the first time? If he hadn't left Quatre alone? If Quatre hadn't taken drugs? What? At what point did this point in time become set in stone? At what point could he have prevented this tragic chain of events?

He stopped in front of Quatre's door, a thousand doubts and fears whipping around in his head, but only one surety -- love. No matter what happened, he had found his true love, and he refused to let him go. He pushed the door open and moved to his position beside Quatre's still form. He slipped his hand under Quatre's cold one, and told Quatre his dream.