Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Family Ties ❯ Chapter 14 ( Chapter 14 )

A/N Same warnings apply as the last chapter.

Attempted Rape. Rating is up to R for this chapter.

Don't like it, or are too young, you've been warned.

-zzzz

Weissangel24

 

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Chapter Fourteen

 

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A.C. 195 Earth Somewhere in Russia

 

Trowa frowned as he fired four rapid shots into the throats of four OZ soldiers. Glancing at the homing device on his watch, as he stepped of the withing forms fo dying gaurds drowning in their own gurgling blood.

 

"Almost there, Quat. . ." He breathed, turning the final corner, delivering two bullets to two brains.

 

With a deafening BANG, the banged pilot kicked the door open, doing a room sweep with his weapon.

 

The first thing Trowa noted was that the ceiling light was buzzing, sending sparks as it flickered on and off. Gunsmoke lingered in the air laying tribute to the dead man that lay in a growing puddle of blood. The banged boy felt a stabbing fear oand dread pierce his heart.

 

The man wasn't wearing any pants.

 

Swallowing the unfamiliar emotion, he sweeept the room for. . . "Quatre!" He gasped, rushing to the boy's side. Kneeling next to him, the banged pilot took in the other's condition.

 

The smaller boy was huddled in the corner, hugging his knees close to his shaking body. His bottom lip was swollen and bloody; the fress liquid glistening against the ugly purple bruise that covered his pale face.

The boy's usually pristine shirt was shredded til the remnants scarcly offered any covering at all. His pants were in no better shape. Other bruises screamed out from his bare arms and legs. His hair was matted and dirty, caked with blood. His eye. . .

 

"Oh, God. . ." Trowa shook his head in denial as he took in his friend's expression.

 

The blonde's eyes. . . usually full of life, love and joy. . . were dead. Locked into staring at nothing.

 

"Quatre?" He whispered, hesitantly, reaching out and gently touching the blonde's shoulder. "Quatre, please look at me?"

 

"I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . ." the boy's raw voice whispered repeatedly, his life-less expression never changing.

 

"Quater, come on. . . we have to get out of here. . ." the banged boy coaxed.

 

"I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . ."

 

"Quatre. . . Pleasee. . . It's me. Trowa. . . Won't you look at me? Won't you see me?" Trowa pleaded.

 

The mantra of apologies went silent as twin tracks of tears streaked down pale cheeks.

 

"Quatre. . .?"

 

"T-Trowa. . .?" Came the quiet whimper.

 

"I'm here, Quat. . . you're safe." the banged pilot whispered reasuringly as he gathered the smaller boy in his arms and held him close.

 

"I wasn't trained enough. . . I. . . I wasn't. . ."

 

"No, Quat. . . No. . ."

 

"Not strong. . . not strong enough. . . It's my-"

 

"DON'T, Quatre!" Trowa snapped a bit harsher then he meant to, causing the smaller boy to cringe. "Don't blame yourself. . ." He continued gentler, "This. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

 

"I. . . I. . ."

 

"Come on, Quatre. . . Let's get out of here. . ."

 

"Is. . . Is he dead?"

 

"Yes."

 

"I did it. . . I killed him. . ."

 

"He can't hurt you." The banged boy tried to reasure.

 

"I. . . I've never. . . killed anyone . . . outside of my gundam. . . before. . ." The boy whispered, much to Trowa's surprise and horror. "It. . . it feels. . . darker. . . stronger. . . then when I can't see them. . ."

 

"You feel them die?" Trowa felt sick with that realization. "Oh, Quat. . ." he sighed, holding the blonde tighter against him, "I'm sorry. . ."

 

"He wouldn't believe me . . . when I told him that I'd kill him. . . He just. . . Just kept trying. . ."

 

"He can't hurt you anymore, Quatre." Trowa said gently. "He can't touch you."

 

"I know." The boy replied, his speech becoming clearer. "He got so mad, Trowa. . . almost in a rage. . . But I fought. I fought until I killed him. . . and now he's dead." The boy's tone became angry. "He had no right."

 

"No, Quat. He didn't."

 

"I didn't let him."

 

"What?"

 

"I didn't let him touch me. . . that's why he got so mad. . . Why he hit me. . . I fought everytime he tried something. . . I killed him before he could."

 

"Quatre. . ." Trowa asked, holding the battered boy away from him, so that their eyes could meet. "I'm sorry, but I need to know. . . were you raped?"

 

"Didn't you hear me, Trowa?" The blonde shook his head, "He had no right. It wasn't his to take and I didn't let him. I killed the Son-of-a-Bitch."

 

". . .!" The banged boy felt a wave of relief wash over him as he pulled the smaller boy close to him in a tight hug. "I'm glad."

 

Grimmacing in pain, Quatre pushed away.

 

"Sorry." The boy flushed slightly. "Can you stand?"

 

"I think so." The blonde nodded as the other pilot helped him to his feet and taking the gun that Trowa silently held out to him.

 

"You're bleeding." Trowa frowned, kneeling down and pulling away the boy's blood soaked shirt.

 

Startled, the smaller boy looked down at his side, "Huh. I didn't notice. . . must have happened when we were wrestling for the gun. . ." Intrieged, Quatre probbed the wound with his finger.

 

"Don't make it worse!" Trowa chided, catching the boy's hand and stilling it. "You'll make it get infected."

 

"It's not deep." Quatre blushed slightly when he realized that the taller boy still held his hand. "How are we getting out of here?"

 

"I have a motorcycle half a mile into the woods. Do you think-"

 

"I'll make it." Quatre said with determination, squeezing the hand that Trowa still held. He smiled as the taller boy blushed deeply as he dropped the hand.

 

"Sorry." He mumbled uncomfortably.

 

"I'm not." Quatre grinned, as widely as his split lip would allow. "Besides. . . It's not like I didn't know you had an attraction to me, Trowa." He teased. "You've already kissed me."

 

"Attraction. . .?" The banged boy frowned, confused and hurt, ". . . Is that. . . Is that what you think I feel? Only an attraction?"

 

The blonde raised an eyebrow at his taller friend. With a faint smile, he opened his mouth to reply. However, his words were cut off by the echoing sound of military boots. "We need to leave or we'll be trapped." Quatre stated earnestly. "I won't stay here again, Trowa." He shuddered. "I can't."

 

"Then what are we waiting for?" Trowa asked, offering the smaller boy his hand. "Let's go."

 

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AC 198 Earth, One of Quatre's estates

 

Quatre opened his eyes slowly. Tilting his head to the side, he could see his Koi hunched over in his chair, next to him, his hand tightly held in the other's. A small smile crossed the pale boy's face as a tiny snore escaped from the taller boy.

 

Sighing, his thoughts drifted. He could just barely remember what he had dreamed. Dreamed? More like relived.

 

He shuddered involuntarily.

 

He didn't ever want to remember what happened in that cell, or to that officer. In truth, he didn't want to admit what had happened. What nearly had happened. True, he wasn't "Raped", but it was far worse then he allowed Trowa to believe.

 

"You okay?"

 

"Trowa!" the blonde gasped, his train of thought interupted. "I-I thought you were asleep. . ."

 

"I was just dozing. . ."

 

"Hn. . ."

 

"You didn't answer my question." Trowa whispered, moving to sit beside the blonde, brushing back some of the boy's hair, "Are you okay?"

 

"Just a bad dream. . ."

 

"You too?" The banged boy frowned slightly, "What was yours about?"

 

"It was nothing. . .What do you mean, 'You too?'"

 

Trowa looked away, down at an old coffee stain that marred the creamy perfection of the carpet. "Just forgotten memories rearing their ugly heads. . ."

 

"You dreamt about the base in Russia, didn't you." Quatre stated quietly.

 

"Yes." The banged boy glanced at the blonde. "You?"

 

". . ."

 

". . .Right. . . I know you don't want to talk about it. . . and that's fine, but if we're sharing memories at the same time. . ."

 

"Coincidence." Quatre shrugged.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

". . ."

 

"Quatre. . . could you be experiencing someone else's memories when you black out?"

 

"I think you have to be telepathic for that to happen." Quatre dismissed. "I'm not."

 

"What about the other person?"

 

"Maybe. . . but that wouldn't explain us sharing memories." The blonde pointed out. "You're not telepathic."

 

". . . "

 

"Don't look so worried, Trowa!" The boy smiled, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his Koi. "Coincedence."

 

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To be continued. . .