Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wilderness ❯ A Knight needing rescue ( Chapter 6 )

 

Wilderness

By Dentelle_Noir

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, duh. Don't you find this as redundant as I? I hope so.

 

Warning: Eventual yaoi. Man bashing.

 

NOTE: I'm giving Wilderness a bit of a re-haul and edit! Mostly from the middle on arethe larger changes, but the earlier chapters have more format and minor wording changes. Look for new chapters soon, though!

 

 

 

Chapter Six: A Knight Needing Rescuing

 

 

Strapped so tightly in his lifejacket that he felt like a stuffed sausage and still not over the shivers from earlier, he practically pouted having to get back into the damn raft after lunch and fishing, which thankfully no one made him participate in since he was almost blue. He hated the cold. And cold water was the worst. What he wouldn't give for a freaking Jacuzzi.

 

At least Wufei was back. He had just up and left for almost three hours. Quatre was wondering if he'd be back before they were supposed to leave. Or would they leave without him? But fortunately Wufei came back just in time to throw on a life jacket and climb in the boat. Although Quatre wished he wouldn't be still brooding as he was. But he was kinda glad, because Jerry was going out of his way to be as far away from Wufei as he possibly could.

 

It was starting to get colder as the day wore on. They had paddled, had an hour break that Wufei ditched again, and then paddled some more, Quatre was glad to know they would be at that night's take-out (the boat take out point, not drive-through food take-out, which Milly had to disbelievingly state to somone) within another fifteen or twenty minutes paddling at their crawl down the rather calm river.

 

"What the hell?" Quatre just caught Milly's mumble under his breath because of how close they were, and he tried to follow his gaze. But all he spotted was a clearing on the other side of the river.

 

What Milly was looking at was NOT the spot they were aiming for, that spot was visible just a ways upstream, and he desperately wanted to go there and sleep!

 

"Ferry positions!" Milly shouted out and began to steer the ship sideways to fight the current and cross the river without moving downstream any closer to the original destination. But like the little worker ant he was, Quatre followed orders and together the raft made its way to the small clearing across the way. Quatre couldn't even figure out what had Milly going all the way over there.

 

Then he saw, and paddled with actual effort.

 

There in the clearing lay someone. Their body was just sprawled across the ground, clothes almost blending in with the trees and dirt. Quatre hadn't distinguished the person for the trees at first. It was a good thing Milly had better eyes.

 

Even closer, the raft almost on shore, Quatre could make out that it was a male by the broad width of the shoulders. He was prone as if he had been walking then just fell face first into the dirt. Just like that.

 

Milly was the first out of the boat. He surprised everyone when he just vaulted over the side, the river splashing up around his calves as he barreled to the mainland, leaving the docking to the strokemaster and the rest of the group as he bolted for the boy.

 

Anxious to see, the entire boat flooded out into the clearing, Quatre as well, so caught up with concern he didn't even think twice about getting over the edge of the raft that had nearly drown him earlier.

 

With only 8 people in the boat to begin with, it was easy to get a view of the situation. Milly had just turned over the boy and Quatre got a good look.

 

The boy's cinnamon hair was long, and tangled, flying everywhere, it seemed. He had a strong angular face, nose defined and classic and his mostly concealed neck and shoulders looked strong and lean. Hell the boy was lean. He had broad strong arms and a probably well-muscled chest, with thin, lean, masculine hips tapering into long athletic legs. The man was, for a short description, incredibly handsome. The only thing marring the perfect face was a long gash right above his eyes that looked quite horrible with some of the dust and dried blood all around it and some of the brown flakes matting his hair together.

 

Milly gave him a shake and open flew his eyes, wide beautiful eyes as green as the forest, that flurried around the area and group compltly confused. Then they set on Milly, face inches away because of the abrupt sitting the boy had done. Narrowing, the boy's eyes hardened and his liquid posture stiffened.

 

The boy furled his fist and with one motion planted it directly into the one not-bruised cheek Milly had left and sent him flying to the side and off the boy. "What were you doing Zechs!" The boys voice was strained and sore sounding, Quatre figured that he'd been through hell and back just by looking at him. He also saw that the boy's long hair was actually a long bang; the hair in the back was cut very short, only the front being long and flowing.

 

"Damn it, Trowa!" Milly groused rubbing the new bruise forming on his other cheek. “See If I come over and save your ass next time I see you sprawled out in the middle of nowhere, you ungrateful bastard."

 

It was then that the boy seemed to look around and take in his surroundings, eyeing the tourist group and the river landmarks, then around himself, looking for something.

 

"Where's my pack." He said quietly to himself, his voice beginning to lose the scratchy edge and taking on a deep resonating timbre.

 

Obviously not finding his pack directly around him, he shot up, only to have the world spin around him and start to sag at the hip, his body limply sliding towards the ground much too quickly than he could recover.

 

Quatre was the very closest to him and without thinking he reached out, getting a hold of the man's shoulders and trying to slow his fall. There was no way he could hold the heavy man; Heck, he was at least a foot taller than Quatre was and Quatre could easily be nestled into his chest. That thought brought a slight blush that Quatre fought as he lowered himself to his knees and rested the boy back on the ground.

 

"Spread out!" Milly commanded the group, "Don't go more than five minutes into the forest then come straight out. We're looking for his pack." Milly ordered and pointed groups to go in certain directions. In seconds the clearing was empty save Quatre and the unconscious boy. Milly didn't tell him to go. Probably because he wasn't standing up at the time.

 

Forest green eyes opened, slower this time, and spanned slowly around, much more trusting then the last time, and he raised his chin to look directly into Quatre's blue eyes. "Thanks for catching me. I'm Trowa by the way. Trowa Barton."

 

"Quatre Winner." Quatre introduced, mentally adding that he could fall into his arms anytime he felt like it. Especially looking that good. Hell, even with blood all over the top corner of his face he was damn hot.

 

Milly was the first to come back in the clearing. With the sound, Trowa seemed to snap into a more assertive stance, his eyes loosing the softness they held earlier in a split second. "No sign of your pack, Tro. You're one day into the main river."

 

The boy seemed to pale and sat himself up alone. Quatre missed the warmth. Selfishly he hoped he'd have another dizzy spell.

 

"That's a four day hike from where I'm supposed to be." He deadpanned resolutely, already calculating how to get there from where he was.

 

"The river's much faster." Milly drawled as if he was a dimwit for not knowing.

 

"Do I look like I have a canoe in my back pocket?" Trowa responded dryly, eyes cold. "I'm a full day raft ride from my station where I could at least contact my group."

 

'That's where we're heading anyway. Piggy-back with the group. We're stopping at the take-out a mile from here and putting in for the night, but tomorrow we're going to raft it straight to the station. I'm sure you could get there faster paddling alone and not having to deal with vacationers, but it's a free ride and quicker than hiking it. You'd never get across the river, for one, and you'll get a free meal out of it. Looking like that, I'd also figure you need the rest. You look like shit." Milly bent down and caught Trowa's eyes straight on.

 

Knowing he did need the help. Trowa grudgingly accepted with a nod. His head pounded, and every single muscle in is body protested against any movement. At least his vision was stable now and he didn't feel nauseous. But the prospect of having to walk all the way to the station was undoable in his condition. Plus, it was almost dark and he'd have to stop for the night, anyway, seeing as he didn't have a flashlight or any of his hiking gear. No pack meant he had nothing save the clothes on his back, the climbing boots on his feet (Thankfully) and the gloves, chalk, and D ring's hanging of his belt. At least when he separated from his group he stayed mostly in his paddling gear.

 

Hearing the telltale sounds of noisy vacationers back from the forest without his pack, Trowa pulled out of his musings and decided he'd better make himself somewhat presentable. Shifting up onto wobbly legs, the boy, Quatre, his mind supplied, jumped up behind him and followed. Trowa made his way to the edge of the water and knelt down as gracefully as his abused body would let him, which turned out to be something just short of a flop. Peering into the water he knew Zechs was right. He did look like shit.

 

Dipping his hands (fingerless leather climbing gloves included) into the freezing river, he cupped some of the liquid and brought it to his blood covered forehead, rinsing away the brown mess and bringing a new throbbing pain to the wound. After letting a breath calm the waves of hurt, he repeated it again. Fuck, it hurt, but he was more determined to get it cleaned that to let the pain stop him. Pain was nothing new to him. He lived to overcome it.

 

Quatre left the boy to his own for a few minutes; he looked like he needed it, and he seemed in a lot of pain over the injury. But Quatre could tell just by watching the boy's grit he would not want help and he didn't want Quatre coddling him.

 

Most of the group had made their way back now, all obviously empty handed, if they would have found it, they would've yelled. Most of the group collected around Milly and the crew, listening to their plans.

 

"Sure he can make it to the ranger station on his own power? I mean, he looks pretty beat up and as frail as a leaf." one of the crew that Quatre had never learned the name of asked.

 

"Oh, hell yeah. Give Trowa a few minutes and you'll never know anything happened to him. I've seen him climb with a broken ankle and two broken ribs. Believe me. He'll pull his own weight even if we tell him not to." Milly said with finality.

 

"Why don't we just call the ranger to come and pick him up?" One of the vacationers asked, "I mean, he's got a head injury, it's supposed to be a good idea to keep them resting and stuff until they get to a doctor."

 

Milly cracked a smile and took a glance over his shoulder to Trowa, washing the last of his face. "Take a look at his jacket." The group turned to see. Trowa's jacket was deep forest green trimmed in browns and blacks, except the bright yellow letters sprawled across the back. "He is the forest ranger around here." And as said, the bright yellow said quite blatantly, "Forest Ranger".

 

Trowa took the end of the conversation as the perfect time to prove to them just how determined he really was. Hell, Zechs didn't even realize the climb he was talking about he also had a concussion. Satisfied he was cleaned, the wound and his hair now clear of the dried blood, and his bangs covering the gash, Trowa stood up, forcing his legs still with his determination and turned towards the group.

 

Slowly, but surly he walked towards the group, head held high, eyes emotionless and step strong. He stopped at the group and waited quietly for Zechs to smile and give the command. "To the boat."

 

 

 

The raft pulled into the takeout point about fifteen minutes later, everyone scrambling out. Trowa felt leagues better though. Since he had no paddle, he was forced to sit with the supplies and just feel the familiar lull of the river. The nice rest was something he really needed, even if he didn't want to admit it. By the time they were going out, he felt much better and didn't even have to think about steadying himself or trying to be graceful. He didn't feel like he had rolled himself off the back of a speeding jeep, untied himself and ran as far as he could away before making I tot the beach and collapsing. His muscles felt better, still a little stiff, but nothing too bad and he was able to vault off the side of the boat just like the rest of the crew and Wufei could. He knew he was getting a free ride off the tour group, so the best he could do was help out. He had been a guide last summer and knew what needed to be done.

 

Taking his station, he let the tourists grip onto his arm and helped a few out, just stabilizing them enough to climb on their own. The other guides didn't bother, saying it was coddling them. He though it was just being a gentleman.

 

Than the blonde came to the edge, nervously looking and almost avoiding it as much as he could. Trowa couldn't help but be eager to help him out. He couldn't help it if he wasn't blind. The guy was sinfully cute and he hadn't had a boyfriend for four months. Perhaps it was a little wrong seeing as the boy looked no older than sixteen. But hey, he himself was 18. He still wouldn't hit on the boy or anything; he never flirted unless he really meant it. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of a superficial crush. He was really cute.

 

"These things are pretty stable,” he said teasingly, “You won't fall off." Trowa finally said, the blonde still not coming off the boat.

 

"I already have." Quatre cut rather mercilessly, "I went quite far down river and almost got raked across a rock fan just this morning after being pushed." He pointed out testily.

 

Trowa had to reconsider. The boy had more spine than he initially suspected.

 

Extending his hand further, Trowa invited him to grab on and jump down. He was the last in the boat anyway, and Trowa couldn't leave knowing the boy was stuck until he gathered enough courage to get out himself. By then, it might be night. "Best way to overcome is to do. If you don't do it now, it'll just get worse. I promise I won't let you fall in." Trowa eyes him sincerely and caught the boys pale hand.

 

Biting his lip and fighting the blush, Quatre nodded and took the jump into the shallow water. Trowa was there, hand still in his, and didn't move when he went in. So when Quatre lost his footing, his clumsiness catching up to him like he knew it would, he fell right into Trowa's chest.

 

Yep, he had been right, Trowa's chest alone was wide enough that he could fit in, arms and all. He was practically curled into him, his hands had gone out to brake his fall and now lay against the boy's firm chest. Now he would punch him for clinging like he was. Stupid instinct to cling!

 

But instead of a hard punch, he felt a rumble, then a shake. Then Trowa was chuckling, his whole body trembling from the force of the laugh.

 

A little undignified, Quatre let go and stood on his own taking the two steps onto terra firma on his own and knowing full well he would be the butt of jokes again tonight. Yeah him. Now the group had someone else to tell them stories of how clumsy and stupid he was.