Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wilderness ❯ Cat and Mouse ( Chapter 19 )

 

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.

 

Summary: AU. 3x4. Stuck on a Wilderness vacation, Father `toughening him up', a deadly coincidence brings a forest ranger and the trouble following him, into their group. Quatre will have to prove to everyone just what the nancy-boy can do.

 

 

 

Chapter 19: Cat and Mouse

 

Quatre was able to catch up to Wufei's pace quickly. The adrenaline high from that jump was not totally gone and it kicked back into gear with the first few footfalls.

 

They were dodging in and out of the brush, swerving and turning.

 

They had broken off when Alex and Muller touched ground right behind them. The plan was the best Heero could come up with: if they split up, their pursuers had less chance of catching them and the bat.

 

After about ten minutes of exhausting their energy supply, Wufei and Quatre began to slow. The drag of gravity pulled harder and air was so much more of a commodity when running for one's life. If they stopped, though, they'd never start again.

 

“I don't think we're being followed now. We have to get our bearings. Where were the boats docked?” Quatre asked, slowing to a gentle trot and making Wufei match him.

 

“At a beach right after the high cliffs. It's not the smoothest take out, but it works. That's where the boats are. And we arrre…” Wufei began to see the flaw in the hastily drawn up plan. Lots of running equaled lots of twists and turns. Wufei was lost.

 

Yeah. Had to group with `those who knew where the boats were', great idea. Thank God Quatre could hold his own.

 

“The water is this way.” Quatre pointed out. He had been sure to remember to keep the river location in the back of his mind. He couldn't keep track of what turns they made or where, but he kept his justification at least.

 

“Are you sure…”

 

“Yes.” Quatre replied bluntly.

 

“Onward ho.” Wufei said, moving in the direction of Quatre's still outstretch finger with as much vigor as he could muster.

 

Quatre blazed, moving branches, stepping over gopher holes and plowing over fallen branches and brush. It was hard work, and they got snagged far too many times to count. They moved so fast, a snail passed them and they couldn't catch the license plate.

 

Finally, they reached a game trail, the winding path between trees rough and hard, but almost recognizable as a route. Whoever said the path of least resistance was less fruitful never had screaming legs, pounding ears, and exhausted lungs. They took to the trail quickly once they found it headed approximately the same direction they needed.

 

“You and Trowa seemed to be getting along well. Are you sure you don't have his tonsils still?” Wufei teased off handed once they had both gotten their breath under minimal control and were making tracks towards the boats as quick as their exhaustion would let them.

 

Quatre turned four shades short of neon pink and found a burst of energy to propel him away from Wufei's smirk. “So did you and Treize, if I remember correctly.” Quatre shot back.

 

Wufei matched Quatre's color in record time. With a triumphant smirk, Quatre punched Wufei's arm heartily. “You don't honestly doubt his feelings for you, do you? It's obvious to blind people he's crazy about you. And you two work so well together.”

 

Wufei snorted, “No. It seems silly to think he'd be with Une. I just haven't seen him for a while, he works as a Trial Guide and Ranger here all summer, and then I saw that and I just… I don't know…”

 

“Blew things out of proportions?” Quatre supplied, enjoying the turn for the better in his friends attitude.

 

“I do NOT blow things out of proportion. I may have come to incorrect initial conclusions, but I don't blow things out of proportion.” Wufei snarled back, flinging the rogue hair from his proud face, still flushed slightly.

 

Right, Treize had said Wufei had incurable pride. “Sure you don't `Fei. Sure. Let's just get to the canoes and get the hell outa dodge.” Quatre blew out, his whole head dead tired but he knew they still had a rough paddle ahead and no time to dawdle.

 

Wufei slowed, almost to a stop and starred at Quatre, blinking myopically, “Did you, Quatre Winner, just conversationally swear? Or am I just hallucinating?”

 

Quatre turned and stuck his tongue out, and spat out “We're almost there, loser.”

 

A pinecone connected with Quatre's head and bounced off harmlessly to the ground.

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“Heero, I don't feel so good.” Duo moaned, pressed deep into Heero's shoulder and feeling all the bounces and jangles as his boyfriend ran all out. Heero had Duo in a bridal carry, and across the uneven, danger-riddled, muddy forest floor, Duo felt each twitch. With another stomach pitching lurch, Duo cursed the gophers again.

 

“We're almost there, Shini.” Heero replied for the hundredth time. He was listening carefully to his lover until his voice gave that last warning signal that he was really going to puke and not just whine about it before Heero would stop. Heero knew Alex had taken flight after he and Duo. It was a hard chase, and with Duo's arm broken and his wits not all back together yet, Duo couldn't run like the others. Heero had hauled Duo up and sprinted and second he had let go of lover-boy-Trowa's collar and sent him in a separate direction.

 

Alex must've seen the flashing neon `easy prey' sign that was attached to Duo's head from a mile away, because he was all over them like peanut butter on toast.

 

Heero proved even smarter than the bag of nails that Alex lost to in trivia pursuit when he jumped a ditch and turned back to circle around, watching with baited breath from a rather thick shrubbery as the dumbass went right on by.

 

They all knew Alex had the Devil's luck, but it seemed that it ran thin this time.

 

But Heero wasn't taking any chances, and he continued towards the boats still too quickly for Duo's stomach to stop its protestations

_________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________

 

The damn rat with wings was shrieking like a fire engine, broadcasting his location to an eight mile radius.

 

Trowa cursed all flying rodent wildlife again as he caught the tell-tale crunch of pursuit behind him. Whoever was so close he could practically feel breath down his back. Although, he knew whomever really was far enough away that they hadn't been able to get a visual on him, or he'd be dead with a bullet hole by now.

 

He dashed through another thick bramble of brush and slammed into a wall of rock. It was another cave.

 

Trowa ducked inside and took to the wall. Be hoped to hell for a little luck, he needed enough time to at least silence the bat before he could move and the cave was his best and last hope.

 

Ready since the last incident, Trowa pulled out the syringe he had in his wallet sized medical kit, already loaded with the bat tranquilizers and full enough for one shot.

 

Holding the cage steady with his thighs as he crouched over it, he wrenched open the door to grab the flailing, screeching, bitch and slammed that sharp little needle into her stomach and compressed the stopper.

 

He shoved the bat back in with all the displeasure she was evoking in him. Slamming the cage door closed again, the thing still screaming (it took a few minutes for the tranqs to work) Trowa got back up and continued to run through the cave, figuring the cave came out close to the canoes. That was, if he was in the cave he thought he was in, anyway.

 

It was no surprise when Trowa heard the echoing pound of feet chasing him. Securing the cage to be as motionless as he could, (He'd hate to see the bat fall asleep and be flung and banged off the bars in her cage and die, therefore defeating the purpose of this whole expedition and making it cream of bat soup material) he sprung off the rock floor and moved as quietly as he could into the shadows.

 

A few minutes later Trowa flung himself out into the light of the forest, bounding into the tree line without a fire engine beacon and flew over the terrain towards the canoes, his friends, and hopefully away from the tragic trio.

_________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________

 

Leaning up against a thick tree, about 60 years old, his brain supplied, Treize panted out his numbing pain and exhaustion. He was gasping for breath and needing just a touch more from his body; just enough to get to the canoes.

 

Thankful for no pursuit, Treize gulped another greedy mouthful of air and pushed himself away from the tree, leaving a red smear on its majestic bark. He stumbled on, eyes set towards the beach and using every ounce of energy and grit he had just to keep moving. One foot in front of the other was making him tremble in effort. But he could hear the river and smell the wetness just beyond his location. If he could just make it there on his own, he would be fine.

_________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________

 

Duo felt his lover slow, then set him to the ground, careful of his broken arm. They were the first to arrive.

 

Heero, mouth grim, surveyed the beach.

 

“What `Ro?” Duo's voice trembled. He couldn't see much from his location, but his boyfriend looked disappointed. And when Heero Yuy physically displayed something other than anger, something was very wrong.

 

Heero turned to his love and nodded curtly to try and reassure him. Then Duo was positive something really, really bad happened.

 

“The boats are slashed.” Heero deadpanned.

 

The wreckage was strewn all over the beach. Their two canoes were flipped upside down and gaping holes and vicious scars criss-crossed the sides. The boats were unusable without a doubt.

 

Their gear peppered the beach, small pieces of this and that ripped or broken mixed in with the sand and if the red flailing piece of material snagged to a tree branch was the remnants of Heero and Duo's sleeping bag, as Duo figured it was probably shredded too. Their gear was flung even into the brush. Their med supplies were strewn about the beach, a syringe sticking out of the sand and clothes and food packs were littering the beach like an inner-city park. It was disgusting to see the beauty of the wilderness turned to a garbage dump.

 

The snap of a twig was all the warning they got and Heero produced his pistol and aimed.

 

Thankfully Heero's logic won over his shock at seeing the disaster long enough to tell him this was the meeting spot for his group, and the sound was probably a friend.

 

When Trowa slammed into the sun from the darkness of the foliage he stopped so fast that his body rocked with the propulsion. Heero smirked; Trowa always had run far too fast in his opinion (anyone who could beat Heero in a race was just too fast, of course).

 

After Trowa realized he had made his destination so quickly and took a lightning visual of the area he flicked his eyes to Heero. “What's salvageable?” Trowa asked.

 

Heero snapped completely back to himself and replied, “Still verifying. The canoes are useless. Gear: questionable.” Curt and too the point. It would've been rude to say to anyone else, but Trowa just grunted and began to pick up the litter, checking it and throwing the useless towards the broken canoes, keeping an ever-growing pile of the simply displaced in his arms.

 

Heero found the dumping ground of all their packs, sans gear of course but surprisingly not slashed, and threw one of the empty shells to Trowa to deposit his keep in.

 

Duo used his good arm to claw at the tree trunk, hauling himself up onto his wobbly legs. He wasn't paralyzed after all, and the piercing, throbbing, incapacitating pain that emanated from his untreated broken arm had numbed during his non-jostled rest. As long as Duo didn't move his arm, he could walk. And in situations like these every little bit counted.

 

Deciding to move it the opposite direction of the others, Duo surveyed the beach and kicked and stooped to check the contents. He wasn't as tidy as Trowa and Heero and just left the useless bits of material where they lay instead of just moving them to a new spot where the wind would blow them back anyway. Duo was ready to give up and move towards Tro and `Ro since all that was on that part of the beach was wind-blown bits, when he spotted a miracle. Running towards what he saw he re-evaluated his choice of words: It was a miracle for them, but absolute stupidity on the part of the three stooges.

 

“Guys, You'll never believe what tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber did! Merry Christmas. We have ourselves some canoes!” he exclaimed loud enough for the boys to hear but not enough to echo.

 

Hands full and expressions disbelieving, Heero and Trowa catapulted over to the source for Duo's voice and their jaw's dropped.

 

There, lying hardly disguised under a few branches were Nichol's two canoes, paddles, and the secondary gear they had left inside. “Thank you, Santa” Trowa replied. He had somehow made peace with lady-luck and she was being benevolent today.

 

“Lets get these moved, get our gear in them, and sort while we wait for the others. I want to be on the water when the last person breaches the tree line.” Heero ordered, grabbing one end of the canoe while Trowa grabbed the other and together they hauled it to the water's edge.