Coalescence: Gundam Wing
Title: Coalescence
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Spoilers: Through episode 40 (disc eight)
Synopsis: Quatre has a very close relationship with Sandrock
Word count: 673
Rating: G
Note: Yes, I know it doesn't actually happen that way; consider it an AU.
The welder hissed and flared in Quatre’s hand. Five components down, thirty to go. Normally Quatre enjoyed taking care of Sandrock, but today he had to force himself to concentrate on his task. Even with the presence of Sandrock, Deathscythe, and the Taurus suit, the repair bay seemed cold and empty. The smell of hot metal, which was normally such a comfort, stirred up associations too vague to be called memories, but which made him feel uneasy. Clicking off the welder, he rattled the door to make sure it was still locked.
Duo, of course, would be heralded by a loud burst of chatter before he even touched the door, should he pop in to do some work on Deathscythe. But Trowa would come quietly, if he came at all. He had seemed better after his battle in the Taurus suit, but he was still terribly fragile. He’d retained the reflexes of a soldier and the faultlines that paid for them, but without the strength to compensate. Quatre had wanted to make sure Trowa wouldn’t walk in on some test that might startle him with a loud noise or sudden burst of light. On the other hand, maybe such a shock would free some memory of mind rather than muscle.
“I don’t know,” said Quatre, returning to his task. “He’s already fought, and that didn’t bring his memories back. Otherwise, I’d let him borrow you… You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
Image: Trowa showing Heero how to pilot Heavyarms.
“Really? When was that?”
Image: Trowa showing Heero how to pilot Heavyarms; datestamp added.
Not long after Heero had blown up Wing with himself inside. Quatre bit his lower lip. Trowa was a very kind and generous person. No doubt if Trowa had been around after Sandrock had self-detonated, he’d have offered to loan Heavyarms to Quatre.
“Where’d you get that from, anyway?”
Image: Heavyarms.
“Oh. Well, what do you think, Sandrock? Do you think it would help him if I let him pilot you?”
Image: Trowa stepping out of Heavyarms, hands up, face calm.
Memory flash: Quatre sensing Trowa’s cool intent of irony as he raised his hands; Quatre’s relief that he’d been right, the other boy was not an enemy; Quatre’s quick-rising hope that he could be a friend.
Image-with-sound: Trowa hauling crates of ammunition to Heavyarms; dolly wheels rattle over metal; bullets clink together; hard rhythmic breathing.
Quatre shut off the welder. After a moment, he took off his goggles. “You’re right. He needs his own Gundam back. But Trowa’s the only one who would know where he left it… Unless…You don’t still have a link to Heavyarms, do you?”
Image: Black.
Image: Quatre’s face, superimposed upon a star map.
Though Sandrock did not speak in words, Quatre knew it so well that he sometimes heard them anyway: That’s your job.
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Memory flash: Quatre losing himself in the murmur of the universe, listening without quite remembering why, until his instincts pulled him back, no longer a pulsar or a nebula, just a young pilot who knew something that he hadn’t known before…
“It’s too dangerous.”
Image: Trowa on his knees, arms wrapped around himself, shaking with fear and cold.
Quatre flung a picture back at Sandrock: Image: Trowa’s Vayeate taking the beam Quatre had meant for Heero.
“Sandrock- When outer space told me to kill everyone, it sounded just the same as it always has. It still sounds the same. How can I know when I shouldn’t listen?”
Image: Sandrock’s hatch opening by itself.
Image: Quatre dropping out.
Image: Quatre’s cupped hands contain the universe.
“All right.” Quatre wiped off his face, which was dripping with sweat or something, then rubbed his hands dry on his work pants. “I trust you to protect me. And if you can’t… I trust you to do whatever you have to do to stop me.”
He pressed his palms and cheek into Sandrock’s strong cool metal, and listened for the voice of the soul of outer space.
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Spoilers: Through episode 40 (disc eight)
Synopsis: Quatre has a very close relationship with Sandrock
Word count: 673
Rating: G
Note: Yes, I know it doesn't actually happen that way; consider it an AU.
The welder hissed and flared in Quatre’s hand. Five components down, thirty to go. Normally Quatre enjoyed taking care of Sandrock, but today he had to force himself to concentrate on his task. Even with the presence of Sandrock, Deathscythe, and the Taurus suit, the repair bay seemed cold and empty. The smell of hot metal, which was normally such a comfort, stirred up associations too vague to be called memories, but which made him feel uneasy. Clicking off the welder, he rattled the door to make sure it was still locked.
Duo, of course, would be heralded by a loud burst of chatter before he even touched the door, should he pop in to do some work on Deathscythe. But Trowa would come quietly, if he came at all. He had seemed better after his battle in the Taurus suit, but he was still terribly fragile. He’d retained the reflexes of a soldier and the faultlines that paid for them, but without the strength to compensate. Quatre had wanted to make sure Trowa wouldn’t walk in on some test that might startle him with a loud noise or sudden burst of light. On the other hand, maybe such a shock would free some memory of mind rather than muscle.
“I don’t know,” said Quatre, returning to his task. “He’s already fought, and that didn’t bring his memories back. Otherwise, I’d let him borrow you… You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
Image: Trowa showing Heero how to pilot Heavyarms.
“Really? When was that?”
Image: Trowa showing Heero how to pilot Heavyarms; datestamp added.
Not long after Heero had blown up Wing with himself inside. Quatre bit his lower lip. Trowa was a very kind and generous person. No doubt if Trowa had been around after Sandrock had self-detonated, he’d have offered to loan Heavyarms to Quatre.
“Where’d you get that from, anyway?”
Image: Heavyarms.
“Oh. Well, what do you think, Sandrock? Do you think it would help him if I let him pilot you?”
Image: Trowa stepping out of Heavyarms, hands up, face calm.
Memory flash: Quatre sensing Trowa’s cool intent of irony as he raised his hands; Quatre’s relief that he’d been right, the other boy was not an enemy; Quatre’s quick-rising hope that he could be a friend.
Image-with-sound: Trowa hauling crates of ammunition to Heavyarms; dolly wheels rattle over metal; bullets clink together; hard rhythmic breathing.
Quatre shut off the welder. After a moment, he took off his goggles. “You’re right. He needs his own Gundam back. But Trowa’s the only one who would know where he left it… Unless…You don’t still have a link to Heavyarms, do you?”
Image: Black.
Image: Quatre’s face, superimposed upon a star map.
Though Sandrock did not speak in words, Quatre knew it so well that he sometimes heard them anyway: That’s your job.
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Memory flash: Quatre losing himself in the murmur of the universe, listening without quite remembering why, until his instincts pulled him back, no longer a pulsar or a nebula, just a young pilot who knew something that he hadn’t known before…
“It’s too dangerous.”
Image: Trowa on his knees, arms wrapped around himself, shaking with fear and cold.
Quatre flung a picture back at Sandrock: Image: Trowa’s Vayeate taking the beam Quatre had meant for Heero.
“Sandrock- When outer space told me to kill everyone, it sounded just the same as it always has. It still sounds the same. How can I know when I shouldn’t listen?”
Image: Sandrock’s hatch opening by itself.
Image: Quatre dropping out.
Image: Quatre’s cupped hands contain the universe.
“All right.” Quatre wiped off his face, which was dripping with sweat or something, then rubbed his hands dry on his work pants. “I trust you to protect me. And if you can’t… I trust you to do whatever you have to do to stop me.”
He pressed his palms and cheek into Sandrock’s strong cool metal, and listened for the voice of the soul of outer space.