Whumping fic - 2/3
Swords of a Soldier
Rating: NC 17
Pairings: 2+4, OMCx4
Summary: Some battles are won and others are lost, but in a war the consequences are severe and not always honorable.
Warnings: Violence, graphic NCS/rape, torture, angst, language. This story explores dark topics; please don't read if you are offended by any of these subjects. Also Alternative Timeline and non-linear writing style.
Archive: Gundanium Line
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters used in this fic.
Notes: Written for the Whumped!Quatre Ficathon, filling Harvest Blue's request.
Thanks a lot to Anne for the beta and all the help and support while writing the fic.
___
Part Two
Sally covered Quatre with a blanket from the waist down. The pilot was lying on his stomach. She had bandaged the welts on his back but the weigh of the covers would hurt Quatre's torn skin. One of the other pilots could go find something for him to wear later, but right now, he was sleeping, and wouldn't care if he was naked under the sheets.
It was good that Quatre trusted her enough to tell her what kind of sedatives he hadn't built a resistance to. From what she had gathered, all the pilots had their defenses enhanced, making them resistant to many drugs. Thankfully, the sedative Quatre had recommended had worked.
After determining that Quatre didn't have a concussion, Sally had decided to sedate him before she started to treat him. It had been the right decision. Quatre had thanked her but it wasn't until she realized exactly what had happened to him that she understood why.
Looking at him one last time, Sally exited the infirmary, closing the door quietly behind her. She leaned on the door and took a big breath. There was no way she was going to face the pilots with tears in her eyes. After all the time in the militia, she had seen her share of injuries and death, and even though she had never grown used to it, she had become stronger. After examining Quatre and getting an idea of what he had gone through, Sally was having a hard time controlling her emotions.
The price of war was too high. Every time the pilots took off to fight for everyone, she was forced to see children going to war, while she stayed. She had just spent an hour patching Quatre up, knowing that the moment he was alright, he would go into battle again.
With one last deep breath, Sally walked down the hall and towards the small common room the pilots had appropriated for themselves. The door was closed, as usual, but she didn't stop to knock. The four boys were waiting for her inside. Duo had been lying on the couch, probably sleeping, since he had been on duty for nearly forty-eight hours. Heero and Trowa were sitting at the table, facing each other, and Wufei was leaning on the wall next to the couch.
Duo sat up when she closed the door behind her. The rest of the pilots didn't move from their spots, but they were all looking at her expectantly.
Sally walked to the center of the room, where she could see all the boys. "Quatre is resting now. I gave him a sedative to help with the pain. He's sleeping." Sally was a professional and she would report Quatre's condition efficiently. If she tried to distance herself with the patient she wouldn't let her emotions take over. "The worse injury is a bullet wound in his right calf. Thankfully it was only a graze. He doesn't have a concussion; his trauma was directed to his body, not so much to his head. His ribs are bruised but none of them are broken or fractured. There are multiple bruises, and welts on his ba--."
Duo interrupted her. "Welts?" There was no expression on Duo's face but his voice was a little broken.
"Quatre..." Duo's question had broken through her professional detachment, and now her voice was filled with the concern she had been determined not to show. "Quatre was tortured." She lowered her eyes. Not amount of professionalism could make her look the pilots when she delivered the next words. "And raped."
* * *
Trowa opened his eyes slowly when he heard a small noise. He stretched himself on the metal chair, already feeling his muscles cramp for sleeping in that uncomfortable position. He looked towards the bed where Quatre was resting, and saw him turning in his sleep.
The sedatives must have been wearing off. Trowa had been there for the last three hours, watching over Quatre. After dressing him in a pair of soft cotton pants, Trowa had sat on the bedside chair, and eventually had fallen asleep.
They had decided to take turns to watch over Quatre. Duo had been reluctant to leave Quatre's bedside but they had finally convinced him that he would be no use to Quatre if he was half asleep. Heero had taken the first watch. Quatre hadn't moved in the four hours Heero was with him. Trowa took the next, and it seemed that Quatre was ready to wake up.
Trowa watched Quatre closely, determined to wake him if he started to move too much. It wouldn't surprise him if it took a while for Quatre to control his nightmares. They all had them; they had seen too much to have a good night sleep.
A soft whimper escaped Quatre's lips. Trowa stood up, turned on the lights and then said, "Quatre, wake up," in a firm tone of voice.
Quatre opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. Trowa had been careful to place himself on Quatre's line of vision so Quatre wouldn't have to move to see who had woken him.
"You were having a nightmare," Trowa explained, returning to his chair. Quatre was lying on his stomach, his hands under the pillow and his face turned to Trowa. "Don't move," said Trowa, knowing that Quatre would consider it rude to talk to Trowa while he was in that position. "It'll be painful, and it's not necessary."
Quatre sighed. "My arms are asleep." He ended up coughing, and then gestured to the glass of water resting on the nearby table.
Trowa took the glass and brought it to Quatre's lips, lifting it slowly so Quatre could take small sips.
When the glass was empty, Quatre smiled a little at Trowa. "Thank you." His voice was stronger now. "I would rather sit up."
The sheet was still down to Quatre's hips, and Trowa could see the bandages covering Quatre's back. "I'm not sure you should apply pressure to your back."
Quatre smiled, or at least tried because his torn lip wouldn't let him move his face muscles more. "I can hardly feel anything. Whatever Sally gave me for the pain is working."
Trowa thought about it for a moment but finally went to another bed to gather more pillows. If Quatre was going to lie on his injured back, Trowa was going to make him as comfortable as possible. "Can you get into a kneeling position?"
Not bothering to reply, Quatre slowly bent his legs under him and then using his arms, he pushed himself up. He hissed but managed to wait, kneeling on his hands and knees for Trowa to arrange the pillows.
Quatre struggled to lean back on the pillows. Trowa moved to help him but the moment he touched Quatre, the blond jerked away. Quatre didn't look at him. "I'm sorry. I don't… I can do this alone."
Taking a step back, Trowa watched Quatre shift positions until he was almost sitting upright. Quatre muttered a curse and shut his eyes tightly. "I guess I do feel something," he said, opening his eyes.
"I'll call Sally. She'll want to check on you now that you are awake."
Quatre grabbed Trowa's wrist. "Can we just wait a bit?" He lowered his eyes. "I don't want to see her right now."
Trowa understood what Quatre wasn't saying. Quatre knew that Sally had examined him, and that meant that she knew what had happened. Trowa nodded, gently moved his wrist out of Quatre's grasp and brought the chair closer to the bed. He reached for Quatre's hand again but stopped himself before he touched him, choosing to place his hand on the mattress beside Quatre, where Quatre could reach, if he wanted to.
For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but silence until Quatre's soft voice broke it. "You know." He had turned his face away from Trowa, as if he was ashamed to look at him.
Moving two fingers to rest lightly over Quatre's, Trowa spoke. "You haven't changed to us. You are still the same."
Quatre didn't turn his head but he didn't move his hand away either. "I'm not sure."
"The same thing happened to me when I was with the mercenaries." Trowa lowered his head, letting his bangs conceal his face. "You know now. Do you think any less of me?"
The slight cringe of the bed let Trowa now that Quatre had turned to him this time. Quatre's fingers moved over Trowa's, holding his hand and giving it a light squish. "You are still Trowa."
With a deep breath, Trowa raised his head again, and let Quatre see him, see the lie reflected in his face. Quatre had always been able to read him.
"You lied." Quatre's voice only held a tingle of accusation, the rest was shock. "You've never lied to me."
The need to lower his eyes again was too great but Trowa kept them trained on Quatre. "I'm sorry." He knew the guilt must have been clear in his face for Quatre to see. "I needed to show you."
Slowly, Quatre's lips turned to a small smile. "I'm glad it wasn't true," the smile quivered a little, finally settling on a fake one, "for you."
Trowa remained quiet. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he kept looking at Quatre, dropping all his masks and making his face as readable as possible, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
"I'm sorry I pulled away from you." There were tears in Quatre's eyes but they hadn't fallen.
"You aren't pulling away now."
Silence filled the room again, however this time it wasn't because there were no words but because they weren't needed.
* * *
They pushed him into the cell, and although he stumbled and swore as he was forced to put weight on his injured leg, he didn't fall. The men followed Quatre inside, the last one closing the open bars door behind him.
"He's dangerous. Put another set of cuffs on him."
Quatre's hands were grabbed harshly and a man put a second set of cuffs around his wrists.
"Get him ready for questioning," the same voice as before said. Quatre had known he was in trouble the moment he saw that soldier. Things have a way of coming back when they are least expected.
He was pushed to the far wall and his arms raised above his head, where the chain between the cuffs was linked to a hook on the wall. Quatre had to stand on tip toes to reach the ground. The position and his injured leg prevented him from lashing out at the men.
There were hands all over him, taking off his boots and socks, emptying his pockets and taking away his belt, holster and any concealed weapons he had.
The floor was cold and Quatre felt a chill on his back. He raised his head defiantly and saw five men in front of him.
"Matthews, Croft, I leave this to you. Any information you can gather would make me and his Excellency very happy."
"Yes, Lieutenant, Sir," saluted the two men.
'So he's a lieutenant now,' thought Quatre.
The man left the cell, followed by two of his soldiers. Matthews and Croft remained.
They were both tall and over thirty, one with brown curly hair and the other with hair black and straight.
"Matthews doesn't have any patience, kid," said the one with black hair. "Just answer our questions and save yourself some grief.
Quatre decided not to speak. He had the option of playing word games with them, answering the questions that weren't dangerous and keeping silent with the others. That was a risky game since, to an experienced interrogator, silence could say more than any answer, and right now, Quatre's wasn't feeling up to it. He knew that this approach would be more painful but less stressful to his mind.
He felt the blows and after a while stopped hearing the questions. The only sounds he made were hisses and grunts, until the pain became too much and he started to swear loudly, something he very rarely did. When they finally stopped, Quatre was already in so much pain that he hardly even noticed.
"We'll come back tomorrow, and the day after that," one of them said. "The sooner you talk the better."
Then they were gone, leaving Quatre alone in the cold dark cell.
* * *
Duo walked into the room slowly, hoping to make as little noise as possible. After Quatre had woken, Sally had checked him over. She had said that his bruises were healing nicely, as well as the bullet graze. With a lot of rest and medication, Quatre should be able to make a full recovery in a short amount of time.
Duo didn't doubt that Quatre's body would recover but his mind was another thing. Quatre was strong but after going through something like that he would need a lot of help and support to get himself together. The scars on Quatre's body would heal but the ones in his mind were deeper.
Pausing at the door, Duo took a deep breath. His fists were clenched tightly. He wanted to go back to the satellite and blow the whole thing up, just kill everyone who had hurt Quatre, but most of all, he was angry at himself.
"Duo, come here."
He should have known Quatre would notice he was there. Even if it was dark and he had been quiet. Walking the rest of the way into the room, Duo turned on the lights a bit, enough so he and Quatre could see each other but not so much that they couldn't hide in the shadows if they wanted to.
There was a chair by the bed. Duo sat down. "You should be resting."
"I am," replied Quatre. He was lying on his side, an arm pillowed under his head, facing Duo. "You are the one wandering around when everyone else is sleeping."
Duo shrugged. "I've slept enough." He noticed that even under the dim light, Quatre's bruises were visible. The coloring meant that they were healing but it made Quatre look even worse than before. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore." Quatre's eyes moved to the side. "I'll be alright."
Duo let out a long breath. "You can hate me, you know? I understand." Looking down at his fidgeting fingers he waited for Quatre to say something. Quatre had every right to hate him, but Duo was hoping desperately that it wasn't true, even if he didn't deserve Quatre as a friend anymore.
"Do you?" Duo raised his eyes to see that Quatre had moved a bit back in the bed, where the light wasn't so bright. "Hate me, I mean?"
"No!" Duo's voice sounded angry. Leaning closer to Quatre he said in a softer tone, "I don't hate you," he shifted his eyes and whispered, "I hate myself."
Quatre moved closer and hissed when he resumed his previous position. "I was selfish."
Duo blinked, confused. "What?"
"I can handle the bruises. I'll be able to come to terms with the… with what happened." Quatre closed his eyes as he spoke those last words and was silent for a moment. He sighed, opened them and looked at Duo. "If you had been captured, I wouldn't be able to handle the guilt." He lowered his eyes. "I was selfish, and I'm sorry."
Whatever went down in Quatre's head was something Duo would never understand, especially if it led him to those conclusions. Duo opened his mouth to tell Quatre that he wasn't selfish, and that if he was guilty of something it was of thinking to much, but before he could Quatre shook his head and held a finger to Duo's lips.
"You are not ready to talk about this," Quatre said. "And neither am I." He removed his fingers slowly from over Duo's lips. "Would you tell me about the time you spent at that school with Heero? Did every girl there want to kiss him too?"
Duo never lied, but if he was good at something, it was avoiding the truth. He put a goofy grin on his face and talked. With a cheery voice he told Quatre about those days, making it sound like a happy tale, a story of two almost normal boys, living in a world where war was something that happened to others.
When he heard Quatre's rhythmic breathing Duo turned off the lights and left the room quietly, letting the smile slip away.
* * *
"You have to eat if you want to get your strength back," said Wufei, eying the half empty plate on Quatre's lap.
"I know," Quatre replied, but didn't make a move to grab his fork again. "I'm just full."
Wufei finally took the tray from Quatre's lap and placed it on a nearby table. It was logical that Quatre wouldn't recover his appetite so soon, but at least he was eating something. Wufei would give him a few days, but if he wasn't eating normally by then he would force feed Quatre if it was necessary.
They sat in silence. Quatre had been awake when Wufei had come into the room; they had exchanged greetings but hadn't started a conversation. Out of all the pilots, Quatre was the one Wufei knew the least. They had only met face to face when he'd arrived on Peacemillion and since then the few conversations they'd had had been mission related.
Nonetheless, hearing what had happened to Quatre had affected Wufei more than he wanted to let on. He knew they were fighting a war and was well aware of the risks involved, but degrading a prisoner the way they had Quatre, broke every rule of a civilized conflict.
Wufei had noticed some changes in Quatre. He seemed to be avoiding looking at other people in the eyes and his movements were more deliberate. Wufei had noticed that Quatre was a very tactile person, and even though Quatre still touched the people around him, he flinched every time someone approached him.
"Trowa mentioned once that you've met Treize Kushranada." Quatre was looking at the far wall. He left the statement hanging, giving Wufei the chance to talk of he wanted to or to end the conversation with his silence.
The mention of Kushranada always made Wufei feel angry. He clenched his fists. "I did. Once."
Silence followed until Quatre spoke again after a few minutes. "I don't mean to pry. I was just wondering…" Quatre looked at his hands. "I met him on the satellite."
Wufei saw red. His nails were biting into his palm and he let out a low growl. Wufei had thought that as many things as Treize was, he was at least an honorable man. "He was responsible for this?"
"No." Quatre shook his head. "This," he looked down at himself with a sad expression, "happened before." The next words came soft, low as a whisper, as if Quatre didn't believe them himself. "I think he helped me escape."
The words hit Wufei like a blow. He unclenched his fists slowly and just asked, "What?"
"I couldn't have escaped alone, and I think he provided the necessary help." He looked at Wufei this time. "Do you think… do you have the impression that it's something he would do?"
"Yes." After all, Treize had let him go, and he hadn't been hurt like Quatre.
"He's a worthy adversary."
Wufei gave Quatre a serious look. "You owe him nothing."
"I know."
* * *
Quatre lay on the floor in the far the corner of the cell. He was trying to stay as still as possible, knowing that any movement would cause more pain. He was shivering slightly and the thirst was starting to get to him. Talking to Treize had been a challenge. Every word he'd uttered felt like it was ripping his throat. Now he was lying on the cell floor waiting… waiting for them to come again to "question" him, to get it over with and kill him, to be rescued or to find a way out. He hated the wait.
For now, there was nothing for him to do but that, and waiting left a lot of time for thinking, and thinking led to remembering. A tear slid down his face and Quatre used the back of his hand to wipe it, angry that he had let it fall. He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He was stronger than that, he had to be.
But yet, the tears kept falling and he kept remembering.
Gritting his teeth, Quatre pulled harshly on his cuffs. He let out a curse when the metal created pressure over the damaged skin, and a sharp sting ran up to his arm. Quatre closed his eyes and focused on the pain on his wrists. It was a momentary relief from the memories he desperately wanted to avoid.
Then something happened. He wasn't sure what, but there was something different in the dark cell. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn't hear the hum of the electricity. Taking the broken hook from his pocket, Quatre got up slowly, using the wall as leverage.
He hissed at the pain the movement brought but walked to the cell door anyway. Experimentally, he touched it, and let out a relived sigh when he wasn't electrified. The electrical locking mechanism wasn't working either. Quatre grabbed onto the bars and pulled. After a while he managed to slide the door open enough for him to sneak through.
It was so dark he might as well have kept his eyes shut. He followed a wall, using it to guide him, until he bumped into a door. His heart stopped as he grabbed the handle and turned it. The door opened.
A part of Quatre's brain whispered that it was too easy. Something had to be wrong. Quatre ignored it and kept walking. He had to get out of there.
Flickering emergency lights illuminated the corridor. Quatre moved as fast as he could to the elevators, remembering having seen the emergency stairs beside them. He wasn't looking forward to climbing five levels up, and his leg was already protesting, but he wouldn't risk the elevators.
As he approached the stairs, a figure appeared before him. The soldier was startled for a moment but recovered and went for his gun. Quatre was faster. He charged at the soldier, ramming the hook he was carrying in the soldier's neck.
The soldier let out a pitiful wail and brought his hands to his neck, and the gun fell, forgotten, on the floor.
Quatre wasted no time and dived for the gun. He hit the soldier with it on the back of the head. The soldier fell to his knees and Quatre hit him again. This time, the soldier collapsed, face first on the floor, and didn't get up.
Leaving the man there, Quatre headed for the stairs, moving as fast as he could. He probably didn't have much time.
The walk to the hangar was painful but without incident. He didn't encounter any more soldiers, which made him even more suspicious of the situation. Escaping shouldn't be this easy. As he reached the space Leo he planned to use to get back to Peacemillion, Quatre noticed a figure from the corner of his eye. He pointed the gun at the figure before he even had time to see who it was.
Treize Kushranada stood there, watching, and suddenly Quatre understood why things had been so easy. Maybe Treize had really been sorry for what his men had done, or maybe he was playing some sort of game, but whatever it was, he wasn't trying to stop Quatre's escape.
Lowering the gun Quatre said, "Consider us even." With that, he climbed into the suit, and powered it up.
* * *
TBC
Last part will be posted tomorrow.
Rating: NC 17
Pairings: 2+4, OMCx4
Summary: Some battles are won and others are lost, but in a war the consequences are severe and not always honorable.
Warnings: Violence, graphic NCS/rape, torture, angst, language. This story explores dark topics; please don't read if you are offended by any of these subjects. Also Alternative Timeline and non-linear writing style.
Archive: Gundanium Line
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters used in this fic.
Notes: Written for the Whumped!Quatre Ficathon, filling Harvest Blue's request.
Thanks a lot to Anne for the beta and all the help and support while writing the fic.
___
Part Two
Sally covered Quatre with a blanket from the waist down. The pilot was lying on his stomach. She had bandaged the welts on his back but the weigh of the covers would hurt Quatre's torn skin. One of the other pilots could go find something for him to wear later, but right now, he was sleeping, and wouldn't care if he was naked under the sheets.
It was good that Quatre trusted her enough to tell her what kind of sedatives he hadn't built a resistance to. From what she had gathered, all the pilots had their defenses enhanced, making them resistant to many drugs. Thankfully, the sedative Quatre had recommended had worked.
After determining that Quatre didn't have a concussion, Sally had decided to sedate him before she started to treat him. It had been the right decision. Quatre had thanked her but it wasn't until she realized exactly what had happened to him that she understood why.
Looking at him one last time, Sally exited the infirmary, closing the door quietly behind her. She leaned on the door and took a big breath. There was no way she was going to face the pilots with tears in her eyes. After all the time in the militia, she had seen her share of injuries and death, and even though she had never grown used to it, she had become stronger. After examining Quatre and getting an idea of what he had gone through, Sally was having a hard time controlling her emotions.
The price of war was too high. Every time the pilots took off to fight for everyone, she was forced to see children going to war, while she stayed. She had just spent an hour patching Quatre up, knowing that the moment he was alright, he would go into battle again.
With one last deep breath, Sally walked down the hall and towards the small common room the pilots had appropriated for themselves. The door was closed, as usual, but she didn't stop to knock. The four boys were waiting for her inside. Duo had been lying on the couch, probably sleeping, since he had been on duty for nearly forty-eight hours. Heero and Trowa were sitting at the table, facing each other, and Wufei was leaning on the wall next to the couch.
Duo sat up when she closed the door behind her. The rest of the pilots didn't move from their spots, but they were all looking at her expectantly.
Sally walked to the center of the room, where she could see all the boys. "Quatre is resting now. I gave him a sedative to help with the pain. He's sleeping." Sally was a professional and she would report Quatre's condition efficiently. If she tried to distance herself with the patient she wouldn't let her emotions take over. "The worse injury is a bullet wound in his right calf. Thankfully it was only a graze. He doesn't have a concussion; his trauma was directed to his body, not so much to his head. His ribs are bruised but none of them are broken or fractured. There are multiple bruises, and welts on his ba--."
Duo interrupted her. "Welts?" There was no expression on Duo's face but his voice was a little broken.
"Quatre..." Duo's question had broken through her professional detachment, and now her voice was filled with the concern she had been determined not to show. "Quatre was tortured." She lowered her eyes. Not amount of professionalism could make her look the pilots when she delivered the next words. "And raped."
* * *
Trowa opened his eyes slowly when he heard a small noise. He stretched himself on the metal chair, already feeling his muscles cramp for sleeping in that uncomfortable position. He looked towards the bed where Quatre was resting, and saw him turning in his sleep.
The sedatives must have been wearing off. Trowa had been there for the last three hours, watching over Quatre. After dressing him in a pair of soft cotton pants, Trowa had sat on the bedside chair, and eventually had fallen asleep.
They had decided to take turns to watch over Quatre. Duo had been reluctant to leave Quatre's bedside but they had finally convinced him that he would be no use to Quatre if he was half asleep. Heero had taken the first watch. Quatre hadn't moved in the four hours Heero was with him. Trowa took the next, and it seemed that Quatre was ready to wake up.
Trowa watched Quatre closely, determined to wake him if he started to move too much. It wouldn't surprise him if it took a while for Quatre to control his nightmares. They all had them; they had seen too much to have a good night sleep.
A soft whimper escaped Quatre's lips. Trowa stood up, turned on the lights and then said, "Quatre, wake up," in a firm tone of voice.
Quatre opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. Trowa had been careful to place himself on Quatre's line of vision so Quatre wouldn't have to move to see who had woken him.
"You were having a nightmare," Trowa explained, returning to his chair. Quatre was lying on his stomach, his hands under the pillow and his face turned to Trowa. "Don't move," said Trowa, knowing that Quatre would consider it rude to talk to Trowa while he was in that position. "It'll be painful, and it's not necessary."
Quatre sighed. "My arms are asleep." He ended up coughing, and then gestured to the glass of water resting on the nearby table.
Trowa took the glass and brought it to Quatre's lips, lifting it slowly so Quatre could take small sips.
When the glass was empty, Quatre smiled a little at Trowa. "Thank you." His voice was stronger now. "I would rather sit up."
The sheet was still down to Quatre's hips, and Trowa could see the bandages covering Quatre's back. "I'm not sure you should apply pressure to your back."
Quatre smiled, or at least tried because his torn lip wouldn't let him move his face muscles more. "I can hardly feel anything. Whatever Sally gave me for the pain is working."
Trowa thought about it for a moment but finally went to another bed to gather more pillows. If Quatre was going to lie on his injured back, Trowa was going to make him as comfortable as possible. "Can you get into a kneeling position?"
Not bothering to reply, Quatre slowly bent his legs under him and then using his arms, he pushed himself up. He hissed but managed to wait, kneeling on his hands and knees for Trowa to arrange the pillows.
Quatre struggled to lean back on the pillows. Trowa moved to help him but the moment he touched Quatre, the blond jerked away. Quatre didn't look at him. "I'm sorry. I don't… I can do this alone."
Taking a step back, Trowa watched Quatre shift positions until he was almost sitting upright. Quatre muttered a curse and shut his eyes tightly. "I guess I do feel something," he said, opening his eyes.
"I'll call Sally. She'll want to check on you now that you are awake."
Quatre grabbed Trowa's wrist. "Can we just wait a bit?" He lowered his eyes. "I don't want to see her right now."
Trowa understood what Quatre wasn't saying. Quatre knew that Sally had examined him, and that meant that she knew what had happened. Trowa nodded, gently moved his wrist out of Quatre's grasp and brought the chair closer to the bed. He reached for Quatre's hand again but stopped himself before he touched him, choosing to place his hand on the mattress beside Quatre, where Quatre could reach, if he wanted to.
For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but silence until Quatre's soft voice broke it. "You know." He had turned his face away from Trowa, as if he was ashamed to look at him.
Moving two fingers to rest lightly over Quatre's, Trowa spoke. "You haven't changed to us. You are still the same."
Quatre didn't turn his head but he didn't move his hand away either. "I'm not sure."
"The same thing happened to me when I was with the mercenaries." Trowa lowered his head, letting his bangs conceal his face. "You know now. Do you think any less of me?"
The slight cringe of the bed let Trowa now that Quatre had turned to him this time. Quatre's fingers moved over Trowa's, holding his hand and giving it a light squish. "You are still Trowa."
With a deep breath, Trowa raised his head again, and let Quatre see him, see the lie reflected in his face. Quatre had always been able to read him.
"You lied." Quatre's voice only held a tingle of accusation, the rest was shock. "You've never lied to me."
The need to lower his eyes again was too great but Trowa kept them trained on Quatre. "I'm sorry." He knew the guilt must have been clear in his face for Quatre to see. "I needed to show you."
Slowly, Quatre's lips turned to a small smile. "I'm glad it wasn't true," the smile quivered a little, finally settling on a fake one, "for you."
Trowa remained quiet. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he kept looking at Quatre, dropping all his masks and making his face as readable as possible, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
"I'm sorry I pulled away from you." There were tears in Quatre's eyes but they hadn't fallen.
"You aren't pulling away now."
Silence filled the room again, however this time it wasn't because there were no words but because they weren't needed.
* * *
They pushed him into the cell, and although he stumbled and swore as he was forced to put weight on his injured leg, he didn't fall. The men followed Quatre inside, the last one closing the open bars door behind him.
"He's dangerous. Put another set of cuffs on him."
Quatre's hands were grabbed harshly and a man put a second set of cuffs around his wrists.
"Get him ready for questioning," the same voice as before said. Quatre had known he was in trouble the moment he saw that soldier. Things have a way of coming back when they are least expected.
He was pushed to the far wall and his arms raised above his head, where the chain between the cuffs was linked to a hook on the wall. Quatre had to stand on tip toes to reach the ground. The position and his injured leg prevented him from lashing out at the men.
There were hands all over him, taking off his boots and socks, emptying his pockets and taking away his belt, holster and any concealed weapons he had.
The floor was cold and Quatre felt a chill on his back. He raised his head defiantly and saw five men in front of him.
"Matthews, Croft, I leave this to you. Any information you can gather would make me and his Excellency very happy."
"Yes, Lieutenant, Sir," saluted the two men.
'So he's a lieutenant now,' thought Quatre.
The man left the cell, followed by two of his soldiers. Matthews and Croft remained.
They were both tall and over thirty, one with brown curly hair and the other with hair black and straight.
"Matthews doesn't have any patience, kid," said the one with black hair. "Just answer our questions and save yourself some grief.
Quatre decided not to speak. He had the option of playing word games with them, answering the questions that weren't dangerous and keeping silent with the others. That was a risky game since, to an experienced interrogator, silence could say more than any answer, and right now, Quatre's wasn't feeling up to it. He knew that this approach would be more painful but less stressful to his mind.
He felt the blows and after a while stopped hearing the questions. The only sounds he made were hisses and grunts, until the pain became too much and he started to swear loudly, something he very rarely did. When they finally stopped, Quatre was already in so much pain that he hardly even noticed.
"We'll come back tomorrow, and the day after that," one of them said. "The sooner you talk the better."
Then they were gone, leaving Quatre alone in the cold dark cell.
* * *
Duo walked into the room slowly, hoping to make as little noise as possible. After Quatre had woken, Sally had checked him over. She had said that his bruises were healing nicely, as well as the bullet graze. With a lot of rest and medication, Quatre should be able to make a full recovery in a short amount of time.
Duo didn't doubt that Quatre's body would recover but his mind was another thing. Quatre was strong but after going through something like that he would need a lot of help and support to get himself together. The scars on Quatre's body would heal but the ones in his mind were deeper.
Pausing at the door, Duo took a deep breath. His fists were clenched tightly. He wanted to go back to the satellite and blow the whole thing up, just kill everyone who had hurt Quatre, but most of all, he was angry at himself.
"Duo, come here."
He should have known Quatre would notice he was there. Even if it was dark and he had been quiet. Walking the rest of the way into the room, Duo turned on the lights a bit, enough so he and Quatre could see each other but not so much that they couldn't hide in the shadows if they wanted to.
There was a chair by the bed. Duo sat down. "You should be resting."
"I am," replied Quatre. He was lying on his side, an arm pillowed under his head, facing Duo. "You are the one wandering around when everyone else is sleeping."
Duo shrugged. "I've slept enough." He noticed that even under the dim light, Quatre's bruises were visible. The coloring meant that they were healing but it made Quatre look even worse than before. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore." Quatre's eyes moved to the side. "I'll be alright."
Duo let out a long breath. "You can hate me, you know? I understand." Looking down at his fidgeting fingers he waited for Quatre to say something. Quatre had every right to hate him, but Duo was hoping desperately that it wasn't true, even if he didn't deserve Quatre as a friend anymore.
"Do you?" Duo raised his eyes to see that Quatre had moved a bit back in the bed, where the light wasn't so bright. "Hate me, I mean?"
"No!" Duo's voice sounded angry. Leaning closer to Quatre he said in a softer tone, "I don't hate you," he shifted his eyes and whispered, "I hate myself."
Quatre moved closer and hissed when he resumed his previous position. "I was selfish."
Duo blinked, confused. "What?"
"I can handle the bruises. I'll be able to come to terms with the… with what happened." Quatre closed his eyes as he spoke those last words and was silent for a moment. He sighed, opened them and looked at Duo. "If you had been captured, I wouldn't be able to handle the guilt." He lowered his eyes. "I was selfish, and I'm sorry."
Whatever went down in Quatre's head was something Duo would never understand, especially if it led him to those conclusions. Duo opened his mouth to tell Quatre that he wasn't selfish, and that if he was guilty of something it was of thinking to much, but before he could Quatre shook his head and held a finger to Duo's lips.
"You are not ready to talk about this," Quatre said. "And neither am I." He removed his fingers slowly from over Duo's lips. "Would you tell me about the time you spent at that school with Heero? Did every girl there want to kiss him too?"
Duo never lied, but if he was good at something, it was avoiding the truth. He put a goofy grin on his face and talked. With a cheery voice he told Quatre about those days, making it sound like a happy tale, a story of two almost normal boys, living in a world where war was something that happened to others.
When he heard Quatre's rhythmic breathing Duo turned off the lights and left the room quietly, letting the smile slip away.
* * *
"You have to eat if you want to get your strength back," said Wufei, eying the half empty plate on Quatre's lap.
"I know," Quatre replied, but didn't make a move to grab his fork again. "I'm just full."
Wufei finally took the tray from Quatre's lap and placed it on a nearby table. It was logical that Quatre wouldn't recover his appetite so soon, but at least he was eating something. Wufei would give him a few days, but if he wasn't eating normally by then he would force feed Quatre if it was necessary.
They sat in silence. Quatre had been awake when Wufei had come into the room; they had exchanged greetings but hadn't started a conversation. Out of all the pilots, Quatre was the one Wufei knew the least. They had only met face to face when he'd arrived on Peacemillion and since then the few conversations they'd had had been mission related.
Nonetheless, hearing what had happened to Quatre had affected Wufei more than he wanted to let on. He knew they were fighting a war and was well aware of the risks involved, but degrading a prisoner the way they had Quatre, broke every rule of a civilized conflict.
Wufei had noticed some changes in Quatre. He seemed to be avoiding looking at other people in the eyes and his movements were more deliberate. Wufei had noticed that Quatre was a very tactile person, and even though Quatre still touched the people around him, he flinched every time someone approached him.
"Trowa mentioned once that you've met Treize Kushranada." Quatre was looking at the far wall. He left the statement hanging, giving Wufei the chance to talk of he wanted to or to end the conversation with his silence.
The mention of Kushranada always made Wufei feel angry. He clenched his fists. "I did. Once."
Silence followed until Quatre spoke again after a few minutes. "I don't mean to pry. I was just wondering…" Quatre looked at his hands. "I met him on the satellite."
Wufei saw red. His nails were biting into his palm and he let out a low growl. Wufei had thought that as many things as Treize was, he was at least an honorable man. "He was responsible for this?"
"No." Quatre shook his head. "This," he looked down at himself with a sad expression, "happened before." The next words came soft, low as a whisper, as if Quatre didn't believe them himself. "I think he helped me escape."
The words hit Wufei like a blow. He unclenched his fists slowly and just asked, "What?"
"I couldn't have escaped alone, and I think he provided the necessary help." He looked at Wufei this time. "Do you think… do you have the impression that it's something he would do?"
"Yes." After all, Treize had let him go, and he hadn't been hurt like Quatre.
"He's a worthy adversary."
Wufei gave Quatre a serious look. "You owe him nothing."
"I know."
* * *
Quatre lay on the floor in the far the corner of the cell. He was trying to stay as still as possible, knowing that any movement would cause more pain. He was shivering slightly and the thirst was starting to get to him. Talking to Treize had been a challenge. Every word he'd uttered felt like it was ripping his throat. Now he was lying on the cell floor waiting… waiting for them to come again to "question" him, to get it over with and kill him, to be rescued or to find a way out. He hated the wait.
For now, there was nothing for him to do but that, and waiting left a lot of time for thinking, and thinking led to remembering. A tear slid down his face and Quatre used the back of his hand to wipe it, angry that he had let it fall. He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He was stronger than that, he had to be.
But yet, the tears kept falling and he kept remembering.
Gritting his teeth, Quatre pulled harshly on his cuffs. He let out a curse when the metal created pressure over the damaged skin, and a sharp sting ran up to his arm. Quatre closed his eyes and focused on the pain on his wrists. It was a momentary relief from the memories he desperately wanted to avoid.
Then something happened. He wasn't sure what, but there was something different in the dark cell. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn't hear the hum of the electricity. Taking the broken hook from his pocket, Quatre got up slowly, using the wall as leverage.
He hissed at the pain the movement brought but walked to the cell door anyway. Experimentally, he touched it, and let out a relived sigh when he wasn't electrified. The electrical locking mechanism wasn't working either. Quatre grabbed onto the bars and pulled. After a while he managed to slide the door open enough for him to sneak through.
It was so dark he might as well have kept his eyes shut. He followed a wall, using it to guide him, until he bumped into a door. His heart stopped as he grabbed the handle and turned it. The door opened.
A part of Quatre's brain whispered that it was too easy. Something had to be wrong. Quatre ignored it and kept walking. He had to get out of there.
Flickering emergency lights illuminated the corridor. Quatre moved as fast as he could to the elevators, remembering having seen the emergency stairs beside them. He wasn't looking forward to climbing five levels up, and his leg was already protesting, but he wouldn't risk the elevators.
As he approached the stairs, a figure appeared before him. The soldier was startled for a moment but recovered and went for his gun. Quatre was faster. He charged at the soldier, ramming the hook he was carrying in the soldier's neck.
The soldier let out a pitiful wail and brought his hands to his neck, and the gun fell, forgotten, on the floor.
Quatre wasted no time and dived for the gun. He hit the soldier with it on the back of the head. The soldier fell to his knees and Quatre hit him again. This time, the soldier collapsed, face first on the floor, and didn't get up.
Leaving the man there, Quatre headed for the stairs, moving as fast as he could. He probably didn't have much time.
The walk to the hangar was painful but without incident. He didn't encounter any more soldiers, which made him even more suspicious of the situation. Escaping shouldn't be this easy. As he reached the space Leo he planned to use to get back to Peacemillion, Quatre noticed a figure from the corner of his eye. He pointed the gun at the figure before he even had time to see who it was.
Treize Kushranada stood there, watching, and suddenly Quatre understood why things had been so easy. Maybe Treize had really been sorry for what his men had done, or maybe he was playing some sort of game, but whatever it was, he wasn't trying to stop Quatre's escape.
Lowering the gun Quatre said, "Consider us even." With that, he climbed into the suit, and powered it up.
* * *
TBC
Last part will be posted tomorrow.