Gundam Wing: Trowa/Quatre
Title: Half a Song
Author: Anne
Theme: Intimacy
Rating: PG
It was dark and cold.
Trowa shivered.
This place, whatever it was, reminded him a little too much of space. When he had got his memories back, courtesy of Zero, it had not been just of the good times, but the bad as well, the nightmares returning with a vengeance. He had not told Quatre, but then he hadn't needed to. The first night they slept together, they had woken curled around and holding each other tightly, seeking refuge from dreams neither could escape.
"Quatre?" he called softly, but there was no reply. He hadn't expected one, but still he knew that Quatre was here, lost to him.
He frowned. He had come to get Quatre back, yes that was it. He couldn't remember, his grip on the real world was fading, merging into the darkness, the shadowlands between life and death.
Was this Quatre's mind or merely another plane of existence? It seemed so real.
A low groan echoed through the landscape.
Quatre.
It had to be.
"Cat?" Trowa called this time, using the name Quatre insisted he be called. Trowa liked calling him that, it was more intimate than Quatre, something special between them, a sign of trust, of love, a promise of more. And, he had to admit, when Quatre stretched out on the bed, open and inviting, Trowa could not resist. He had always had a weakness for cats, and this was no different. Quatre had whacked him playfully when Trowa had told him that; it was a private joke between them, although Quatre still insisted that he did not purr. Trowa disagreed. Already he knew what Quatre liked, what drove him crazy, how he loved to touch and be touched and where.
"Trowa?" Quatre's voice was hesitant and weak. He sounded scared. Trowa focused and reached, following his heart, trusting his instincts as he couldn't see. The only thing lighting his path was trust. Trust in Quatre, in their relationship, in their future. He clung to it, hoping, needing, and not daring to believe in anything but their truth.
Getting closer, Trowa could make out a faint light, a glow illuminating the body slumped against the smooth white wall.
Wall? What the hell?
This wasn't a cell. Was it?
He walked quickly, and then broke into a run. "Cat. Cat."
Trowa put his arms around Quatre, holding him tightly. Quatre groaned again, and opened his eyes. "You came."
"I came." Trowa kissed Quatre's forehead, his cheek, his lips. "You called me and I came."
"I tried to get back to you, but I couldn't. I couldn't get free." Quatre stared down at his hands. "Too much blood. I couldn't escape it. White, it's all white. Nothing. I couldn't get through the nothing."
Trowa helped Quatre to his feet, sliding his arms around his waist. "It's not real, Cat," he whispered. This /was/ a cell, but it was one Quatre had constructed of his own guilt and despair. He kissed Quatre again. Quatre met his gaze, and smiled shakily.
"Take me home, love," he whispered back. "Take us home."
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Author: Anne
Theme: Intimacy
Rating: PG
It was dark and cold.
Trowa shivered.
This place, whatever it was, reminded him a little too much of space. When he had got his memories back, courtesy of Zero, it had not been just of the good times, but the bad as well, the nightmares returning with a vengeance. He had not told Quatre, but then he hadn't needed to. The first night they slept together, they had woken curled around and holding each other tightly, seeking refuge from dreams neither could escape.
"Quatre?" he called softly, but there was no reply. He hadn't expected one, but still he knew that Quatre was here, lost to him.
He frowned. He had come to get Quatre back, yes that was it. He couldn't remember, his grip on the real world was fading, merging into the darkness, the shadowlands between life and death.
Was this Quatre's mind or merely another plane of existence? It seemed so real.
A low groan echoed through the landscape.
Quatre.
It had to be.
"Cat?" Trowa called this time, using the name Quatre insisted he be called. Trowa liked calling him that, it was more intimate than Quatre, something special between them, a sign of trust, of love, a promise of more. And, he had to admit, when Quatre stretched out on the bed, open and inviting, Trowa could not resist. He had always had a weakness for cats, and this was no different. Quatre had whacked him playfully when Trowa had told him that; it was a private joke between them, although Quatre still insisted that he did not purr. Trowa disagreed. Already he knew what Quatre liked, what drove him crazy, how he loved to touch and be touched and where.
"Trowa?" Quatre's voice was hesitant and weak. He sounded scared. Trowa focused and reached, following his heart, trusting his instincts as he couldn't see. The only thing lighting his path was trust. Trust in Quatre, in their relationship, in their future. He clung to it, hoping, needing, and not daring to believe in anything but their truth.
Getting closer, Trowa could make out a faint light, a glow illuminating the body slumped against the smooth white wall.
Wall? What the hell?
This wasn't a cell. Was it?
He walked quickly, and then broke into a run. "Cat. Cat."
Trowa put his arms around Quatre, holding him tightly. Quatre groaned again, and opened his eyes. "You came."
"I came." Trowa kissed Quatre's forehead, his cheek, his lips. "You called me and I came."
"I tried to get back to you, but I couldn't. I couldn't get free." Quatre stared down at his hands. "Too much blood. I couldn't escape it. White, it's all white. Nothing. I couldn't get through the nothing."
Trowa helped Quatre to his feet, sliding his arms around his waist. "It's not real, Cat," he whispered. This /was/ a cell, but it was one Quatre had constructed of his own guilt and despair. He kissed Quatre again. Quatre met his gaze, and smiled shakily.
"Take me home, love," he whispered back. "Take us home."
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