Gundam Wing and these tasty bishonens don't belong to me (Until I rule Japan, that is), they belong to Sunrise Ent. Sue me, I dare you to! You'll only get my little brother! Mwahahahaha! Hey, *there's* an idea. . . NEways, blah blah blah, the usual disclaimers, yatta yatta yatta, and if you see Duo running aruond, give him back! He was tied to my bed, but he got loose. . . ::Snicker:: Enjoy! Questions, comments, flames, etc., can be sent to Shinigami_1@hotmail.com. Flames will be laughed at and returned, and posted on the Gundam Wing Mailing List I'm on for all to laugh at. Hahahaha!!
WARNING!!! This part gets a little not-nice. Poor Trowa. . .
Quatre opened his eyes and looked around sleepily. 'The gardens? What am I doing in the gardens?' He looked down and saw Trowa, still asleep against him. 'Oh. I remember. Still, this feels. . . Odd. Not quite right. . .' Quatre took a closer look at his surroundings. 'Oh, my.' They were not laying by the pond, but a lake, and impenetrable mist surrounded them. They were definitely outdoors, though nowhere that Quatre had ever been before. 'Except for possibly in my dreams. . . I hope I'm dreaming.' He looked down at the sleeping Trowa and caressed his cheek softly. 'This can't be real.'
"But it is."
Quatre's head snapped up as the mist surrounding him parted briefly, allowing a small figure passage through it.
"I hadn't realized I spoke out loud." He squinted his eyes, trying to see the dim figure. The boy was very familiar. . .
"You hadn't." The child stopped at the edge of the mist, which Quatre realized was the source of light around him.
"Where are we?"
"A small valley in Southern France." The boy tilted his head to the side.
Quatre's mouth dropped as recognition hit him. 'That's Trowa! But. . .' He looked at the Trowa in his arms, then at the boy as the mist brightened, revealing a kawaii pre-adolescent Trowa in and odd, uniform-like outfit.
"*When* are we?"
The little Trowa shrugged. "A.C. 185, currently."
'A.C. 185? He's about five or six, then.' "My name is Quatre." Quatre smiled. "What's yours?"
The child shrugged again. "They call me Nanashi."
"Nanashi?" The boy nodded. "I'm glad to meet you, Nanashi."
Nanashi shrugged. "Come on." He turned and entered the mist again, pausing when Quatre didn't follow. "Come on. We'll be late."
Quatre looked down at Trowa. "But Tro---"
"Leave him. He'll be fine."
Having nothing better to do and curious besides, Quatre gently disentangled himself from Trowa and stood. "Where are we going?" He followed Nanashi through the dense mist, which was more of a fog.
"Am I dreaming?" 'Or have I just lost my mind?'
Nanashi looked over his shoulder at Quatre. "No and yes, and no."
Quatre frowned. "What does *that* mean?"
Nanashi shrugged. "You're dreaming, but this is real. Was real. And you haven't lost your mind."
"Helpful. You mean this is the past?"
"His past." Nanashi jerked his head in the direction they'd come from. "My present."
"His memories, then?"
". . ."
"He dreams this." Nanashi stopped. "He dreams about you." He looked up at Quatre. "He likes dreaming about you, but fears what happens when he does.
Quatre frowned again. "I don't understand." The surreality of the situation was making him dizzy.
"You will." Nanashi turned and walked through the fog. Quatre shrugged and followed him.
One moment Quatre was surrounded by thick silence and softly glowing fog; the next, light and sound. He gasped and whipped around sharply, but the mysterious fog was gone. Nanashi appeared beside him.
"Welcome to my home. They can't see you."
"What the---?" Quatre looked around the mercenary camp in bewilderment. "How did *this* happen?"
'It does that.' Nanashi walked over to where soup was being served and took a bowl.
Quatre followed him. "Why am I here? Are you a multiple personality?"
Nanashi accepted the soup he was served with a nod, then turned and walked to a nearby tree and sat under it. 'You're here to learn about us, to understand.' He ate in silence for a moment, eyes darting around the camp. 'I'm not a multiple personality, not really. I'm. . . here. I don't have any control over him, I just am.'
"Tien! Nanashi!" One of the soldiers waved at the boy and said something in a different language.
Nanashi got up and went over to the man, Quatre trailing behind. "Oui, monsieur?"
"Ah, Nanashi, tu et tres beau, non?" Nanashi shrugged, lowering his head and crossing his arms over his chest. "Est voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?"
Nanashi squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
"Non? Oh, oui, mon beau Nanashi, oui." The man reached out and lightly stroked Nanashi's cheek, giving him a look that made Quatre sick to his stomach.
"Nanashi, what's he talking about?!" Quatre's eyes widened as the man stood up, taking Nanashi's hand and leading him off. "Please tell me he doesn't mean---"
'He does.' Nanashi followed the man in silence, head hanging low. 'This is what you must see. You need not stay long.' His voice had lost whatever emotion it may have had, becoming flat and monotonous.
Quatre reached out and grabbed Nanashi's shoulder, cursing when his hand passed right through the boy. "No! This can't happen!"
The soldier led Nanashi to a barracks, and turned to face the child.
'You can't alter the past.' The man said something and Nanashi slowly started taking his clothes off, eyes blank. 'You can only hope for a better future.'
Quatre backed into a corner as the man sat in a chair and ran his hands over Nanashi's body, fondling him. Nanashi simply squeezed his eyes shut and submitted to the man's caresses, doing whatever he was told without a sound. The man didn't dawdle; within moments his pants were down and Nanashi was on all fours on a cot, face buried in a pillow, whimpering softly as the man thrust into him.
Quatre curled up in a ball and cried, the soldier's grunts of pleasure mingling with Nanashi's whimpers of pain until Quatre wanted to scream, kill, do *anything* to make it all go away.
And eternity later he became aware of a small hand softly stroking his hair and looked up. Nanashi looked down at him, fully clothed, and shook his head.
"*That* is why he fears dreaming of you. He remembers only pain, not pleasure, and certainly not love. Only the pain survives in his mind."
Quatre wiped his eyes as he sat up, noticing that they were surrounded by the glowing fog once again. "How can he stand to be near anything remotely *resembling* a man after *that* kind of treatment?!" He sniffed at looked at Nanashi in despair.
A shrug was all he got in return. "He hides it well. He wears more masks than the clown one, as do you all." Nanashi looked off into the mist, then focused back on Quatre. "He's afraid to love you. Show him that his fears are groundless; show him how good loving can feel." He started to fade, and Quatre yawned.
'Can you be sleepy in a dream?' he wondered.
Nanashi leaned forward and hugged Quatre. "Please, please show him he's worth loving. For me. I don't want to be a part of him any more, except for a bad memory, something he's gotten over." He looked up at Quatre, a tear falling down his cheek. "Please?"
Quatre held the small child close and offered him a tentative smile. "I promise, Nanashi, that I'll do everything I can to help Trowa; to help you."
A smile, genuine and heavenly, spread across Nanashi's face as he faded out completely. "Domo arigatou gozaimos," he whispered. "I only wish we could have met you years before we did."
Quatre woke abruptly and looked around, half-expecting to see glowing fog around him and small Nanashi in his arms. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was greeted with the mundane sight of the gardens around him. He looked down at the still-sleeping Trowa, amazed at how much more fragile he looked, yet at the same time, how much stronger.
"To have survived that, yet still be able to trust. . ." Quatre shook his head. "But that trust is limited, isn't it?" His voice got softer. "And it has its price. I'll lose you if I go too fast, or too slow. Find the middle ground and we're safe, but how do I find it? How do I know?" Trowa shifted, face scrunching up a bit, as Quatre looked up through the glass ceiling. "Mid-morning, already?" He looked back down at Trowa as the other's eyes opened. "Good morning," he said softly.
"I had a dream." Trowa yawned slightly, wiping sleep from his eyes.
Quatre smiled. "Was it a good one?"
Trowa shrugged. "I guess."
"What happened?" Quatre stretched slightly.
"You were in it." Trowa sat up and stretched, then turned and face Quatre.
Quatre lay down and yawned. "What did I do?"
Trowa blinked and looked donw, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "Not much," he mumbled.
'Not much? Yet it makes him blush?' Quatre sat up again, then stood. "Well, allow me to do a lot, and get us some breakfast, hmm?" He offered his hand to Trowa.
Trowa looked up into Quatre's smiling face, and unreadable expression in his own. He slowly took the offered hand and stood. Quatre nearly crowed with joy when Trowa didn't release his hand, but held it all the way to Duo's room.
'This is progress. Progress is good.' Quatre smiled up at the boy next to him. 'Nanashi, I swear, no matter how long it takes, I'll help Trowa get better. I'll make you both happy.'