Disclaimers: I still own nothing.
Notes: Here’s the next part.
Wufei rushed forward as Quatre’s limp body sank to the floor. He rolled Quatre over onto his back, frowning at the sight of
blood on the blonde’s head. He must have hit it on the floor when he fell. Also disturbing was the paleness of Quatre’s skin,
the shivering in his unconscious body.
Wufei wasted no time, he pulled Quatre into his arms, lifting him from the floor. Then he rushed up the stairs, Trowa leading
the way to Quatre’s bedroom and opening the door for him.
It was obvious to Wufei that Trowa was worried, but then again he knew how Trowa felt for Quatre. While he talked to no
one else, Trowa had always seemed able to confide in Wufei. It stemmed from the time they had spent together during the
war, when Trowa had so graciously given him a place to rest for the night, a fire to warm himself by. But they were no more
than just friends, as Wufei hoped their relationship would remain.
He had no interest in Trowa as more than just a friend, as of yet no interest in anyone else in a more romantic way. But as he
saw it, he had more than enough time for that kind of thing later in life. He was still young and had plenty of time left in his life
for relationships and that sort of thing.
As he set Quatre down on the bed, the blonde’s eyes slowly opened. Trowa leaned closer as Quatre looked up at Wufei with
weary eyes. “It isn’t him.” He mumbled, shaking his head. “It’s one of the others.” The blonde’s eyes once again fluttered
shut as he gave in to unconsciousness.
“What did he mean by that?” Wufei asked, stepping back away from the bed to give Trowa room.
Trowa reached over to the bedside table as he sat on the edge of the bed. He took a wet cloth out of a water-filled basin and
wrung it out with one hand. Then he applied the cloth to Quatre’s forehead, dabbing at the blood that was steadily flowing
from the small cut in his head.
“Since he said it wasn’t you, I suppose I can tell you.” Trowa said, as he continued to clean the wound on Quatre’s head.
Then he turned to Wufei, fixing him with a stern glare. “But you have to promise not to tell Heero or Duo.”
“I promise.” Wufei replied quickly. He was becoming quite worried, first Quatre’s sick, now he’s being asked to keep
secrets. It was all very odd.
Trowa sighed. “Quatre sensed pain from one of the pilots, but he couldn’t tell who it was. He woke up screaming, then
passed out, with a burning fever. Out of desperation, Rasid called me, telling me how Quatre had been overworking, never
letting anyone help him. I rushed right over.”
“So, this was all just some trick to get us here? This entire Christmas celebration idea?” Wufei asked.
“Sort of. Quatre didn’t know how to get any of you here. He’s afraid that the person he’s sensing might hurt himself. He
knows it’s not you. But that still leaves Heero and Duo.”
“Well, I’d rule out Duo. No one so annoyingly cheerful can be depressed. And Heero always was a bit psychotic, suicidal
throughout the war.” Wufei replied.
“We’ll just have to keep an eye on the both of them.” Trowa said, just staring down at the Arabian as he took the blood stained
cloth away from Quatre’s head and held it in his hands.
Duo sighed as he walked over to the stairs and sat on one of the steps. He knew he shouldn’t have come. Quatre had
probably sensed how miserable he was, probably knew by now how much he wished for death. He should have just stayed at
home where he could waste away in peace.
“You okay?” Heero asked.
“I’m worried about Quatre. He didn’t look well at all.” Duo said, still not lying. He was worried about Quatre, and the blonde
hadn’t looked too well. He was just leaving out the part about himself, that he didn’t feel like living anymore.
“You look tired. Are you sure you’re okay?” Heero said, sitting beside him.
“I didn’t get much sleep on the shuttle ride. Guess I’m just tired.” That’s right, tired of living, tired of the pain, just plain
He stood, leaning heavily on the railing of the stairs. He felt himself swaying, and tried hard to stop himself. But he was just so
tired, so exhausted. That shuttle ride hadn’t left him with much time to rest, considering he had been a stowaway since he
couldn’t afford an actual ticket. But that was the problem when your business was failing, you never had any money.
Strong hands grasped his shoulders, and he let out a sigh at the warmth he felt from them. He turned and saw Heero staring at
him. “Do you need help getting upstairs?” Heero asked. “Abdul is ready to take us to our rooms.”
Duo looked over and noticed for the first time the man standing behind Heero. He hadn’t noticed his arrival before. But that
was no surprise considering how out of it he felt.
“Heck, why not!” Duo said, tossing his arm around Heero’s shoulders casually. Inwardly, he was grateful that Heero had
offered. He didn’t think he could make it all the way up the stairs by himself.
As they walked, Duo made sure to keep some of his weight off of Heero. There was no need to let Heero know just how
exhausted he really was. Soon, they found themselves outside a door, which Abdul pointed out as being Duo’s room. Right
across the hall was Heero’s.
“Thanks a bunch, Heero.” Duo said, smiling his brightest as he took his arm away from Heero.
Heero didn’t reply, he just turned and walked over to his own door. Duo sighed, then opened his door, stepping inside. As
soon as he closed the door behind himself, he dropped his duffle bag to the floor, then quickly followed it, as he himself
slumped to the floor, exhaustion taking over as he lost consciousness. The last thought going through his mind was that he
was glad the rug was so thick, the sound of him hitting the ground would be lessened because of it.
Trowa looked up as the door opened. He had just finished telling Wufei about why the other pilots had been brought to the
estate, when Rasid walked into the room. In his hands, he carried a tray, probably containing lunch for the Quatre.
Rasid walked over and, without a single word, set the tray on a table near the bed. He looked over to the bed, glaring at Trowa
for a moment, before his eyes locked on the cloth Trowa still held in his hands.
The large Arabian stalked over to the bed, and snatched the cloth from Trowa’s hand. He pulled Trowa up from his seat with
his other hand, his eyes blazing with fury.
“You worthless little nobody, how dare you cause harm to Master Quatre?! I was right to mistrust you . . . you are as
dangerous as I thought! He deserves better than a violent circus clown!” Rasid sneered, hatred seeping from every word he
Trowa winced at the anger in Rasid’s voice, his words cutting through Trowa like a knife. Rasid pushed him away, causing
him to stumble backwards, almost tripping before once again regaining his balance.
Trowa didn’t say a word, he just turned, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he ran to his own room. It hurt, hearing that
Rasid still mistrusted him, but on top of that, of him thinking that Trowa would ever hurt the precious Arabian. He could never
hurt Quatre, would never hurt Quatre. He might as well destroy his own soul if he ever raised a hand to the beautiful blonde.
He slammed his door behind him, holding back his tears. Quickly, he went to a corner of his room, punching a wall in
frustration before he turned his back and sagged against the wall, letting himself sink to the floor. He lowered his face to his
knees, wrapping his arms around his legs as the sobs came forward. Oh God, did it hurt, those names, the anger Rasid felt
toward him, the pain of knowing that Rasid was right about him. Trowa was a nameless nobody. He never knew why he had
ever thought himself worth anything.
Wufei watched as Trowa’s eyes glistened with tears, continuing to watch as his silent friend turned and ran from the room.
He turned to Rasid. “How dare you?!” Wufei shouted.
“He hurt Master Quatre.” Rasid replied coldly, as if unconcerned about what he had done to Trowa.
“You lack honor . . . attacking a man who won’t defend himself.” Wufei seethed, holding back the urge to punch Rasid in the
face. “He did not even hurt Winner.”
Rasid raised the cloth he had snatched from Trowa. “Then why is this covered in blood, Master Quatre’s blood? And why is
there a gash on his forehead?”
“Quatre insisted on greeting all of us downstairs, although we all advised him to get back into bed. He collapsed and hit his
head on the floor.” Wufei replied, trying desperately not to shout. “You can check if you want. I’m sure the blood is still
there. Go look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“I do not believe that will be necessary. I believe you.” Rasid said, not offering an apology.
Wufei turned away from Rasid, glancing down at Quatre. The blonde was still unconscious. “If you will stay here and keep
an eye on Winner, I will go see to Barton’s welfare.”
“His room is right next door.” Rasid said in a hushed tone.
He turned and walked to the door, not thanking the man for the information. This was all Rasid’s fault anyway, the reason
why he had to go check on Trowa’s welfare. There was no reason to thank him for anything at the moment. He immediately
walked into Trowa’s room without knocking, knowing that Trowa would not answer him even if he had.
“Trowa?” Wufei called out, purposely calling his friend by his first name, knowing that in such a situation it was more
comforting to hear your first name, rather than your last, especially coming from a friend.
There was no answer. He wondered if his friend had even returned to his room. Wufei listened carefully, glancing around the
room as he stepped further in. He heard a distinct whimpering sound, and followed it to the source. He was surprised to see
Trowa huddled in a corner, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sobbed.
Trowa had never shed tears in front of Wufei before. All the years that Wufei had know Trowa, maybe just a single tear
escaped his eye, but no more that that. This was unsettling, to see Trowa Barton reduced to tears because of a few rashly
spoken words. More had to be going on than Wufei knew about.
Wufei knelt before Trowa, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Trowa?” He whispered.
“He’s right. I'm worthless, a nobody.” Trowa mumbled, his body shaking.
“No, you are worth so much.” Wufei replied, not quite sure how to comfort the other man. He didn’t have much experience
in that department. He wasn’t the type to hug someone, and he doubted that Trowa would appreciate it either. “Do you want
me to get you a drink of water?”
Trowa looked up and nodded slightly. “Thank you.” He mumbled.
Wufei walked into the bathroom, that each bedroom had. He grabbed the cup off the sink and filled it with cool water. Then
he returned to Trowa’s side, holding the cup out to him.
Trowa reached out with a shaky hand, taking the offered drink. Slowly he drank, taking small sips. “Thank you.” He said
“Come on, Trowa, the floor is not such a comfortable place.” Wufei said, gently urging Trowa to stand. Trowa silently
obeyed, standing and letting Wufei lead him over to the bed. “Why don’t you get some rest?”
Trowa laid down on the bed. “He’ll never love me.” He sobbed, turning over onto his side, facing away from Wufei. “Rasid
was right, I’m a worthless nobody.”
“Is he the one that hit you?” Wufei asked, referring to that large bruise on Trowa’s cheek.
“Yes, but he was right to do it. I don’t deserve Quatre. I never will.” Trowa said.
“Nonsense, you are not worthless. Don’t let his words hurt you so terribly.” He paused, trying to think of a way to make the
other man feel better. “I admire you, Trowa, for not lashing out at Rasid. You have the training to take him down and a lesser
man would have knocked him unconscious. Even I was tempted to do so, but I did not think it my place to interfere.”
Trowa rolled over, wiping the tears from his reddened eyes. “You . . . admire me?” Trowa whispered, his one visible eye
reflecting confusion and doubt.
“Of course. You are a very strong person. And I do not say that to too many people.” Wufei laid a hand on Trowa’s arm,
offering a slight smirk. “Now, get some rest. I will wake you if you are needed.”
Trowa nodded as he closed his eyes. Wufei sat there, watching him, just to make sure he got some rest. Wufei knew how
much Trowa loved Quatre. He only wished Trowa would tell the blonde Arabian how he felt.
To Be Continued . . .