Disclaimers: I own nothing, not a thing.
Notes: Here’s Part 11. It’s short, but I hope it’s good. Not very many notes. Mostly Quatre suffering in this part, but also
very serious Duo and Heero suffering as well. Someone new makes an appearance in this part.
Desires and Deceptions
Quatre fought his way up through unconsciousness, wanting to wake up . . . needing desperately to awaken. Something was
wrong, horribly wrong. His legs pained him terribly, and he knew that he had cut his legs open on the glass just a few minutes
ago in the ballroom. But that wasn’t what was wrong. There was something else, something far worse.
Something warm slipped into his hand, and immediately he knew that it was Trowa’s hand he felt clasping his own. He felt a
smile tugging at his lips, even as he struggled to awaken. But only a moment later, the comfort he had felt, disappeared.
It began as a single, simple whisper, growing in number, until his head was filled with the whispers of hundreds. All of them
talked at the same time, and he couldn’t distinguish between them, couldn’t separate the voices from one another to hear what
they said. Then he saw things, even with his eyes closed. He was bombarded with visions, all jumbled together. There was a
boy, crying over a broken and bloody body . . . a woman, standing before a building engulfed in flames as she screamed for her
children. The visions never lasted long, only a few seconds at most, and always they were too close together, making him
unsure where one ended and another began.
And the emotions, there were so many. Fear . . . worry . . . a flash of hatred . . . giddiness . . . terror . . . rage . . . love . . . but
he couldn’t tell who was feeling what, couldn’t separate himself from what he was sensing. Why couldn’t he block it . . . why?
He snapped his eyes open, throwing Trowa’s hand away from him as he scrambled back on the bed, covering his ears with his
hands as if that could somehow help. But it did nothing, and the voices still taunted him, the vicious little whispers echoing
through his mind as the visions continued to attack him. A child, beaten, broken, his body used for other men’s pleasure . . . a
faceless doctor, watching as one of her patients slowly bled to death while she frantically tried to help . . . someone cloaked in
darkness approaching a bed where two people lay asleep, a feeling of utter hatred coming from this unknown person and
directed to one of the bed’s occupants.
Where was Trowa? Why wasn’t he helping? Quatre kept asking himself these questions, unable to comprehend why he couldn’
t block all of this, why his empathic abilities had begun to overwhelm him.
Quatre threw his head back and screamed, wanting it to stop, desperate for silence again. But the voices wouldn’t end, the
visions wouldn’t stop, and the emotions kept plaguing him. Even as Trowa’s strong hands gripped his shoulders, Quatre cried,
trying desperately to find some piece of happiness anywhere in this house and hold onto it. But as soon as one vision, emotion,
or whispered voice came, it left, never present long enough for him to grasp it.
“Quatre!” Trowa shouted, somehow breaking through the whispers that plagued him.
Quatre lifted his gaze. The moment his eyes locked onto Trowa’s, a wave of fear and worry crashed into him, emotions filled
with pain and suffering from Trowa’s past. Trowa’s life flashed in those emerald eyes, as if it was being played before Quatre
like a movie in fast forward. It slowed every now and then, to show a scene of his life slowly, but it only seemed to be painful
memories that came forward . . . Moments of pain and suffering in Trowa’s life.
He couldn’t take it, hearing, seeing, and sensing all of the pain around him, including all of Trowa’s. He shoved Trowa away
from him. “Stay back!” He shouted, his body beginning to shiver even as sweat poured from his body, drenching his clothes
“Quatre, what’s wrong?” Trowa asked, moving toward him again.
Quatre held up his hands, as if Trowa meant to hurt him. “Please . . .” He whispered, hoping that Trowa would understand.
“Please, don’t touch me. I can’t control it.”
“Control what?” Sally asked, holding a syringe in one of her hands.
“The voices . . . the visions . . . I can’t shut them out. It hurts so much.” He cried, wanting desperately to gain control. But
nothing he tried seemed to work.
Sally moved forward, getting ready to sedate him. Trowa grabbed her arm, thankfully keeping her back. Quatre just didn’t
think he could stand it if she touched him, if he had to sense someone else’s emotions so clearly as he had Trowa’s. Quatre
watched as the two of them held a conversation.
“Don’t.” Trowa said, turning her to face him, while Quatre curled himself into a ball on the farthest corner of the bed away
“Why not? He obviously needs it.” Sally replied, shooting him a questioning glance.
Trowa lowered his gaze, bowing his head. “It won’t help him. It'll just leave him vulnerable to even more of this. If he’s
awake, he has at least some chance at controlling his empathic abilities somewhat.” Trowa said.
“What can we do to help him?”
“We have to find out what set this off. Maybe something happened . . . I don’t know. But neither of us can touch him.”
“Why not?” Sally asked.
Trowa shook his head. “It’ll only hurt him. Physical contact makes it so much stronger, more powerful. We have too many
bad memories for him to be able to handle it. We need someone we can trust, that hasn’t suffered a great deal.”
Quatre saw as Sally sighed and closed her eyes. “And where do you expect to find someone like that?”
“I don’t know.” Trowa replied, grimly.
Quatre closed his eyes, covering his ears with his hands once again as he whimpered. He didn’t want to hear anymore. They
couldn’t help him, no one could. He would slowly lose his mind because of this and there was no one that could help him. He
sobbed, the visions still flashing through his mind, the emotions causing his chest to radiate in pain. He would give anything for
it to end. And if it came to it, he would take his own life to stop this agony.
Trowa paced, every few moments glancing worriedly at his lover who was now curled into a tight ball on one of the corners of
their bed. His body was shivering, his clothing drenched in sweat. Trowa grimaced as he stepped over to the bed, looking
worriedly at the dark crimson soaking through Quatre’s pant legs, the tears in the fabric around his knees that were surrounded
by his precious blood. Those cuts would need to be tended to soon.
He checked his watch for what was probably the hundredth time in the past few minutes. Where was Sally anyway? She had
said she got an idea, and then just left, telling him that she’d be back as soon as possible. That had been a couple hours ago.
Trowa hoped she knew what she was doing, and wondered what the hell she was up to.
Trowa glanced back at Quatre one more time. Then he turned to the door. He walked over slowly, wondering whether it was a
good idea or not to leave Quatre alone in his present state. But he had to check if Sally was on her way. He just had to. It was
better than standing around with nothing to do. He couldn’t comfort Quatre, couldn’t even touch him. He frowned at that.
How would anyone else be able to touch him to help him, and not just make it worse for him?
He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Keeping his hand on the doorknob, he quickly glanced up and down each
hallway, hoping Sally would get back soon. As he was backing into the room once again, he caught sight of a movement to his
left. When he turned, to his relief, he saw Sally approaching, with someone walking behind her.
Trowa stepped further out of the room, his hand dropping away from the doorknob, after he heard the door click shut behind
him. He nearly gasped at the sight of who was accompanying Sally. It was Mariemaia, a former enemy of the Gundam pilots.
Trowa had never met the girl in person. He had so far avoided meeting her, unlike some of the others. He just didn’t feel right
about confronting the girl, considering he was using the name of her dead uncle, he felt apprehensive about it.
Sally stopped in front of Trowa. “Let me introduce the two of you.” Sally said in a pleasant manner. “Mariemaia, this is one of
the ex-Gundam pilots, Trowa Barton.”
The young girl visibly flinched, hearing that name. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him slightly. Even though she didn’t look
all that pleased at Trowa, she still held out one of her hands to him.
Trowa nodded, and took hold of her offered hand, shaking it gently, but firmly. “Nice to meet you.” He said.
“A pleasure.” She replied, offering a slight smile. She didn’t seem too upset about him using her uncle’s name. Of course, she
didn’t seem too happy about it either.
“How is Quatre?” Sally asked, bringing Trowa from his observations of the young girl.
“No better.” Trowa replied, lowering his gaze to the floor. “He hasn’t really moved since you left.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Mariemaia asked.
“I told you . . . he’s sick.” Sally replied.
“But that’s all you said. I’d like some kind of an explanation.” She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
Trowa looked down at the girl and sighed. They would have to explain some things to her, if they wanted her help. “Quatre is
an empath. And at the moment he is sensing too much from too many people. He seems unable to block everything, and we
have to find out why. Unfortunately, physical contact makes it all the more clear to Quatre, and we are unable to touch him
because it will only cause him more pain.”
“How am I supposed to help then?” She asked.
Sally clamped her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’ve suffered through too many things in our lives to be able to get near
Quatre. But you, because you’re still so much younger than either of us . . . you don’t have as many experiences as us, and
therefore won’t cause him as much pain as we would.”
Mariemaia nodded, then looked up at Trowa. “But won’t I still hurt him?”
“Probably.” Trowa sighed. “But it seems as if you are the only one able to help us. You’ll do far less damage than either of us
would do if we touched him.”
“What do I have to do?” She asked.
“Quatre hurt his legs, and his wounds need to be tended to. And I need a sample of his blood, so I can run some tests to find
out what exactly is wrong with him.” Sally replied.
Mariemaia nodded. Trowa turned and opened the door, letting Sally and the girl go first. He sighed, then followed, not sure if it
was a good idea to get Mariemaia involved in this.
“Where is he?” Sally asked.
Trowa pushed past her, wondering what she had meant. But when he looked to the bed where Quatre had been, he saw that the
blonde was gone. Frantically, he looked around the room, his eyes settling on the closed bathroom door. He rushed over to it,
hearing the others following behind him.
He knocked on the door. “Quatre? Are you in there?” Trowa asked, laying his ear against the door.
There was no reply.
“Quatre?” Trowa asked, a bit more loudly. “Answer me, please!”
Again, there was no reply.
Trowa glanced back, seeing the worried faces of the two people behind him. Then he turned back to the door. “Quatre . . . I’
m coming in!” He said.
“No . . . g-go away.” A timid voice replied. “I have to stop the pain. J-Just leave me alone.”
Trowa did not like the sound of that. He grabbed the doorknob, frowning when he realized that the door was locked from the
inside. “I’m coming in!” He nearly shouted, stepping back. A moment later he kicked the door open, causing the wooden door
to splinter as the lock broke.
He nearly fell to the floor in shock when he saw Quatre. The blonde was standing in front of the sink, a bloodstained razorblade
held in one hand. His wrist was dripping blood, dark crimson spots on the pure white surface of the sink. The blonde’s entire
body was shaking, his bangs plastered to his face with sweat.
“Oh, my God . . . Quatre.” Trowa gasped, not knowing what to say.
“I . . . I just want it to stop.” Quatre replied. “I’m sorry.” He whimpered, sinking to the floor, the razorblade slipping from his
fingers. He laid down on his side, curling himself into a tight ball as he sobbed.
Trowa grimaced, hating to see his angel in so much pain. He stepped forward, knowing that he had to get Quatre back into
bed. But obviously, the Arabian wouldn’t be able to make it on his own. Trowa would have to carry him, no matter how much
it hurt Quatre.
“I’m sorry, Quatre . . . but I have to get you back to bed.” Quickly, trying to move as fast as he could to lessen Quatre’s pain,
Trowa picked him up. As soon as he came in contact with Quatre, the beautiful Arabian screamed, his small body beginning to
convulse in Trowa’s arms. He hurriedly carried the small form over to the bed, wincing as Quatre’s teeth sunk into one of his
arms, as the blonde tried to stop the convulsions going through his body.
Trowa set him down on the bed, quickly moving back to give his lover some room. Sure enough, as Trowa let go and moved
away, the convulsions in Quatre’s body slowed to a stop, his trembling lessened. Once again, the Arabian curled himself into a
ball, whimpering and sobbing while he clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to stop the voices. The blood, still flowing
from his wrist, dripped onto his cheek, but Quatre seemed oblivious to it.
Trowa turned slightly, and gestured for Sally and Mariemaia to approach. Then he looked back at the blonde. “Quatre . . .” He
said, waiting until his love looked up at him before he continued. “Sally brought someone to help take care of you.”
“Who . . . who is it?” He asked, his voice wavering.
As Mariemaia stepped closer, Trowa laid his hands on the girl’s shoulders, guiding her toward the bed. “Mariemaia, this is
Quatre Winner.” Trowa said, introducing her to his love.
Being the gentleman that he was, Quatre held out his hand, although it continued to tremble. Mariemaia slowly reached out,
hesitating a moment before she finally clasped Quatre’s hand and shook it. A pain-filled whimper escaped Quatre’s mouth at the
contact, obviously sensing something unpleasant from the girl. But at least he hadn’t screamed out like when Trowa had
Mariemaia took her hand away, feigning a smile. Then she turned to Sally. “What do I do?” She asked.
Sally reached over and grabbed some items from the bed where she had set them earlier. The first things she handed to
Mariemaia were a piece of cloth and a bottle of antiseptic. “I need you to clean off that wrist and hold it out so I can see what
kind of damage he’s done to himself. If the wound is too deep, I’ll have to give him stitches myself.”
Mariemaia nodded, opening the bottle and soaking the cloth in the liquid. She set the bottle on a nearby table and turned to
Quatre. “May I see your wrist?” She asked pleasantly.
Quatre nodded weakly, his eyes only open slightly. Apparently the blonde was falling asleep, although he seemed to be fighting it
with all the energy he had left. He held his wrist out to the girl, gasping when she finally grabbed his arm above the wound. She
proceeded to wipe all traces of the blood away, slowly moving around the wound itself, until she gently cleaned the blood away
from it as carefully as she could.
Sally and Trowa watched from over her shoulders, not knowing what else to do. Trowa desperately wanted to comfort his
angel, to hold his hand and tell him that everything would be all right. But he just couldn’t do that.
“It doesn’t look too deep, and he hasn’t seemed to cut the vein. Just a minor incision. I guess he was interrupted before he
could go any farther. Here.” Sally handed Mariemaia a roll of gauze as she took the bloodstained cloth from the girl. “Wrap it
around his wrist, but not too tightly that it’ll cut off circulation to his hand.”
“Okay.” Mariemaia replied.
She did everything Sally instructed her to do. After finishing with his wrist, she had moved onto his legs. First cutting away the
pants, leaving Quatre to look as if he were wearing shorts. Then she removed any pieces of glass that were still imbedded in his
flesh. And finally, she cleaned and bandaged the wounds.
Trowa had found himself unable to stay in the room, while Mariemaia tended to the wounds on Quatre’s legs. He just felt so
helpless, not knowing what to do, not able to do what he wanted most. If only he had been able to comfort his angel in some
way. He went into the bathroom, just staring at the razorblade he had picked up off the floor a few moments ago.
A few drops of Quatre’s precious blood still stained the surface of the reflective metal surface. If Trowa had opened that door
just a few moments later, they would have been too late. Trowa shuddered as that thought crossed his mind, dropping the
razorblade into the sink. He clutched the edges of the sink, his knuckles turning white because of his strong grip as he closed
his eyes against a wave of grief. He wouldn’t cry, no he had to keep it together, if only for Quatre’s sake. He had to be strong,
so Quatre would know that everything will be okay.
Trowa took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. Then he turned, and walked out of the bathroom. When he stepped back into
the bedroom, he saw Mariemaia pulling a syringe from Quatre’s arm. Trowa could see that it was filled with blood, Quatre’s
“I’ll take this to HQ immediately and run some tests.” Sally said, hastily tossing her stuff back into her black bag. She left
quickly, pausing once at the door. “Try to keep him calm, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With that said, she left, not uttering
one more word.
Trowa stepped past Mariemaia and closer to the bed, staring worriedly at his beautiful, young lover. Quatre’s eyes were closed
now, his breathing still erratic. He was asleep, and yet not at peace. Trowa frowned at that. He couldn’t bear to see him
suffering. He reached out to his angel, pulling his hand back mere inches from touching his beloved Quatre. He couldn’t hurt
him, wouldn’t contribute to the pain he was already feeling.
Heero couldn’t believe he had stayed so long at Preventers headquarters. There had been an anonymous call, that a hacker
would try to infiltrate their systems at a certain time. Lady Une, knowing Heero to be the best, understandably wanted him to
come in and supervise. Some security force they had, Heero thought. If not for Heero, that hacker would have destroyed every
file in the computer system with the virus he, or she, had planted.
It had taken hours for Heero to get rid of that virus and repair the damage it had caused. And then at Lady Une’s request he had
stayed to run a search for the hacker that had done it. There was no trace of him, or her, much to Heero’s disappointment. He
really wanted to hurt that person for making him leave Duo’s side.
Heero hadn’t even noticed how long he had stayed, until Lady Une told him to leave, that he was late for the party at Quatre’s
estate. He was just so involved in work to have noticed the time. And now he regretted staying so long. Duo was probably
mad at him for being late for the party.
Heero stepped into the mansion, passing by several people on his way in. He glanced at his watch, and wondered why so many
party guests were leaving at this hour. It was still early, much too early for the party to have ended.
Ahead of him he saw Sally running down the hallway. He could see that she was carrying her black bag in her hand.
Something must have happened. As she passed, Heero reached out and grasped her arm, stopping her.
“What’s going on?” Heero asked.
“Quatre passed out at the party. I guess everyone got pretty shaken up. The fact that he cut his legs open on glass and his
blood was on the dance floor, probably didn’t help people get into a party mood either.” Sally replied quickly. “Now, if you’ll
excuse me, I have to get this blood sample to HQ for tests. Something is terribly wrong with Quatre.”
“What? What’s wrong with him?” Heero asked, releasing his hold on Sally’s arm.
“He seems to have lost control over his empathic abilities.” She paused, obviously finding it difficult to continue. “No one can
touch him, or else he starts screaming. He’s sensing far too much. We had to bring in Mariemaia just so that I could get this
blood sample and to bandage his wounds.”
“Then you should hurry.” Heero stated.
Sally nodded, silently, then quickly departed. Heero watched her for a few moments, until she was out of sight, and then
continued on his way to the bedroom he and Duo shared. Duo might have reacted badly to seeing Quatre pass out. He could be
blaming himself for it. Heero had to check and see if his lover was okay.
Heero hastened his pace, wanting to check on Duo as soon as possible. As he walked hastily through the hallways, he felt a
hand grip his arm. He turned, only to see Relena standing in front of him.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Relena asked, smiling pleasantly.
“I’m going to see Duo. Do you know if he’s in our room?” Heero replied.
“Yes, I believe he went to his room. I haven’t really seen him since the party though.” Relena said. “Say hello to him for me.
If you’ll excuse me, my car is waiting outside. I was so sorry to hear of Quatre’s unfortunate health problem. I hope he’ll be
“So do I.” Heero said, turning away from her.
“Well, I’ll let you go now. See you later, Heero.” She smiled, placing a quick kiss to his cheek before she turned and left.
Heero sighed, shaking his head. That had just been odd. Relena just seemed too pleasant for some reason. He shook the feeling
off, not giving it a second thought and resumed walking. Finally, he reached his objective, and reached out to grab the handle of
the door. Heero opened the door and stepped into the room, stopping short at the shocking sight before him.
“Oh my God!”
Duo groaned, slowly awakening. His head was splitting, he was sure of it. Why else would it hurt so much? He hadn’t had too
much to drink, but then again, he had just gotten over being sick. Perhaps drinking alcohol after being sick was a bad idea. He
couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t like he had been sick before.
Something was wrong. Duo was sure of it. There seemed to be a heavy weight on top of his body. He slowly blinked his eyes
open, wincing as the light pained his eyes. He gasped as he saw what lay on top of him.
It was Hilde, her naked body pressed against him, her legs straddling his hips. Duo moved slightly, and realized that there were
touching in more than one way. A certain part of his anatomy was inside of her. “No, this can’t be happening.” He whispered,
lifting his arms to grip her shoulders. “Hilde, wake up . . . please.” He said, shaking her slightly.
Her eyes remained closed. This couldn’t be happening, Duo thought. No, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have betrayed Heero like
this and had an affair. No . . . but he had, he was inside of Hilde, and that was very convincing proof. Just how much had he
had to drink at the party? Sure there were a few glasses before he had seen Hilde, and the glass Relena had brought over, but
still, he didn’t think he had that much. How else could he explain it though?
“Hilde . . . Please wake up!” He said, this time shaking her more roughly.
Slowly her eyes fluttered open, and she groaned. “Oh, man, what a hangover.” She said, raising one of her hands to her head.
“My head is killing me.”
“Hilde . . .” He gasped, not really knowing what to say.
Hilde looked down, apparently noticing where she was for the first time. She sat straight up in shock. “We didn't, . . . did
we?” She asked, gripping her head with one hand, while her other rested on Duo’s bare chest. Still, their bodies remained
connected in a very intimate way.
Before Duo could open his mouth, he heard the door open. He couldn’t see the door, not with Hilde in his way. But he
immediately recognized the voice that gasped, “Oh my God!”
“Shit!” Hilde nearly shouted, lifting herself from Duo’s lap. Quickly, she grabbed a blanket and pulled it around herself, just as
Duo did the same with a sheet. Hilde left, hastily picking up her clothes from the floor as she made her way to the door. She
slowed as she walked past Heero, obviously afraid of him. “I'm sorry.” She whispered, almost inaudibly, then shut the door
behind herself as she left.
“Heero, I . . .” Duo started as he stood, slowly stepping toward the man he loved. But Heero interrupted him.
“How could you, Duo?” Heero asked, anger apparent in his voice and the way he clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides.
Fury blazed like a fire in his Prussian blue eyes.
“I love you, Heero.” Duo whispered, tears falling freely from his eyes.
“And I love you, Duo.” He paused, taking a breath. “But you blew it.” He turned and walked out of the room, slamming the
door shut behind himself.
Duo sank to his knees, sobbing, not knowing what to do anymore. Heero was gone, probably never to return. Duo had ruined
his one and only chance at happiness, and now Heero was gone. What would he do now?
To Be Continued . . .