Disclaimers: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.
Notes: I skipped ahead in time a bit, because I couldn’t think of anything better to do. Heero suffering, Quatre suffering,
general G-boy torment. Enjoy.
Desires and Deceptions
With a deep sigh, Relena wiped the back of her arm over her sweat-dampened forehead. Then she sighed again and went back
to her work. She had been here in Quatre’s home for two weeks, and for two weeks she had been washing dishes. There
never seemed to be an end of the dirty dishes she was forced to wash. If there wasn’t a dish to be cleaned, then she was
sweeping or mopping the floor, doing some other menial labor that she despised.
It was all because of that little sewer rat, she knew it was. If he had just died, then Relena wouldn’t be in this mess. She'd be
with Heero, the worthless little urchin would be dead, and everyone would be happy. But instead she was here, forced to be
slave labor for that blonde, who had turned out to be just as disgusting as Duo was.
The four of them were freaks . . . sick, twisted creatures the lot of them . . . Wufei, Quatre, Trowa, and Duo . . . they were all
perverse freaks that were twisting her precious Heero’s mind with their depravity. If it weren’t for that Maguanac standing not
five feet away from her, Relena would be seeing to it that they all got what they deserved. But she was kept under guard at all
times, and kept away from any utensils that could be conceived as weapons. She was only allowed to wash plates, pots, and
pans . . . sure they could be used as weapons, but it wasn’t quite as easy to conceal them as a knife would be.
“Get back to work!” That irritating Maguanac sneered.
Relena jumped, startled by the anger-filled voice. She hadn’t even known that she had stopped working . . . she had been so lost
in thoughts. Pausing to cast a glare at her guard, Relena went back to work, scrubbing at a particularly difficult stain on one of
Internally she was plotting, working on a plan for how she could get out of here and still be able to get revenge against that
disgusting little street rat. In time, she thought. It would just be a little longer. Soon she’d get out of this hell and kill that long-
haired bastard. She’d see to it personally this time, no rat poison, no clever little traps . . . this time she’d watch him die in
person. She smirked, the idea that she would see that rat die extremely pleasing to her mind. All she had to do was wait for the
right time, and then vengeance would be hers.
Pain . . . there was so much pain. It ate at him, clawed away at his insides . . . it just hurt so much. He was weary, so tired . .
. hurt and scared. There was nothing but suffering surrounding him, his body and mind growing weaker with each passing
moment. Physically and emotionally he was drained, only holding on by a tenuous thread.
Suddenly, Quatre snapped awake, still feeling the remnants of his dream, knowing in his heart that it hadn’t really been a dream.
Someone was in pain, deep soul-shredding pain. Tears sprang to his eyes, knowing that one of his friends was hurting and he
had a good idea as to who it was.
A warm arm wrapped around Quatre’s waist, pulling him closer to an even warmer body. In response, Quatre clung to his tall
lover, whispering Trowa’s name as he cried on his bare chest. Behind him, Wufei pressed closer to his back. Quatre’s two
loves sandwiched him between them, holding him close, each of them running gentle caresses along his body. Trowa’s hand
moved up and down along his side while Wufei’s slid along his thigh, both of their hands firm yet gentle against him as they
attempted to soothe him.
“What’s wrong, love?” Trowa asked, then pressed a tender kiss to Quatre’s forehead.
“Pain . . .” Quatre whispered, mumbling against Trowa’s muscular body. “I sensed so much pain.” He shivered, despite the
warmth that surrounded him, grabbing Wufei’s wrist and pulling it closer to his chest, wanting more contact, feeling that if he
sensed the love of his two bed mates that he would feel better. With that in mind, he draped a leg over Trowa’s legs, pulling
him closer as well.
Trowa gasped as certain parts of their bodies came into contact with each other, only the thin restrictions of pajamas hindering
their skin from touching. “Don’t, Quatre.” Trowa said, biting into his bottom lip as he closed his eyes, his fingers digging into
“Please . . . I don’t want to feel the pain any more . . .” Quatre pleaded, writhing on the bed so that he stimulated both Trowa
and Wufei at the same time. The groan he heard coming from behind him, told Quatre that he had succeeded and he could see
Trowa’s face well enough to know that his plan was working. “Make it go away . . . please.”
“Quatre . . . stop.” Wufei said, his shuddering breath hot against Quatre’s back.
“No.” Quatre replied breathlessly, desperate to stop the pain he sensed. He released his hold on Wufei’s wrist, pulling away
from Trowa slightly and curling his leg back around Wufei’s, effectively pulling the Chinese youth closer against his back.
Trembling out of desperation and grief, Quatre writhed against Wufei’s body, letting his hands and mouth travel down the planes
of Trowa’s wonderful body, caressing all the spots that he knew would drive the taller youth crazy. Lips and tongue toyed with
the tender skin at the juncture of Trowa’s shoulder and neck, tasting and biting, using suction as he made a noticeable mark on
his beloved. Meanwhile, his hand trailed downward, eventually arriving at a wonderful bulge in Trowa’s pajama bottoms. He
squeezed gently, smirking to himself when he heard Trowa hiss in pleasure, bucking his hips against Quatre’s hand.
However, it ended all too soon for Quatre’s liking. A hand grasped his wrist, pulling Quatre’s hand away from Trowa’s body.
“Stop.” Trowa whispered, while Wufei’s hand settled on Quatre’s hip, forcing him to stop his movements against the Chinese
Quatre tried to pry his arm free, but Trowa was stronger than him, his grip firm yet not hard enough to bruise. After a few
moments, Quatre gave up, lowering his head against Trowa’s shoulder, tears spilling from his eyes as he let his arm go slack.
“Why won’t you help?” Quatre asked, trembling as he cried.
Trowa let go of his arm, his callused fingers gently curling around Quatre’s neck. “This wouldn’t help and you know it.”
Trowa said, sitting up and pulling Quatre along with him. Behind Quatre, Wufei also rose to a sitting position, his hands moving
in slow circles along Quatre’s back. Trowa continued to speak, his voice soft. “The feelings you sensed, whatever they were,
would only come back stronger after . . . well, after what you wanted us to do. You’d be tired and your defenses weakened.”
“I know . . . but it would stop for a while. I only want it to stop.” Quatre said, snuggling against Trowa’s warm body. “Just
for a little while. I’m tired of sensing pain.”
“So you would use us for a few fleeting moments of peace?” Wufei asked, hurt obvious in his voice.
Quatre turned to him, the implications of that statement sinking into his mind. He would have been using them for his own
relief. If they had let him, then he would have made a terrible mistake. He loved them, both of them, and never wanted to hurt
either. “I’m sorry.” Quatre said, bowing his head sadly, his tears freely falling. “I never meant to hurt either of you. I didn’t
realize that I would.”
Gentle fingers hooked under his chin, slowly tilting Quatre’s face up until he was looking into Wufei’s concerned gaze. Wufei
smiled, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Quatre’s in a tender kiss. Quatre gasped, parting his lips willingly. However,
Wufei pulled away, leaving Quatre whimpering for more.
Trowa chuckled behind him, his hands grasping Quatre’s shoulders and turning him to face the taller boy. “The first time we’re
together as a trio should be special, Quatre. We’ll both wait until you are truly ready . . . you definitely aren’t yet.”
“Yes.” Wufei said. “I do not believe that any of us are ready quite yet to go that far in this relationship. Things like this need to
be taken slowly.”
Quatre nodded. “You’re right . . . you both are. I’m sorry for trying to force the two of you into this.”
“Don’t apologize.” Trowa smiled. “You have nothing to feel sorry about.”
Quatre smiled back, grateful to have two such loving companions. “Thank you.” He replied, laying his head against Trowa’s
chest, curling his arms around his lover’s body.
“Now, why don’t you tell us who it was you were sensing? Perhaps there is something we can do.” Wufei said, his hand firm
against Quatre’s back.
“It was Heero.” Quatre murmured, tightening his hold around Trowa’s body. “I’ve been blocking Duo, just as Sally told me to
do. But she never told me to block Heero. I didn’t know he was hurting so badly . . . he needs help. I don’t know why I didn’
t sense it before.”
“How bad is it?” Trowa asked.
Quatre sighed, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feelings he had been trying to force away, knowing that this was only
to help his friend. “He’s wasting away . . . there’s something very wrong.” Quatre answered, a solitary tear falling from his
eye. After a moment, he pulled back, staring deep into Trowa’s eyes . . . or at least his one visible eye. “We have to go see
him. We have to help him.”
“Then we should get dressed.” Wufei suggested, slowly climbing out of bed.
Quatre smiled. “Yes, that would be wise.” He said, grateful that neither Wufei nor Trowa had questioned him. They did need
to go see Heero, to find out just what was wrong with him and how they could possibly help him.
Heero gasped, snapping awake from yet another of his nightmares. He sat bolt upright in an instant, turning to make sure that he
hadn’t awakened Duo. Sighing as he saw that Duo was still sleeping, Heero checked his watch. He frowned . . . it had been
less than an hour since he had fallen asleep, less than an hour since he had thought to get some amount of rest.
He shook his head, his thoughts unclear. He hadn’t slept all that well these last two weeks, nor had he eaten anything. No food,
no matter how little, could be kept in his stomach it seemed. He would just vomit it back up if he tried, so he had given up, not
seeing the point of trying anymore.
Heero was so tired, not just physically either. However, he wouldn’t sleep, not until Duo no longer needed him, and then
perhaps he would die happily knowing that Duo was well. Duo . . . the very thought of the beautiful American caused a sharp
pain to pierce Heero’s heart. He loved Duo so much, and yet knew that he wasn’t worthy of that love in return. Duo was
probably disgusted with Heero, and he should be, especially after all the heartache that Heero’s stupidity had caused.
Heero looked over at the other bed where Duo rested peacefully, happy that the young man was recovering from his ordeals.
The American’s nightmares were fewer than they had been two weeks ago, and not so severe when he did have them. He could
sleep through the night most of the time now.
Duo’s health had been progressing rather nicely. He was off of the IV. His cuts and scrapes were healing nicely, the bruising
on his body nearly completely faded. There was only a slight discoloration to his bruises now, more greenish-yellow than the
huge black and purple splotches that they had been. Duo was stronger now, able to get around on his own somewhat. Sally
insisted that he walk a bit each day, which was helping him greatly.
Heero was happy that Duo was recovering. However, his heart was still in torment whenever he looked upon the long-haired
youth, knowing that he would never be held in the glorious warmth of those wonderful arms again. Undoubtedly, Duo would
never want to be touched by him, and Heero understood that . . . it was his own fault after all. There was no hope of
reconciliation between them. Heero resigned himself to the fact that once Sally no longer needed his help with Duo, that he
would be cast aside, perhaps free to wither away and die in some pathetic way that he deserved.
Sally . . . she hadn’t noticed Heero’s failing health. If she had, then she didn’t let on about it. Her focus seemed to be all on
Duo, never once even casting a single glance in Heero’s direction. It was as if Heero no longer existed in her eyes, except when
she needed something from him. It was Heero that helped Duo to bathe during that first week when Duo didn’t have the
strength to do it himself, it was Heero that entertained him when Sally was in her own room resting. Other than to give out
medication, change bandages, or check on Duo’s welfare, neither of them saw her. Heero did everything. He fed Duo, changed
the sheets, soothed him when he was tormented by nightmares that left him screaming.
Heero never touched Duo unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then he knew that Duo was despising every moment of
it. If Heero could, he would leave and let Duo have some peace away from the disgusting creature that Heero was . . . but then
who would care for Duo? It killed Heero to be around the beautiful young man, the way Duo never looked him in the eyes, the
way he cringed any time Heero touched him, even if it was only to help. Heero spent many a night crying in the shower, using
the noise of the spray of water to hide the sounds of his sobs, hating himself for causing Duo such grief.
Familiar voices caught Heero’s attention, muffled as they were by the door that led to the main room of the suite. Slowly, Heero
stood, crossing the bedroom to the door. He opened it a crack, peering out to see what the commotion was. His eyes widened,
watching as Sally talked pleasantly with Quatre, Trowa and Wufei.
When had they arrived, Heero wondered. He hadn’t heard a knock at the door. He stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest
as he saw that they were headed his way. No, they couldn’t see him like this . . . they’d notice . . . they’d see what he looked
like. Quatre would sense his pain and try to help. He didn’t deserve their kindness. He was supposed to die for the fool he had
been with Duo.
“Heero? Something wrong?” Duo’s voice asked.
Heero turned, watching as the American yawned and stretched, wincing as small aches crossed his body. “N-no.” Heero
replied, trying to keep his voice calm and failing miserably. “We’ve just got some company.” He said. “I-I’ll leave you guys
alone to catch up.” He turned and rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him just as he heard the bedroom door
“Heero?” Quatre’s worried voice called out, followed quickly by a sharp rapping on the bathroom door.
No, Heero couldn’t be seen by them. He locked the door, stepping back away from it, not understanding why his heart was
pounding so erratically. “Go away.” Heero said, his arms winding around his body as if by their own accord. He turned away
from the door, shivering, his eyes catching sight of himself in the mirror above the sink.
He gasped, his eyes widening in shock as he looked upon himself. Taking several shaky steps, he moved closer, his hands
reaching out to grasp the edges of the sink as he stared at himself. No, this couldn’t be what he looked like, Heero thought.
This person that he saw was just a ghost, barely there at all. The person in the reflection was pale and haggard, cheekbones
plainly visible through skin, his eyes sunken and surrounded by deep dark circles. Heero couldn’t believe that this was him . . .
sure he hadn’t looked at himself in a mirror for a long time, but he hadn’t thought that he looked that bad.
He must have been right then . . . if neither Sally nor Duo noticed this, then neither of them cared about him. Duo would rather
see him waste away then say something. Heero had been right all along, Duo did hate him. Heero raised his hand, brushing
aside a tear that had fallen from one of his eyes. Why should he cry for himself? He didn’t deserve pity, not even his own.
“Heero, why don’t you come out so we can all talk?” Quatre asked, his voice muffled by the door.
“No thanks, Quatre.” Heero replied, forcing his voice to remain normal. “You guys and Duo should be talking. I won’t have
anything to add to the conversation, I’m sure.” He tore his eyes away from his reflection, feeling quite dizzy from the hasty
“Come on, Yuy. This will be the first time the five of us have been together in over two weeks.” Wufei added, his voice quite
louder than Quatre’s had been.
“I’m sure Duo would like all of us to be together.” Trowa said.
“I said no!” Heero nearly yelled, then calmed his voice. “No, but thank you. I’ve spent the last two weeks with Duo. You
three haven’t seen him at all. You should get caught up.”
“Fine . . . but if you ever want to talk, please come see us.” Quatre offered, his tone sounding concerned. It left Heero
wondering if Quatre had sensed something from him. If he had, then Heero had a problem.
“I’m fine, Quatre.” Heero answered, staring down at his hands that were gripping the edge of the sink tight enough to leave his
knuckles turning white. He removed his hands, listening intently until he heard the sounds of conversation coming from the
other room. He smiled to himself, glad that Duo had some pleasant company now.
Sighing, he moved away from the sink. He sat with his back to the door, knowing that he would be able to hear better from
there. After a few moments, he closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. He had just meant to rest his eyes a bit,
but he slipped asleep, not knowing he had done so until Duo’s voice awakened him.
“They’re gone.” Duo announced, loud enough to jar Heero from sleep.
Heero looked at his watch, noticing it had been three hours since the last time he had looked at it. He had gotten more sleep this
time. Well, that was good anyway. “Are you sure?” Heero asked, wanting to trust Duo, but not sure if the others would have
left so easily.
“I don’t lie.” Duo stated. “They left . . . to talk with Sally.”
Hesitantly, Heero reached out and unlocked the door. He could trust Duo, he knew that, but he didn't trust the others. They
could have lied to Duo, told him they were leaving as a way to get Heero to come out and then they could rush back in and ask
all sorts of questions . . . questions that Heero didn’t want to answer. Heero took a breath and stepped out of the bathroom,
warily looking around as he listened to all around him.
“Heero, are you okay?” Duo asked.
Heero looked at Duo, his eyes widening when he noticed that Duo was actually looking at him for the first time in two weeks.
Duo’s attention wasn’t fixed on the floor or on the blankets, he wasn’t looking over Heero’s shoulder or above his head . . . he
was actually looking at him, staring right into his eyes. “I'm fine, Duo.” Heero answered, knowing that his voice was wavering,
his heartbeat once again throbbing in his ears.
Duo narrowed his gaze, as if examining Heero closely. “You look pale.” He said, throwing the blankets away from himself. He
slowly got up, groaning as he carefully moved to stand in front of Heero. “I didn’t notice before . . . I guess I was out of it
most of the time, my perception not all that great. Then Quatre, Wufei, and Trowa kept asking all these questions about you,
asking if you seemed okay. And I couldn’t remember looking at you, not carefully anyway . . . but you look awfully pale, and
thin. Are you sure you’re okay?” Duo said, reaching out and grasping Heero’s arm.
This was too much. Duo was concerned about Heero? No, he couldn’t be. But then why was he asking about him? Why was
he touching him? Heero tried to comprehend the answers to these questions, but it quickly became overwhelming. All the
stress caught up with him, slamming into him suddenly. Everything faded out, the room spinning as he came crashing down.
In the distance he heard as Duo screamed his name, his mind barely registering that he had painfully hit his head on the floor,
before total darkness consumed him.
To Be Continued . . .