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Voice of Death	By : Diane Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1785 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Author: Diane Rainwater

Pairings: 4x3

Warnings:
Slash, AU, No smex (Yes, I think that deserves a
warning.)

Rating:
NC-17

Disclaimer:� I don�t own anything involving Gundam Wing
and I make no profit from this story.�
These lovely bishies belong to many people who
aren�t me.� I just kidnap them.

Notes:
Thanks to my beta Marlenus.� As much as I love him and his work pointing
out my typos and apparent tendency to rhyme without realizing it, he doesn�t
know canon for GW.� I had an offer from
one of my favorite writers, but I think we miscommunicated
somewhere.

�� Leave me your e-mail if you want
me to message you about updates.

Chapter Two

To Heal

People screamed and ran, heading
for the doors as quickly as they could.�
Trowa lay under the dead man�s body, feeling the blood soak his clothes
as the gun fell from his own hand.� The
clatter of metal against the hard floor was lost in the sound of running feet,
screaming women, and shouting men.� It
laid cold and black, seeming to suck in the light of the room.� Quatre was safe, at least for now, and Trowa
just had to focus on breathing.� The rest
didn�t matter.� Just the motion of his chest and the push and pull of air in his
lungs.

Quatre was more scared and panicked
than he�d ever been before.� He�d just
seen Trowa, his Trowa, the boy he played chess with and woke up,
shot in the chest and then kill the shooter.�
His heart was burning and screaming in pain; he had to get to
Trowa.� Quatre tried not to think as he
pushed the body off Trowa�s.� It was
easier not to think that this was a man who had tried to kill him.� No, that didn�t matter.� Trowa mattered.

Red foam flicked at the edges of
the bodyguard�s mouth and more blood stained his entire chest.� Quatre dug in his pocket with one hand while
his eyes furiously searched Trowa�s chest for the bullet wound.� He dialed the number for their private
emergency system.� Finally his eyes
locked on the stain blooming on Trowa�s chest.�
He shouted into the phone that Trowa had been shot, his lung was likely
collapsed, and he needed a rescue helicopter now.� His voice was surprisingly clear and left no
room for argument.� The man at the other
end of the line knew they�d all be fired if they didn�t hurry or if anything
happened to the bodyguard.� Quatre�s
hands pressed against the flow of blood and continued yelling into the phone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Much later, Quatre sat in the
waiting room of the best hospital money could buy.� Actually his family did own most of the
hospital as part of a very large tax write-off.�
Blood covered his once pristine, cream-colored suit and pink shirt.� His creamy, silk tie had long ago been
disposed of in a biohazard bin.� Nurses
frequently approached the heir and offered to call someone for clothes or even
to go out and buy him something else to wear. �They wanted to help the young man, not just
because he was the son of their boss, but because he was so sweet and pathetic.
�Quatre would just stare blankly at them,
overwhelmed by the despair and sickness that permeated the entire hospital, not
to mention his own worry for Trowa.� He
kept seeing the party over and over again.�
He tried to think if he could have stopped what happened.� He could have convinced his father to believe
Trowa�s warnings.� He could have left the
party early.� He could have asked Trowa
what to do to make himself safer.

Quatre stayed in the waiting room,
covered in blood, until the father of another patient dragged the blond to a
bathroom.� The father was used to
handling his unresponsive, autistic son.�
With practiced hands, he cleaned the blood from Quatre�s hands and face,
put him in some of his son�s spare clothes, and returned him to this seat in
the waiting room.� The man had no idea
who this kid was; he only knew that the nurses were concerned for him and that
the blond shouldn�t sit in bloody clothes.

Trowa, for his part, knew nothing
but pain and a shinning angel who promised to stay with him, who made him
promise to stay on Earth and not die.� But
where was his angel now?� Trowa was alone
and he couldn�t find that bright angel anywhere.� Trowa searched and searched, but he was still
alone.� There was only darkness and
pain.� He wanted to leave, to get away
from the pain, but he�d promised the angel.�
No, he couldn�t die.� He had to
live for the angel.

Then his angel came back just when
Trowa had given up.� The pain was too
much. It was too hard to keep breathing.�
He was cold and lost and he�d almost forgotten his promise.� His hand was held and the sweet angel pushed
his hair away from his face.� It didn�t
hurt anymore, not with the angel touching him.�
He wasn�t alone, not anymore.� His
angel was there for him, caring for him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Time passed and Quatre stayed at
Trowa�s bedside.�
He wasn�t really supposed to be there, but when you own the place, it�s impossible
for the staff to say no.� Besides, Trowa
was responding to his presence, becoming more stable when the blond was near
and failing when Quatre left his side.�
The doctors decided it would be best for Quatre to stay with him, for
everyone�s sake.� Trowa would recover
faster, Quatre would be happy, and everyone could keep their job.

Finally Trowa opened his eyes and
stayed conscious for more than a few seconds.�
He�d surfaced several times, but fell back into the darkness as soon as
he was sure he wasn�t alone.� Quatre
would squeeze his hand and Trowa would almost instantly fall back asleep.� His eyes rolled to the blond head of hair
half asleep by his bed, his angel.�
Quatre was the one who�d been there for him, who made him promise not to
die.� It was strange for Trowa to
consider, his charge, his boss, was the angel who kept him on this Earth.� At the same time, it made sense.� He was closer to this boy than anyone
else.� No one else could make Trowa
promise to keep living.

The monitor on his heart beeped a
little faster.� Trowa fought to squeeze
the soft hand resting in his and startled Quatre before a wide, relieved smile
broke his face.� Trowa was a little
surprised to see Quatre wearing plain jeans and an equally plain red shirt.� His hair was a mess and his face was stained
with dried tears and the marks of the hand he�d been sleeping on.�

The sight of Trowa finally awake
and squeezing his hand was enough to wake Quatre from the stupor he�d been in
since Trowa had be brought to the hospital.�
He�d been staring into in the middle distance or into Trowa�s face for
hours or more.� He couldn�t really
remember how long they�d been there.� He
was still ill from the feelings in the intensive care unit.� The air was filled with pain, hopelessness,
desperation, and worry.� For a short
moment, his own happy feelings were enough to push away the others until
Trowa�s eyes fluttered shut again.� It
was near impossible for him to stay awake under the drugs in his IV - Quatre
knew it - but he had hoped for a little more time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A couple days went by and Trowa
healed while Quatre stayed with him in the ICU.�
The nurses finally felt they had to bring a spare bed in and set it up
next to Trowa because Quatre refused to move away from the bed for any length
of time.� They brought him food he barely
touched and even clean clothes after they convinced him to shower.� They tried their best to look after both
patients.� After the first three days, Trowa
was moved to a private room when he was downgraded from critical to stable.

The new room was much more
comfortable and private.� The nurses kept
the spare bed next to Trowa�s along with a comfortable chair on the other
side.� It was easier to convince Quatre
to care for himself since the private room had its own little bathroom.� Quatre was able to shower and change without
being too far from his friend.� He was
also farther away from the other patients, not much but more so than he was in
the ICU.� It helped to protect and
insulate the blond from the despair and pain.

They removed the breathing tube and
Trowa was able to talk.� He just looked
at Quatre, at the bag of clothes beside the bed, the spare bed, the clearly
used chair, and asked, �Why?� in a croaked voice.� Quatre was supposed to hate him now.� Trowa had killed that man � not wounded,
killed � but here was Quatre, still caring about him.� The bodyguard couldn�t understand it.

�Because you�re
my friend, Trowa.� The only one
I�ve ever really had.� Besides, I don�t
want you to be alone.� My father�s rather
upset with me, but my sisters are taking care of paperwork and the handful of
people who agree to meet with such a young business man. �They really are brilliant even if Father
doesn�t believe it. �He�s forbidden any
of the servants to bring me anything.� My
sisters are also banned from the hospital.��
Quatre�s voice sounded rough like he hadn�t used it for days as he
explained the situation to Trowa.� He
knew his bodyguard would want to know what kind of situation they were in.� He always seemed to want to know everything
possible about a situation.

Trowa eyed him critically and
worried over Quatre�s current state.� He
looked far too worn and his eyes were dull and haunted. Large black circles
sagged under Quatre�s eyes.� Trowa glared
at Quatre and then looked at the door.

Reading Trowa was easy since Quatre
was already practiced at understanding his nearly-silent friend.� He knew what Trowa was asking and telling him
to do.� He blushed and looked down at
their joined hands.� �You know what
empathy is?� I�m� well I�m an empath,
Trowa. �I get it from my mother.� She�s an empath too, but not nearly as
strong. �I can feel the pain of everyone
in the hospital.� I can feel the emotions
and physical state of pretty much everyone I get close to.� That�s why I�m alone so much.� I can�t take the constant assault from people
around me.� Being here makes it near
impossible to sleep.� The sickness gets
into my head and my dreams.�� Quatre cut
off and coughed.� Trowa squeezed his hand
and used his free one to offer Quatre a sip of the juice a nurse had brought
him.

It was hard to believe Quatre�s
words, at least for a moment.� Trowa had
wondered what made the blond seem so pure and what kept him isolated.� Trowa had assumed it was because the heir
couldn�t trust many people or perhaps he was too busy for friends.� The idea that his friend could feel the
emotions of other people� that was crazy, wasn�t it?� Then again, Trowa had seen Quatre make some
surprising leaps based off his judgment of certain people.� The blond always seemed to know when someone
was trying to fool him.� Quatre also
wouldn�t lie to him and he wasn�t foolish.�
Maybe there was something to this empathy thing.

Quatre took the offered sip and
continued.� �You�re different
though.� You�re so calm inside compared
to others even-� Quatre paused and debated with himself before continuing, �even at the party you were calm.� You were ice cold inside.��

Tears glistened in Quatre�s eyes as
he smiled faintly.� �Thank you,
Trowa.� You could have died saving me,
but you never hesitated.� You even killed
for me.�� Trowa dropped his gaze and
looked ashamed.� Fear drifted from the
bodyguard and Quatre hurried on.� �No,
you shouldn�t feel like that.� I�m not
upset the man�s dead.� I�m upset you were
hurt, but you were trying to save me.� I
owe you my life, Trowa Barton, and I-�

�Nanashi.�

Quatre faltered.� Trowa had croaked something else out, but he
didn�t understand.� His confusion must
have been obvious because Trowa continued, �I don�t have a name so the real Trowa
Barton and the other mercenaries called me no-name, Nanashi,
before they died.� One of them was
Japanese and it stuck.� I learned
everything Barton could teach me so I became him as I�ve been others.�

Quatre�s mind worked furiously with
this new information and let his eyes drift to middle space.� He�d known that this couldn�t be the real
Trowa Barton the moment he saw the brunet at the foot of the stairs with his
father.� That seemed so long ago.� Quatre hadn�t even thought about it for
months now.� It simply didn�t
matter.� More
importantly, Trowa barely looked sixteen now.� It would have taken even him a few years to
learn everything from Trowa Barton.� That
meant he couldn�t have been more than thirteen when he�d started.� Had he killed then too?� Did this change anything between them?� No, Trowa was still the boy he�d made friends
with, still the bodyguard who�d saved him, and still the soul who calmed him.

Quatre�s eyes refocused and he
smiled at Trowa.� �That doesn�t really
matter now.� I�ll call you whatever you
want and you�ll still be my friend.�
Though� just Nana sounds way too much like a kid calling for his
grandmother.�� He chuckled a little and
Trowa felt more comfortable at the sight of Quatre laughing and smiling so
prettily, even if he looked neglected.�
They had a lot to figure out and work out, with empathy and fake
identities, but at the moment, it didn�t seem to matter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More time flew by and Quatre cared
for Trowa as well as he could.� The
nurses showed him how to clean and dress Trowa�s wound,
how to help him to the bathroom, and how to help the taller boy into bed.� Trowa didn�t really need the help, but it was
nice to feel cared for and it helped Quatre.�
The blond seemed to focus more when he needed to care for Trowa.

The two became closer and feelings
sparked between them.� Quatre was so
adorable and warm, Trowa was happier just being in the room him. �It brought more light into the otherwise gray
world of the mercenary. �Trowa was so
steady and strong, Quatre felt soothed and restored by his presence.� To him it was like settling into his favorite
chair after a hard day working for the company.�
Everything seemed to disappear.

Quatre developed the habit of smoothing
back Trowa�s hair before they�d go to bed.�
Quatre still refused to sleep unless he was in the bed next to Trowa�s.� They would lie awake and watch the other in
sleep, not realizing the habit was copied by the other.� The nurses would coo over the adorable sight
of the two of them holding hands while they slept.� They looked so peaceful, like a pair of
angels or something.

Not everyone thought it was cute
though.� Mr. Winner didn�t have time to
check on his son and he certainly wasn�t going to do anything that would
encourage his son clinging to his temporary and apparently useless bodyguard.� He was, however, getting information from the
nurses who assured him that the boys were �just friends.�� One of the Winner�s daughters kept telling
her father that Quatre was just sensitive to things like his mother and Trowa
was his first real friend.� Mr. Winner
relented for the time being.� These were
still woman�s matters, but their insistence made him suspicious of what was
between his only son and the bodyguard.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Trowa was released and sent back to
the Winner estate after a little more than a week.� He was finally able to move around on his own
again without worry of either the nurses or Quatre.� The surgery and drugs had left him weak but
he�d demanded more control over his pain medication and he felt much better for
it.� Sure his chest ached more, but his
head was clearer and that was far more important to him.� Quatre still sat with him in Trowa�s bedroom,
but rather than stay next to the bed, he�d sit at the desk.� Quatre was young, but he was a genius and he
had a great deal of work to do for his father�s investment company.� He had a knack for digging into people and
companies to determine where the Winner family should invest portions of their
fortune.

The first night back at the mansion
was a disaster.� Quatre returned to his
own room to sleep, but that proved impossible without Trowa�s quiet breathing
and warm hand.� He tossed and turned
until the sheets were an ugly mess the maids would have a hard time sorting
out.� Trowa couldn�t sleep either without
the little blond and he soon gave up.�
Instead he chose to sit up and read through the numerous security
reports left for him.� He sat in bed,
propped up against the headboard with pillows and a pile of papers in his lap.

A soft knocking
on the door made Trowa look up.�
Quatre was standing there looking a little sheepish.� �I saw your light on.� I can�t sleep either.� Can I� can I stay in here?� With you� just for a
while?�

Trowa was a little surprised to see
Quatre look so unsure of himself.� He had
to remind himself that Quatre was still a boy, young, and he�d probably been
raised to be the business entrepreneur he was now.� Trowa doubted Quatre had ever walked into his
father�s bedroom, scared and asking to sleep in his bed.� It was even less likely he�d gone to his mother�s
room since she had little to no contact with her son, forced instead to stay
with her daughters and the daughters from Mr. Winner�s previous marriages.� It was a woman�s place to raise their
daughters and not her place to raise their son according to Mr. Winner.

Trowa leaned over to put his
reports on the bedside table and winced as the stitches in his chest
pulled.� Quatre was beside the bed in an
instant, but Trowa cut him off before he could start in with questions.� �I just pulled my stitches.� I�m fine.�
Now get in the bed so we can get some sleep.� Coming home took it out of me and I need some
rest with my blond angel.�� Trowa was a
little shocked at the pet name, but the pretty blush on Quatre�s cheeks as he
climbed into the large bed made him want to say more.� It was unusual and awkward for him to say
such personal and sweet things, but part of him wanted to do anything to make
Quatre happy.� �After I was shot,� Quatre
froze as he settled into the bed, �while I was bleeding and while I was in
surgery, I thought I was being watched by an angel and when I woke up, he was
holding my hand and still watching over me.�

On a whim, Quatre leaned over and
kissed Trowa�s cheek lightly.� Quatre was
surprised to hear Trowa call him an angel, but it was a nice thought.� �Good night, Trowa.�� He settled into the soft, Trowa-scented
pillows and easily drifted off to sleep with his fingers laced with Trowa�s as
they had been in the hospital.

Their lives returned to the way
they had been before that disaster of an awards dinner.� Trowa�s chest healed and eventually the
stitches were removed.� The bullet had
easily been removed, but it left a scar that would remain over his heart for
the rest of his life.

As they spent even more time
together, Trowa realized how much he looked forward to his now customary
goodnight kiss on the cheek and the cuddling blond who kept sharing his
bed.� They would always start the night
trying to sleeping apart, but inevitably, Quatre would thrash in bed until he
and his silk pajamas would slip into the other room where they pressed against Trowa
in his sweats and t-shirt.� The feeling
became Trowa�s dirty little pleasure and he always made sure to be up and out
of bed before waking the blond for the day. �He didn�t want Quatre to know that they would
end up cuddled against each other in the night. �Quatre would return to his room, sleepy-eyed, so
he could prepare for the day without knowing how he spent his nights against
Trowa�s body.

It was late one night when Trowa
finally voiced his knowledge of Quatre�s secret.� That knowledge had spurned Trowa�s own dark
secret of desire that had grown in the night while Quatre was cuddled against
him.� �Quatre,� the blond paused at his
work to look up at Trowa.� They were
comfortably working in Quatre�s office as the setting sun turned everything in
the room red.� Trowa shifted in his seat
at a small side table before continuing.�
�As part of my job, I searched your room�� Trowa seemed to lose steam as
Quatre closed in on himself, but he continued.� �I saw what�s in the back of your closet and
I wanted to ask,� Trowa stared at his hands where they clenched a handful of
reports, �can I see you� like that?�
Please?�

The anger and shame drain out of
Quatre.� Trowa wasn�t making fun of him,
wasn�t threatening to tell his father if Quatre didn�t get rid of the
stuff.� Trowa wasn�t rejecting him,
wasn�t disgusted.� Trowa to see what
Quatre looked like and he sounded embarrassed about that desire.� Could Trowa be interested in him� and his secret?�
Quatre found himself nodding and agreeing to show Trowa later that
night.� It would be an interesting night
that could make all the difference between an heir and a bodyguard.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

puck_the_elf: I�m still interested in a canon
beta.� Zechs will probably be the one
Wufei�s more involved with just because Treize is busy.� E-mail if you�re still interested in the job.

twilight: I sent you an email.� Hopefully updates will come faster.
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Voice of Death