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In the End	By : Switchblade003 Category: Gundam Wing/AC > General Views: 516 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 1-In the End
- 1
Disclaimer: New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing and all affiliated characters are property of Shin Kidousenki and Bandai, Setsu Agency. "In the End" was written by Chester Bennington and Mike Shinoda and is property copyright of Linkin Park, Warner Bros. Records Inc., an AOL Time-Warner subsidiary.

Title: In the End

Author: Switchblade003

Pairing(s): Who do I ever write about??

Warning(s): Angst, blood, sharp objects, Sad Chester�

Rating: NC-17 (might be sex-related, might not be)

Archive: Unpublished

Notes: Linkin Park is the best band in existence. This is one of those old fics I found. It was incomplete until today. See what you think?

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It starts with

One thing/ I don�t know why

It doesn�t even matter how hard you try

Keep that in mind/ I designed this rhyme

To explain in due time

All I know

In a dimly lit room inside the Cinq Palace, a young boy bowed his head over the ivory keys of a piano as his melancholy tune drew to a close, and drops of liquid crystal cascaded down his cheeks to land at the talented hands that had once piloted the most powerful mobile suit in existence. The silence of the room grew oppressive as the child sat at the beautifully carved grand piano, and luminous turquoise eyes that would once have been delighted in the craftsmanship of the instrument now gazed blankly at pale hands resting on the keys, skilled beyond their years.

A bitter smile took the boy�s rosebud lips and he gritted his teeth against the stinging of tears in his eyes, fighting them back, his entire lithe frame shaking violently. Those hands had killed, had taken the life of so many innocents, and his own partner. Those hands had programmed and created the Zero System which had driven him insane, and they had piloted the mobile suit that had wiped out an entire colony.

Quatre felt the sob building in his throat, and he let it out, unleashing his tears and collapsing onto the piano before him. He wept soundly into the folds of his arms, hot salty rivulets of water hitting the mahogany surface of the instrument under him and pooling there. The boy lay one flushed cheek to the now damp wood under him and reached up one trembling hand to pull back the sleeve of his school uniform, exposing the pale alabaster of his wrist. The delicate flesh was marred with jagged slash marks, now fading. The skin itself was an irritated pink in color, and the wounds stood out a stark crimson.

It would be safe to cut again tonight, he thought through his tears. He never cut deeply enough to harm himself, but he did leave behind the telltale marks of the razor blade that he drew skillfully across his own wrist so often. Granted, it was quite painful, but not nearly as intense and agonizing as the nightmares he had at night, the flashbacks of what he had done to his friend� The cutting took his mind off of it. It was his only release.

Time is a valuable thing

Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings

Watch it count down to the end of the day

The clock ticks life away

It�s so unreal

Scarlet ran down the pale skin in thin, glistening trails, hitting the cool white tiles of the bathroom floor in grotesquely artistic patterns. Dazed sea-green eyes studied the growing pools of sanguine liquid on the floor by the dim lighting, watched in morbid fascination as it seeped from his veins and out of his body. Throwing back his thick mane of platinum blonde hair, the boy let his eyes fall closed and he concentrated on his own heartbeat, felt the blood pulsing through him in strong, steady intervals.

But even the jagged slashes on his wrists and the crimson pooling between his knees where he knelt on the floor were not enough to keep his mind from the source of his pain. He sighed shakily as olive-green eyes clouded his mind, and that gentle, low tenor. I just hope something triggers your mind and calms you down� something. Quatre shook his head slowly, whispering into the empty room around him. "Trowa� I�m so sorry�"

The Arabian sagged forwards, chewing his lower lip softly, looking down at the scarlet blood that stained the once immaculate white tiles. He�d have to clean that up later on, before someone found it and got suspicious. The last thing he needed was having Lieutenant Noin put him on a suicide watch�

The boy got to his feet clumsily, and fumbled around in the medicine cabinet for a sterile dressing of some kind. He hadn�t meant to draw that much blood, as normally his self-inflicted wounds did not require bandaging. He ripped open a package of gauze with his teeth and pressed the woven cloth to the cuts, then secured the dressing with medical tape. He�d have to keep his sleeves down for a few weeks now, or someone would notice.

Great. You�ve gone and complicated things, Quatre. He made his way to his bed and flopped down on his back, then changed his mind and curled into a ball on his side. Knees pulled against his bare chest, he fell into a fitful sleep, no better off than he had been earlier.

Didn�t look out below

Watch the time go right out the window

Trying to hold on/ but didn�t even know

Wasted it all just to

Watch you go

Well, I guess old habits die hard. Quatre sighed as he gritted his teeth and drew his razor blade across his arm. The flesh over the main vein in his wrist was already badly scarred, so he�d taken to cutting closer to the inside of his elbow. The Sandrock pilot was inside one of the many empty corridors inside the huge battleship Peacemillion, floating a few feet from the nearest bulkhead. It had been months since hbeenbeen in the Cinq Kingdom, and they had finally found Trowa.

Alive, intact, but with no memory at first, he had recovered from his amnesia after a bout with the Zero System, and he also sed sed to tell the others what he had seen to trigger his memory. He also seemed less than interested in anything but his Gundam, and Quatre had concealed the fact that he had been hurt by Trowa�s apparent apathy towards him. But inside, it gnawed at him terribly, and one day he�d taken out his razor again.

I�ve always wondered what it would look like in zero-G, he thought to himself. The blonde watched curiously as his blood formed small scarlet blotches that floated off from his arm of their own volition. It would definitely take some effort to clean it up, but it was worth it for the entertainment factor, he decided. He pulled his flight-suit�s sleeve up a bit further and looked for another good place to cut, and suddenly there was a very strong hand gripping the wrist with the razor, and one lithe arm around his waist, holding him still.

He gasped as a lean body pressed against him from behind, and immediately he began to struggle against his captor. "Let me go!" His feeble protests went unnoticed however, as the person behind him only tightened his grip, and Quatre gave up after a moment. He let his head sag forward and he sighed in defeat. "Okay, you can let me go�"

But the arms did not loosen, and Quatre began to squirm uncomfortably. He wasn�t all-too-sure who it was that had caught him, but he figured it to be one of the other pilots. Perhaps Wufei, or even Heero. He definitely didn�t think Duo would have sneaked up on him like, because he knew that the Deathscythe pilot also cut himself, almost religiously. "Little One?"

The Arabian�s entire body went wire-tight at the low tenor at his ear, his teal eyes growing wide in horror. No, this isn�t happening, his mind screamed at him. Allah, please let me be imagining things� But the voice came again, an undne one of anger in it, and Quatre felt his heart drop straight to his groin. "What do you think you�re doing, Little One?" Soft, but demanding, and Trowa absolutely refused to get irate with him. It was enough to make him sick.

I kept everything inside and even though I tried/ It all fell apart

What it meant to me/ Will eventually/ Be a memory/ Of a time when

I tried so hard

And got so far

But in the end

It doesn�t even matter

"Why the hell do you care?" he muttered quietly, and the boy behind him loosened his hold around his slim waist slightly. "You barely even acknowledge my presence anymore, so why was I to think that you�d care about my� extracurricular activities," he spat out wryly. Trowa remained silent and still for a moment, and then he let go of Quatre�s wrist. The blonde considered attempting to fight his former partner off with the blade he still held, but that idea was quickly discouraged as Trowa knocked the razor from his grasp and sent it spinning into free fall.

The Arabian was becoming angrier by the minute, and his rage ignited as the Heavyarms pilot suddenly reached up and got his hand around the younger boy�s slender throat, holding him roughly. Quatre felt the vertebrae in his neck crack sickeningly as his head was forced back with a force he�d never seen from the normally stoic pilot.

Fear was the next thing Quatre registered after pain, and he was too shocked at the Latin youth�s vicious behavior to even struggle against the strong arms which held him uncomfortably. He could hear Trowa�s breathing picking up, and from the low growl he was making, he had definitely struck a chord somewhere within the young man that had infuriated him to an act of violence, and suddenly the Winner heir was very afraid that he�d provoked Trowa to the breaking point.

"How dare you," he said in a low, furious voice that sent chills down Quatre�s abused spine. "You think this is easy for me? Do you think I enjoy avoiding you?" Theer ber boy hissed and pulled the blonde orphan more tightly against him, not raising his voice above a whisper, and the child winced as his neck was again forced back. A fraction of an inch more and Trowa would snap the delicate vertebrae.

"I avoid you because I don�t know how I�m supposed ct act around you," he admitted, his voice softening ever so slightly. Quatre�s eyes grew wide once more, and the Arabian choked suddenly on the gasp he�d given. Trowa�s grip immediately loosened somewhat, but not enough for the blonde�s liking. "The Zero showed me things that I didn�t remember, and when I was finally able to, those things scared me, Quatre." The younger boy whimpered as the pressure on his throat began to hurt.

"Are you scared now, Quatre?" Trowa breathed into his ear. He nodded as best as he could, gasping for breathe. "Is this what you wanted? You wanted to die?" With a strangled sob, the Sandrock pilot shook his head frantically. "Then why were you cutting yourself?" Quatre tried to answer, but all he managed was a cough, and the taller pilot realized that he�d have to ease up his grip for a response to be possible.

I had to fall

To lose it all

But in the end

It doesn�t even matter

The vice-like grip around his throat ceased instantly, Trowa�s hand dropping to slip around the blonde�s waist. Between gasps for air, Quatre choked out words that he could barely keep in order. "It hurts, Trowa�" he whispered. "You were my best friend before, and now you act as if you can�t stand me. I cut because it takes the pain away. It helps me to forget�"

The desert-bred youth dropped his head and let his eyes fall closed as he swallowed hard, his heart slowing from its fast pace into a more normal one. "It helps me to forget that you don�t care about me anymore, Trowa." The young man behind him said nothing, simply kept his arms around Quatre�s slim waist and sighed. The blue-eyed child whimpered softly again, shame running through him bone deep.

"You�d scar this beautiful body because you think that I don�t care about you anymore?" Trowa asked softly. The smaller boy nodded his head miserably. This was it� everything was out in the open now� almost. Quatre had neglected to mention that his feelings for his ex-partner had been growing far beyond the bounds of friendship, but he was sure that it didn�t matter anyway.

And again, Trowa shocked him when he laughed lightly from behind him. Tears stung the Sandrock pilot�s eyes as he heard this, and once more he began to struggle against the arms which held him. "Stop it, Little One." This only served to further anger the child, and he twisted with more force, tensing against the older boy.

"Quatre, I care about you more than even I can understand," Trowa said softly. The Winner heir quit struggling then, and simply froze for a moment, letting his companion�s words sink in. So he did care after all� "I avoid you because I don�t understand what I feel, and I don�t like that�" The blonde boy sighed as he remember how out-of-touch Trowa was with his own emotions. It made sense that these new feelings of concern for someone would confuse him.

Quatre let his head fall back as the Latin youth laid his forehead to the smaller boy�s shoulder, continuing to explain himself in his quiet tenor. "I don�t want you to hurt yourself anymore, Little One. I�ll quit avoiding you�" he sighed, angry with himself for being so weak. "Please just explain to me why I feel this."

One thing/ I don�t know why

It doesn�t even matter how hard you try

Keep in mind/ I designed this rhyme

To remind myself how

I tried so hard

At that softly spoken admission, Quatre felt the last traces of anger and sadness seep from his body, and he sighed deeply. He reached up his uninjured arm to hold Trowa�s head to his shoulder reassuringly, leaning his own head against the brunette�s. The taller pilot gave a soft whimper. "I�m sorry, but I don�t understand�" The Arabian nodded, running his fingers through his partner�s short auburn hair. He had never stopped to think that perhaps his friend was confused, or scared�

The very idea of Trowa being anything but fearless and suicidally brave seemed absurd until right then, when he was standing there with his best friend on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He might have been the best damned pilot that Quatre knew, but as far as understanding his own emotions, it was like dealing with a small child.

And suddenly, Quatre was the voice of reason in an awkward situation where Trowa became the confused one. "I think we should go someplace� more private," the blonde said gently, and Trowa pulled away from him a little ways, nodding. The younger boy was stunned at the absence of his friend�s usual stoic non-expression, and its replacement of trepidation. He offered the Heavyarms pilot a small smile and gently removed his arms from around his waist, taking his hand and speaking again.

"Where would you like to go?" he inquired softly. Trowa considered this for a minute, then pulled the child after him as he bounced off a bulkhead and floated down the corridor.

In spite of the way you were mocking me

Acting like I was part of your property

Remembering all the times you fought with me/ I�m surprised

It got so [far]

"Sorry, it�s a wreck in here," Trowa said in his quiet tenor, as he sat down on the edge of his bunk. The room was small, with only a desk and chair as furniture besides the bed, and Quatre�s eyes fell on the clothes strewn about the floor, spare suit parts littering the carpet. Luckily, the gravity mechanisms functioned in the living quarters, so they were able to move normally.

Besides the glowing green monitor of the comlink at the desk, there was no other light source for the room, but the Arabian didn�t mind. His friend seemed a lot more comfortable here than he had in the florescent lighting of the corridor earlier. The blonde sat down beside the Heavyarms pilot and sighed.

"So do you want to talk about all this?" the smaller pilot asked coaxingly. Trowa nodded and lay back on his bunk, folding his arms under his head and staring up at the metal ceiling. Quatre reclined himself on his side, propped up on his elbow so that he could look down at his friend. Trunerunette looked over at him, green eyes unreadable, and then they narrowed abruptly, and he reached over to take the child�s wrist in his hand, gently this time.

"What�?" The blonde remembered then about the cut across his arm and he sighed. "Don�t worry about it," he said, but Trowa ignored it and pressed his palm over the cut, checking to see if the blood flow had stopped. He seemed satisfied that it had, and let go of the boy�s arm.

"Quatre, why do you care about me so much?" he asked softly. The Arabian shrugged, fidgeting with the dark blue bedsheet under them.

"I�m not entirely sure," ans answered truthfully. "I just know that you�re my best friend, Trowa. I trust you." Trowa nodded slowly, turning this over in his head.

His handsome face clouded with more confusion. "But why do I care about you? I mean�" he looked away, up at the ceiling once more. "I care about Duo, and Heero, and Wufei� But I care about you� in a different way, Quatre."

The younger pilot arched an elegant eyebrow at this, and he immediately suppressed the hope he felt building in his chest. "What do you mean?"

Things aren�t the way they were before

You wouldn�t even recognize me anymore

Not that you knew me back then

But it all comes back to me

In the end

Trowa closed his luminous verdant eyes and sighed, shaking his head. "I look at the others, and I see friends� comrades in arms�" His eyes came open and he looked over at Quatre. He looked very distressed. "I look at you, Quatre, and I see�" His voice faltered, and he turned away from his partner.

The blue-eyed boy leaned over his friend and took his chin once more, gently turning Trowa�s face so that he could look at him. "What, Trowa?" he gently. "What do you see when you look at me?"

Beautiful green eyes slid closed, and Trowa forced his answer past his lips as if it pained him to say it. "Someone that I�m falling for." Quatre�s eyebrows shot up, and he gasped softly. The Heavyarms pilot shook his head and rolled onto his side, turning away from the stunned Arabian.

Quatre had definitely not been expecting that. He sat back on his heels on the bed, looking down at the boy curled up beside him, and he sighed. "Trowa�" He reached over to put his hand to the pilot�s shoulder, but the Latin youth recoiled.

Steeling his resolve, the Sandrock pilot took Trowa�s shoulder and rolled him onto his back, cupping his hand to his friend�s cheek and leaning down to press his lips to the other boy�s in a hesitant, chaste kiss.

You kept everything inside and even though I tried/ It all fell apart

What it meant to me will eventually/ Become a memory/ Of a time when

I tried so hard

And got so far

But in the end

It doesn�t even matter

Astonished emerald eyes stared up into sapphire ones, and then Quatre closed his eyes and firmed his kiss. Trowa lay under him, not quite sure how to respond, but he didn�t let this discourage him. The Arabian slipped one arm under the strong column of Trowa�s neck and stroked his thumb over the pilot�s high cheekbone, and finally the Latin youth responded.

Trowa slipped his arms around the boy above him and returned his gentle caresses with more passionate ones of his own, running the tip of his tongue along the curve of Quatre�s lips, and the blonde parted them submissively. He stiffened slightly in Trowa�s arms as the boy�s tongue touched his tentatively, but stroked back softly, his confidence mounting.

They pulled away after a few heartbeats, both panting from lack of air, and stared at one another silently. Trowa blinked dazedly, running his tongue over his lower lip experimentally, and Quatre smiled shyly, lowering his eyes, his cheeks flushed crimson. "I take it you�ve had practice at this?" Trowa asked softly, a hint of teasing in his tenor. The blonde blushed darker.

The Heavyarms pilot laughed gently and reached up to brush haphazard bangs from demure blue eyes. "Hey," he said in a near-whisper, and Quatre looked up. Trowa was smiling, and his handsome face was flushed as well. "Don�t be embarrassed. That wasn�t bad at all."

Quatre gave him a small smile and leaned down to bury his nose in the warm alcove of Trowa�s throat. "Good, because that�s the first time I�ve done that."

Trowa gazed up at the blonde with an unreadable expression blazing in his bottle-green eyes. "It won�t be the last time, either."

With those soft words, the two pilots succumbed to the emotions flowing between them, and as Quatre lost himself in the sensory explosion that was his quiet partner, he idly reflected on his cutting habits, and the wry thought that he�d found a new release filtered through his mind before his attention was again diverted by warm lips and an even hotter desire for the youth beside him.

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In the End