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Dream	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 320 -:- 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-Dream
- 1
Dream

Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST...

Rating: R

Pairings: 3x4x3

Thanks to Kay for the beta, and
Anne and Bast
for comments along the way...

"What did you dream last night?"
she asks, as she does every morning when she comes to wake me.

I tell her that I dreamed of green, and
warmth. I dreamed of floating and being surrounded by the green, drifting but
not adrift. She makes careful notes on her charts, as always, and gives me
breakfast.

I am curious to know why she needs my dreams,
but she never tells me. She only asks if I remember anything else, and when I
tell her no, she leaves me alone again.

I don�t know why I dream of color, there is
so little of it here. Only white walls and dull silver surround me, monochrome
life -colored dreams. Again, I wonder who I am�

I ask her the next morning, but her only
answer, same as always: "What did you dream last night?"

I tell her of music, high like the strains
she identifies as birdsong that I only hear muffled from behind the heavily
shrouded windows. But this music speaks to me more than the foreign language of
those creatures that I cannot see. This music calls to me in a way I have no
words to explain � rich, complex, mysterious � layers that spiral around and
bring me to the same point again and again. This music knows me, and I wish I
could answer it.

"Anything else?"

Green, green, I tell her. And she leaves.

The following morning, my dreams have been
different. Her lips tighten and her eyes narrow as I tell her. I had something
like the wings on the birds she described, but silver, hard, and curved. Wings
torn from my back, I can feel them pulled from my body, dripping my life�s
blood as they go. And something sharp and cruel, cutting my spine loose from my
back, and it is wrenched from me, trailing nerves and sinew as it is ripped
away. And in the dream I still lived, powerless and un-whole. In the dream, I
did not scream, but I do now, and she gives me an injection before she steps
away.

I have no dreams that night. I want the green
back. I miss its warmth.

The next time I dream, the green has
returned, and with it, the softest touch I can imagine. It explores every
surface of my face, and I ache for it when I wake. When she touches me, she
never looks at me � it is always quick, and only when necessary. She pulls
away as if my flesh burns her. Maybe it does. But with the green, the touch
feels good and leaves me wanting more.

"Why do you look like that?" I ask,
because her lips are pulled down, and her eyes are wet. They leak, and trails
glisten down her cheeks. I did not know that water came from eyes, and I tell
her so.

"Never mind," she answers. "Do
you remember anything else?"

I don�t. But I think about that touch until
it is time to dream again.

I am not disappointed when I sleep, for the
green returns to me, as does the touch. This time, my entire body feels it. I am
hot where it meets my skin, and tingly where it trails away to another part of
me. I awake much earlier than usual, and there is a damp place on my sheets. I
do not know what to think of this � she had told me that I had my basic bodily
functions under control. She comes because she says I have cried out in my
sleep, but when she asks for this dream, I will not give it to her.

She keeps asking, but I will not tell, this
dream is mine.

I want something, I tell her later. She asks
me what, but I do not know. There has to be more than these white walls and dull
steel bed. I want what is outside the windows she keeps so carefully closed. She
makes that funny noise she so often does around me, like breathing, only
heavier. She tells me it is not time yet.

I wonder what time is.

I sleep, I dream. I eat the food she gives
me. I walk down the white halls with her at my side incase I fall. I do not fall
as often as I used to, and she says my legs are getting stronger. I did not know
that they were weak.

I dream of green, always green. Sometimes it
comes with the music, and sometimes with the touch. And sometimes I hear a
voice, as well, but the words are faint and never seem to reach me, even when I
feel the air of their passage against my ear.

One day, after I give her my dream of green
and a gentle hand holding my own, she brings another person to my white room. I
have never seen anyone but her, with her white coat and her hair pulled back
tight. He is dressed all in black, and something strange and long hangs down
from his head. She says his name is Duo, and she sits in the corner of the room
while we talk.

"What is my name?" I ask. The other
looks at me with wide-open eyes, and a choking noise jumps out of his throat.
His eyes make water, as well. Mine do not.

Neither of them speaks for a while, so I ask
him what is on his head. He holds it out to me, and asks if I want to touch it.
I do, and it feels like it�s made of very soft string. He calls it his braid.

"What is it made of?" I do not want
to let go; there are so few things to touch in this room. Only the smooth walls
and the cool bed frame. It is his hair, he tells me. My hair is not like that,
it is short and I can only see small bits of it hanging in front of my eyes. He
stays with me until I have to dream again, and holds my hand. I feel a strange
prickling inside my chest. She makes him leave because she says I am tired. I do
not feel tired, but I still dream.

"Why did I feel like that?" I ask
her the next morning.

"Like what?"

"When he was here, I felt full of
something that wasn�t mine." I touch my chest to show her where. She does
not answer, but instead asks me for my dream. The green was there, but also the
same shifting color that I found in Duo�s eyes. She tells me that it was blue.
And there was also a noise in my dreams, like the sound water makes when I let
it run over my flexing fingers into the sink and down the drain. This was
laughter, she says. The word is nice, but the sound was better.

She brings him again. I look forward to my
waking as much as my dreaming now. He says I must have been lonely here. I did
not know what loneliness was, but when he explains it to me, I agree. Duo tells
me of many things � trees, grass, and flowers. He speaks of wind and rain. And
the sun and moon and stars � I want to see these things. He tells me that
someday I will.

I always feel the same fullness when he is
with me. I ask him what it is and his face wrinkles. I wonder if his eyes will
leak again. He tells me that this is called crying, that the name of the water
is tears. And he says the feeling is my heart.

I start to dream of different things after he
visits. I am high in the air, looking down on all the things he tells me of.
These dreams are good. And still the green is with me.

I tell him of the green one day when he has
come, after his words have finally slowed enough for me to talk. When I do, a
sharp pain strikes my heart, and he looks away. He leaves quickly, and all he
will say to me is, "I�ll see what I can do."

Several more dreams pass before Duo comes
again. And when he does, I can hear him talking loudly with her outside my room.
She does not want to let him in; her voice is noisy enough to creep past my
closed door. She tells him that he will hinder my progress. He tells her I need
contact to be human. I wonder what I am now.

When she lets him in, he has something for
me. He tells me it is a present. My present squeaks and is fuzzy, soft and
yellow. And when he hands it to me, it looks at me with large green eyes. I like
it, but it is not my green. Duo calls it a kitten, and says now I won�t have
to be alone anymore.

She wants to take it away when it is time to
dream, but I won�t let her. It stays on my bed and dreams as well. I want to
know what it sees, but it can�t tell me.

Duo comes now after every time I dream. He
tells me often that he is trying, but it�s hard. He says not to get my hopes
up. I do not know what hope is. We play with the kitten, she never tires of
chasing string across my bed, or jumping on my toes when I wiggle them under the
blankets. Sometimes, Duo walks me down the hall for my exercise, and the kitten
runs along beside us. He wants me to name her, but how can I when I don�t have
a name?

The next time she comes for my dreams, I ask
her for her name. She tells me "Iria," but still will not tell me
mine. I must not have one. Perhaps names are only for things that are alive. Am
I alive?

I dream of green, but now the dreams make me
feel lonely. Something is missing, and I do not know what it is. Iria lets Duo
take me outside, and so much there is green, but it is not my green. But the
trees are good, and the wind is welcome on my face. He shows me flowers; I never
knew there were so many colors. I hope I can remember them all.

Duo brings someone new. He is tall, and his
brown hair covers most of his face. He slowly comes to my bedside, and looks
down at me without talking. I see his eyes, and I know I have found my green. I
am happy, and I reach for him, but he pulls away. "That�s not him!"
he tells Duo, and leaves. I can make tears, too. And once I start, I cannot
stop. Iria gives me an injection again, and I am left without even my dreams.

She does not let me see Duo for many days
after that. I cannot stop crying. I want to see the other so badly. When I dream
again, I am surrounded by black with small points of shining white. The green is
there, but I push it away. And I feel lost�

Duo comes and brings the other back.
"Just sit with him, Trowa, please!" he says. I say the name to myself
softly as he approaches. Trowa will not look at me - he plays with the kitten
instead.

"Please." I say to him, although I
do not know what I am asking for.

"You�re not him. Don�t ask me for
that, I can�t give it to you. It�s wrong for me even to be here."

"Who am I?"

He looks at me now, with those green eyes so
much colder than the green of my dreams. I feel the tightness in my chest, much
more than with Duo. I clutch at my heart and he looks away.

"You�ll never be him. You�ll never
be mine."

"I want�" I do not know what I
want. He laughs, but it is harsh, not like the rumbly noise that Duo makes. He
meets my eyes again, and reaches a hand to brush the dampness from my cheeks. I
must be crying again.

"I never could stand to see you sad,
Qua-" and then he stops and pulls away.

My face burns where he touched me, and I
reach for his hand. "Please!" I beg him, now. I don�t know what I
want, but I know I cannot bear for him to leave. My fingers close around his,
and he returns the grip so hard I can hear the bones in my hand grind together.

"I can�t! I want to, but you�ll
never be him! And every time I see you�" He falls towards the bed, and
rests his head on our joined hands. I feel wetness, and know he is crying, too.
"Why?" he asks me over and over. I run my other hand through his hair,
like I am petting the kitten. "Oh, God, please don�t. Don�t� I
can�t!" He raises his head to look at me and my hand strays to trace the
lines of his face, of his trembling lips. He rises, and I am afraid that he will
go, but instead he brings those lips to mine and I know the touch from my
dreams.

I know now what I wanted. But I think there
must be more. I try to ask him what more there could be, but with our mouths
pressed together, the only word that manages to escape is "more�"
His hand leaves mine to hold my face, and his tongue parts my lips. He touches
me on my shoulders, on my chest full of too many things. He strokes my hair and
I can taste his tears in my mouth. He pulls away with a noise nothing like
laughter and runs from the room.

I know what hope is, now. I hope I will see
Trowa again. I want to know why being with me hurts him so much. It felt like a
thousand of Iria�s needles were being plunged into my chest when he pulled
away. I don�t want to hurt him, but I feel so alone without him here.

I dream of Trowa. He holds my hand and his
lips touch mine. And when he draws back to look at me, he says my name.

I am excited to see Iria; I want to tell her
this dream. I smile as she sits beside me to collect it. "I know my name.
I�m Quatre." It feels good to have a name. Perhaps I can be human now.

"No." she tells me. "No, your
name is Cinq."

Trowa does not come. And my dreams are
colder. I dream of a painful rain, each drop piercing my skin. I hear Trowa
calling my name. Not the name she�s given me, but the name I know is mine. He
holds me and cries, he tells me not to leave. His voice follows me out of the
dream every night, and still he does not come.

The kitten grows. Duo is there, and I ask him
about Trowa. He says to give it some time. I ask him what time is. Duo says,
"Time is what makes kittens into cats." He laughs, but stops.
"Time is what the heart needs to heal."

"Is Trowa�s heart hurt?" I pet
the kitten and want it to be his hair under my hand instead.

Duo tells me yes. When I ask him how, he
tells me it is difficult to explain. Everything is difficult to explain to me,
it seems. "My name is Quatre, but don�t tell Iria, it makes her sad when
I say that."

"It makes me sad, too. Because it
isn�t true. And I wish it were." I wonder why everyone cries around me.

I dream of the rain again, and blood. The red
of it is everywhere � on Trowa�s hand as he touches me, on my hand when I
reach towards his face. I awake and it is dark. Trowa is there. "I can�t
leave you here. You wouldn�t have wanted this. It was wrong, and I�ve made
sure they can never do it again." He holds me tight and asks if I�ll
leave with him.

I laugh, for the first time. It feels much
better than crying. "Can I stay with you?" I feel his hurt when I say
this, but I feel the warmth from my dreams, too.

"I�ll never let you go again,
Quatre," he tells me. And I know it is true. And he shows me the stars.
- 1
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