Why Does it Hurt So Much?

A Gundam Wing fanfic by Scheherazade

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or their world. Gundam Wing belongs to Sotusu, Sunrise, and Bandi. I mean no harm with this fanwork.

Warnings: angst and shonen-ai

Pairings: 5+4, 4+3

Archive: at my site- https://www.angelfire.com/anime2/scheherazade --Anywhere else just ask me!

E-mail: Alicit@aol.com

C&C: PLEASE! If only just to say you read it... I don’t care! Flame me! Anything just let me know that someone’s reading this stuff... *feeling invisible*

Notes: Well, I’m supposed to be working on A Well Bred Young Man, but this idea came to me when I was sick (too much horseradish at Passover -- 4:1 horseradish:matzo ratio = upset tummy) and I wrote it within 24 hours! *is very proud* but I’m only now sending it out *slacks* also, Genji commented on this being a ‘weepy Quatre’ but I was trying to make him more of a ‘on the verge of a mental breakdown Quatre’…

"..." <---Speech

//...//<---Wufei’s thoughts

~*~*~

Wufei leaned back against the hard kitchen chair he was seated in. It had been past midnight when he had gotten back to the current safe-house from his mission and he had yet to eat anything all day. Idly watching the steam evaporate from the water he was boiling for tea and instant miso soup, he wondered if any of the other pilots were awake and wanted to join him. Unconsciously hoping that it would be the endlessly talking Duo or the companionable Quatre as opposed to the stoic pilots of Wing and Heavyarms, he passed through the partition that separated the small kitchen from the common room that housed a couch, two mismatched armchairs and a low table for dining.

Two obsidian eyes scanned the darkened room for signs of life. The figure of the blonde Arab was stretched out on the old couch, apparently asleep. Wufei turned on his heels softly so as to not wake the boy. Unfortunately, he stepped on a loose floorboard in his retreat that let out a protesting squeak. Quatre’s form let out a shuddering sigh and Wufei froze in place. There was no sound as the pilot of Nataku looked back at the pale figure. He was turned away from Wufei, his face hidden, pointing into the back of the sofa that faced the doorway. The soft voice of the prone figure broke the silence.

"What right have we?"

Wufei stared, confused at his comrade’s words. Quatre, seemingly unfazed by the other boy’s lack of response, continued.

"What right have we to take life? I know we’re fighting for a ‘just’ cause, but it seems so empty compared to what is lost. I’ve thought of it before, but I was thinking of it now and I realized that... that I..." A small sob broke the blonde’s voice, but he ignored it. "I lost count -- of how many people I killed. How many lives have been lost because of me?" The statement became a question as another sob eked out of the still form.

//I lost count a long time ago. Any soldier who can keep a toll of those who have died deserves the highest respect. If any such man exists.//

Wufei walked over to the armchair nearest to him, not daring to speak but supporting the other boy with his presence.

"All of us... We five are damned to the deepest pits of Hell for all we’ve done. We’re cold-blooded murderers! And what makes it us and not them? What fate gave us this power as opposed to someone else?"

//I wish that it were someone else. Oh, Quatre, I understand your pain. But it is our duty to do this, to take this road that was given to us, no matter how bloodied we get.//

"Don’t you get tired of it? Don’t you ever want to give up?"

//If we give up, all is lost.//

"It’s... It’s so hard sometimes… to go on like this… to keep fighting..." Bitter tears could be heard, clouding the voice of the still unmoved Sandrock pilot.

//But we must keep fighting. Because our cause is righteous, we will win. Soon, soon it will end.//

Quatre’s soft sobs had progressed until he was barely able to press out words between them. "Can’t... anymore... Just gotta… end it... Soon. I... I... I." The Arab finally changed position so his face was buried in the worn cushion and he still had not turned to face the Shenlong pilot.

//He’s shielding his pain.// A look of realization washed over Wufei’s features. //He’s trying to hide his tears from me.// The Chinese boy’s face contorted to a mask of sympathetic anguish.

"I don’t want to live! But... I... don’t... want... to... to... to kill..." Every word of his last sentence was punctuated by a wrenching sob, as if to emphasize his point.

//It’s a necessary choice, between living and killing, in times like these. But kind people like you shouldn’t have to make it. I should fight to protect those who are kind like you.// Wufei reached out an lightly touched one shaking slim shoulder. Quatre seemed to be unable to speak any longer. //He must be suffering from exhaustion. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen him sleep. If he isn’t on a mission himself, he’s waiting for one of us to come back safely from ours, always worried. It must have been worse on him this time, with both Trowa and I gone. And Trowa hasn’t gotten home yet and probably won’t until morning. I should make Quatre get some sleep.// Wufei got up from his seat and moved to sit on the edge of the couch near Quatre’s waist. In an effort to calm the other boy’s sobs, he rubbed the blonde’s back with a firm hand in a circular motion.

Quatre’s sobs subsided and Wufei could feel the boy starting to slip into a healing sleep. "You are too kind, you didn’t have to stay and listen to me..." Quatre sighed before surrendering to the dark grasp of night.

A lump rose in Wufei’s throat as he finally broke his silence. "No, you do more for me than this, just by being there." He realized that Quatre was too deeply asleep to have possibly heard him, so Wufei decided to talk to him later. Smiling slightly, Wufei shifted the other boy so that he was lying on his back and wouldn’t smother himself accidentally once Wufei left.

The dim light from a streetlamp highlighted the peaceful tear-streaked face of Wufei’s companion and, on impulse, Wufei traced the line of Quatre’s jaw with his fingertips. The golden-haired boy sighed and leaned into the touch, which made Wufei smile and trace the pad of his thumb against the rosy mounds of his lips. They parted with a soft exhalation of breath and a word, spoken very quietly and reverently.

"Trowa..."

//It’s an honest mistake.//

//He never looked up... He could have thought I was him.//

//It could have happened at anytime, really, a mere accident of the wrong person hearing the wrong thing.//

//It’s my fault, I should have said something.//

//He never has to know... I just won’t say anything and hope he doesn’t say anything to Trowa about it.//

//Trowa really owes me for this... no, I wish he’d said it all for me... I think... I’d do it again, even knowing...//

//Oh God.//

//Why is this hurting so much?//

~owari~