Disclaimer:

I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters. I just love them to no end and have a very twisted imagination. Please be aware that I am extremely poor so suing me will do you no good. Thanks.

Warning: Lemon Yaoi / Explicit Language / Angst / Violence / AU / Mention of Death

Pairings: 2x4 / mention of 1x2 / 3+5 / 13+6 / possibly more

FYI: Inner thoughts -- [ Flashback ]

Synopsis:

Having closed himself off from a world that had offered him nothing but misery, Duo meets a young man that shows him once more that life is indeed worth living. Will Duo be able to embrace the chance he's been given by letting go of the past?

Author's Notes:

Where this little fic came from, I have no idea. I sat down determined to work on my WK fic and instead, another GW fic was born. It's based on a 2x4 pairing, a first for me. This fic will be sad, sappy, funny, and heart breaking at times for it'll be focused on real life, something we all know can suck as all hell. I have another one in the works, too, leaning more toward fantasy and the supernatural, that will someday get posted. For now though, please enjoy the prologue to my sappy but soon to be angst filled fic, Star Light, Star Bright.

Thanks again,

Forsaken

Star Light, Star Bright Prologue

Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight.

"Dammit," Quatre cursed, as he dropped one of the many books he was carrying. He bent over, determined to somehow pick the blasted book up, when suddenly the rest of the books within his arms went crashing onto the floor. Quatre closed his eyes in frustration. Man, I really don't need this right now. I just want to get home.

Lowering himself onto the cement floor, Quatre began to quickly stack the several books he'd just checked out of the school library. His blue-green eyes darted around him, as he tried to move as quickly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to run into Davis and his friends. He still had a nice bruise near his ribs from the last encounter he'd had with them.

Anger shot through Quatre at the thought of the embarrassment he'd experienced a few days ago. Why can't they just leave me alone? I never did 'anything' to them. Why the hell do they have to pick on me all of the time? Quatre sighed, knowing the answer. Because you're a wuss, Quatre. A wuss and gay -- And they all know it.

Books neatly stacked, Quatre picked them up. Just as he was beginning to stand, a hand reached out of nowhere and pushed him hard on his back, throwing him off balance. Unable to stop himself, Quatre went sprawling onto the cold floor, his books scattering all around him.

"Well, look who we have here, boys," a voice sneered. "If it isn't our friend, Quatre Raberba Winner."

Picking himself up onto his knees, Quatre closed his eyes in dread, his heart pounding against his chest. God, not again. He looked up and just plain wanted to cry like the wuss he'd been proclaimed to be, as Davis and all five of his friends stood before him. Shit. His eyes looked around in a panic, hoping that they weren't the only ones in the hallway and felt his heart sink and his insides churn when he saw how empty the area around him was. Fuck me.

"So, what are you doing here all by yourself, Winner?" Davis asked him, as the brunette kicked one of Quatre's books out of his way.

Quatre swallowed as he stood. "N . . . N . . . Nothing, Davis." Quatre's hands fisted at his sides, as laughter began to echo along the hallway.

"N . . . N . . . Nothing, Quatre?" Davis taunted him with a laugh, making fun of Quatre's stutter, as he pushed the blonde against the nearby wall of lockers.

Quatre's eyes narrowed, feeling the now familiar mix of anger and humiliation as he was made fun of. He was getting so sick and tired of this. For three months now, he'd tolerated the taunting and degrading comments thrown at him and he honest to God didn't know if he could take much more of the verbal and at times physical abuse. Having grown up very sheltered, in a home lacking any show of warmth or love, Quatre had thought moving into the dorms for his first semester in college would've been a refreshing change for him, opening him up to a world full of new and wonderful experiences. But now, as he stood once again in front of the group who had taken it upon themselves to become his daily tormentors, Quatre realized how much of a fool he'd been. How could he have been so naive to think that his life would've changed for the better? Hadn't he learned by now that he was destined for misery, for loneliness and despair? When would he ever learn his insignificant place in life?

"Hey Davis," a blonde called out from amongst the group. "He's looking at you all funny. I think he's got a crush on you."

Quatre shook his head fervently as Davis' eyes hardened, boring into his own.

"Is that true, Winner?" Davis asked, bringing a large hand around Quatre's neck, pushing his head harshly against the lockers. "Do you find me attractive . . . Quatre?"

Blue-green eyes widened at the malicious glint whirling with the dark brown eyes looking intently down at him. Once again, Quatre shook his head. "N . . . No, Davis. I wa . . . wasn't."

Once again laughter broke out around him and Quatre cursed his inability to speak clearly. His stutter was growing more pronounced by the minute; being scared shitless wasn't helping matters either. Shit, how am I going to get myself out of this? Quatre asked himself, panic beginning to grip him, as Davis began to lean closer into him. At least, on the previous occasions that he'd run into the brunette and his followers, Quatre had been in public and so his abuse had been humiliating but, for the most part, tempered. But now, as he stood pressed in between the wall and Davis' long length, Quatre realized just how vulnerable he really was - just how cornered he had become.

"You know boys," Davis announced, his finger trailing slowly down Quatre's pale cheek, "I think I'm in the mood for something different today."

Snickers could be heard in the background, as Davis inched ever closer. Quatre's breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound against his chest, as fear of the likes he'd never known washed over him, his mind registering the meaning behind Davis' words. Oh, God. Please, no. Quatre's eyes darted around him, his mind searching for a route of escape.

"Don't even try," Davis whispered into his ear, sending shivers of disgust up Quatre's spine. "No one's around to help you, Quatre. No one."

Davis' tongue shot out, trailing a hot slicked path along his earlobe and Quatre moved his head away, his hands coming up automatically to push the other man away from him.

"Oh, but I don't think so," Davis replied, just before his hands grabbed Quatre's wrists in an unbreakable hold, ramming them into the wall of lockers behind him, trapping them on either side of Quatre's terrified face.

"N . . . No, please D . . . Da . . . Davis!" he begged, shear panic now ruling him. God, he just couldn't get the words out anymore. His throat was closing itself off, making it impossible for him to speak.

"Why are you scared, Quatre? I thought you liked men?" Davis asked.

The hand that had been wrapped around Quatre's throat lightly moved slowly downward, skimming his heaving chest and quivering stomach, until it settled onto the material covering his flaccid penis. Quatre whimpered and closed his eyes. Dammit, someone help me! Help me!

"Shit," cursed Duo under his panting breath, as he continued his run around the gym. His ankle was giving him problems again and Duo wanted to scream in frustration. He stopped running, placing his hands over his bent knees, trying to catch his breath. Dammit, when the hell are you going to stop hurting like a bitch? he demanded silently of his throbbing ankle.

Sweat beaded down his forehead and Duo ran a warm hand across it, wiping the annoying liquid practically pouring out of him. Fuck. Aside from his ankle bothering him to no end on a daily basis, his exhaustion after only a few laps around the large gym was enough to prove to Duo that he was still not up to par. Almost eight months! Eight months! And I still can't get back to the way I was before. . . .

Duo's brow furrowed, his violet eyes growing distant, as the hurtful memory of his accident came back full force to him. He dropped himself onto the glossy floor and stared at his reflection on the polished wood, lost yet again in the remembrance of the one event in his life that had changed him forever.

[ "Heeeeeroooo, come on. Let me drive," Duo begged his boyfriend, putting everything he had into his pout.

Heero smirked, his eyes kept deftly on the road. "Not in this lifetime, Duo. Last time I let you drive, you dented my car. No way in hell am I going to be that foolish again. So deal with it."

Duo crossed his arms in exasperation. "How the hell am I going to learn how to drive properly if you don't let me get in a little practice?"

"That's what driving schools are for, Duo. Destroy one of their vehicles."

Duo rolled his eyes. "You soooo exaggerate. I'm not 'that' bad." Heero gave him a yeah-right look and Duo couldn't help but feel insulted. "I'm not, dammit. I just get a little nervous is all ---- which is perfectly understandable."

Heero sighed a moment before he pulled over on the side of the road. Duo whooped, having obviously won their battle of wills and immediately crushed his lips against the brunette's. After a long while, Heero broke the kiss and opened the car door.

"Hurry up before I change my mind," Heero stated gruffly.

More than happy to comply, Duo moved over to the driver seat, sliding his seatbelt over his shoulder and fastening it, and waited impatiently for Heero to walk over to the passenger side of the car and sit down. Once Heero was settled, Duo carefully checked his mirrors, put on his signal light and pulled back onto the road.

From the corner of his eye, Duo could see how stiffly Heero sat next to him. But instead of being affronted by his lover's obvious lack of faith in his driving skills, Duo smiled with merriment. At least, he's giving me the benefit of the doubt, he thought to himself. "Relax, Heero. I know what I'm doing."

Heero nodded. "I know."

"So what's the problem?" Duo asked, somehow sensing that something other than his inexperience behind the wheel was bothering his sometimes exasperating boyfriend. A sigh escaped Heero's chiseled lips and Duo frowned in concern. "Well, you gonna answer me?" He felt Heero's dark blue gaze upon him and waited for the other man to respond.

"I'm nervous, I guess," Heero replied hesitantly.

Duo's eyes widened. Heero? Nervous? Holy shit! Miracles did indeed still happen. Wait a minute, he thought, pausing his mental tirade in order to think. What the hell was Heero nervous about? Did it have to do with him, with their relationship? Was it good or was it bad? Shit . . . "About what?"

Heero shifted in his seat and Duo's hands gripped the steering wheel even harder. Oh, God. Was Heero breaking up with him? Was he ----

"Duo?"

Duo swallowed. "Yeah?"

"I'd really like it if you'd consider . . . If you'd accept to . . ." Heero paused and took a deep breath, "If you'd agree to move in with me."

Duo's violet eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. "What?!"

"I said ----"

"I know what you said," Duo declared loudly, his face breaking into a huge smile. "Are you serious? You really want to move in together? This isn't some kind of sick joke that I would eventually have to kick your ass for making?" His heart was hammering in his chest and a feeling of pure joy was dancing along his veins, making Duo almost too excited to even speak. Holy shit! Another miracle!

"No, it's not a joke," said Heero, chuckling. He reached out and ran a hand gently down Duo's now tear stained face, wiping the soft damp skin with a soft stroke of his thumb. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

Coming to a stop light, Duo looked over at Heero and smiled, leaning into his lover's hand. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

Heero smiled and was about to say something when a bright light cascaded over them from the passenger side of the car. Duo looked passed Heero to the passenger side window and then . . . there was nothing. ]

Wiping the tears from his face, Duo took in a shaky breath and covered his wet eyes with his palms. Dammit, he cursed, hating himself for dwelling on the past again, a past that couldn't be changed no matter how much he wanted it to. Heero was gone, killed in a senseless accident that had nearly left Duo without the use of his right leg. Duo sighed, his finger tracing the pinkish scar that wove an angry path from his ankle up to his inner thigh. There was no changing what had happened. But, Duo told himself, taking a fortifying breath, I can do something about this goddamn leg of mine.

Duo stood up and winced, as streaks of pain raced around his ankle and ran up to his thigh. Damn, he shouldn't have sat down for so long without stretching first. Idiot. He shook off his leg, willing the pain away and began to slowly stretch. A loud thud coming from the direction of the hallway just outside of the gymnasium doors had Duo frowning. Another thud, clearly made against the lockers, followed by a pained whimper had Duo straightening and moving toward the ajar doors, his stretching exercises suddenly forgotten. What the fuck is going on?

Determined to find out, Duo trekked across the burnished wooden floor and headed unknowingly toward his destiny.

TBC. . . .

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