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: NC-17 / 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 ]

Author''s Notes:

Hi, guys. Well, here''s the second installment to SLSB. It''s yet another angst-filled chapter, giving us more insight into our bishies'' pasts - not much, mind you, but just enough to give you a delightful taste.

Thanks to everyone for their wonderful comments on SLSB. I''m so glad to see that there are 2x4 fans out there just as fanatical as I am. Granted, 3x4 will remain to be my favorite pairing, but 2x4 definitely comes close. I''ll do my best to get chapter three out as soon as I can, but you know how RL and the ever picky muse can be. We''ll see how it goes.

Special thanks, as always, go out to my betas, Anney and Nev. *hugs*

Okay, that''s all for now. Enjoy the fic and please don''t forget to review!

Thanks,

Forsaken

Star Light, Star Bright

Trying to calm his nerves, Quatre walked up to the door to his room, as nonchalantly as he could. He reached into his pants pocket, retrieved his key, and began to unlock it, praying as he did so that the key wouldn''t fall out of his shaking hand. Once he managed to open the door, he stepped inside, followed closely by Duo, and walked toward his bed. Reaching out to his small night stand by the sole window in the room, Quatre turned on the small metallic lamp and winced as light flooded the room. Tired and in undeniable pain, he sat down on the bed with a relieved sigh; he was hurting everywhere it seemed.

Quatre looked up at his new friend, and gave the handsome youth a nervous smile. "Thank you so much, Duo. F . . . For everyth . . . thing," he said, wanting to kick himself, as his stutter reared its ugly head once more. Dammit! There I go again. He had to calm down, or he wouldn''t be able to talk at all. "I r . . . really appreciated it."

Duo sat down next to him and smiled. "No prob, Q. That''s what friends do. We look out for each other."

"Yes," Quatre responded, with another smile. "I g . . . guess I''m not really used to this." At Duo''s questioning look, Quatre grew even more nervous. "It''s just th . . . that I''ve n . . . never r . . . really had a fr . . . friend. This is all s . . . sort of n . . . new to me." At this point, Quatre wanted to scream in frustration, as his nerves took hold of him. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

Duo blinked at him for a few seconds. "Are you serious?"

Quatre swallowed and looked away, suddenly embarrassed. Oh, man. I should''ve kept my mouth shut. Now he thinks I''m pathetic. God, why did I say that? Knowing that he wouldn''t be able to speak, he simply nodded, a part of him ashamed of his admission. A warm hand covered his own, and Quatre looked up. His heart rate sped up and his mouth went dry, as his eyes locked onto Duo''s violet gaze.

"Don''t get embarrassed, Q," Duo told him, as if sensing his thoughts. "It''s tough being so isolated."

Quatre looked at Duo in surprise. How did he. . . .

Duo grinned and tilted his head a bit, causing his braid to fall over his shoulder. "Strict parents, right?"

Quatre nodded. "Yes, very strict. I pr . . . pretty much disowned m . . . myself by c . . . coming here."

"Man, I''m sorry to hear that, Q. It''s tough when you have to go against your own folks like that." Duo seemed to go pensive for a moment, before he turned to Quatre with a comforting smile. "But you''ve gotta do what you''ve gotta do, right?"

Smiling with more ease, Quatre once again nodded his head. "Right, but . . . ," Quatre swallowed, feeling the pain his decision had wrought once more burning into him, "it''s hard b . . . being all alone. I miss t . . . talking to them."

An arm came around his shoulders, rocking him gently from side to side, and Quatre blushed to the roots of his hair. He just couldn''t help it. Being so close to Duo felt . . . nice. He should be afraid of Duo's proximity, after the experience he'd just gone through especially, but Quatre felt no fear having Duo so close, only a sense of safety and warmth.

"They''ll get over it eventually, Q," Duo said, as he held him. "It''ll be okay."

But Quatre wasn''t so sure about that. He had been cut off from his family in the worst possible way, and financially speaking, Quatre was broke and completely on his own. To say he wasn''t scared would be a lie. He was scared, scared shitless actually, but he was too determined to allow his fears to conquer him. He hadn''t gone through all of the trouble of standing against his parents in order to allow his financial troubles to ruin things for him. I just need to get a job before my savings run out.

"Are you sure you''re going to be alright staying here by yourself?"

Turning away from his morbid thoughts, Quatre moved away enough to look up into Duo''s eyes. "Yes, I''ll be fine. M . . . My roommate should b . . . be here soon." Just in time to make my day even more miserable, Quatre added silently, still unable to figure out why Alex disliked him so much.

All he''d ever been was polite and courteous to his roommate. But no matter what he tried to do, Alex still treated him like he was some kind of leper, even after sharing the same room for a whole semester. It was really disconcerting for Quatre, and it left him out of sorts. Not that it should matter to him. His own parents disliked him, so the feeling of being alienated wasn''t entirely new to him. But it bothered him just the same. He had so wanted to make his college experience something he could look back on fondly, but it sure wasn''t turning out as he''d planned. Nothing was.

The door to the room suddenly opened, and Quatre moved away from Duo, as his roommate walked through the doorway. Immediately, Quatre saw Alex's eyes narrow in on them, watching them with a look that appeared to be of disgust, as Duo lowered his arm from around Quatre''s shoulders.

"Hi, Alex," he made himself say. "This is my friend Duo. Duo this is my roommate, Alex."

Duo stood up in one smooth move, and offered his hand to the short haired brunette. "Duo Maxwell. Nice to meet you."

Alex looked at the offered hand for a good couple of seconds, before he reluctantly took it. "Alex. It''s a . . . pleasure."

Quatre''s hand clenched over his knee, noticing the impolite inflections in Alex''s voice. That pompous jerk. One thing is to treat me like shit, but it's another to treat my friend that way. He could tell that Duo wasn't oblivious to the unfriendly vibes Alex was projecting, and it embarrassed him greatly. But what worried him the most was the possibility of Duo being offended and never wanting to talk to him again. For some reason, Quatre couldn't even stand the thought.

"Shit, Winner. What the hell happened to you?" Alex asked him, as he walked over to his bed and placed his bag on it.

Duo was about to open his mouth, but Quatre interjected, not wanting Alex to know the true reason behind his appearance. He was going to stutter terribly, and he hated doing so in front of Alex, but Quatre knew that there was no avoiding it. "N . . . Nothing much, r . . . really. I fell d . . . down a stairwell. Duo was n . . . nice enough to help me g . . . get home."

Violet eyes latched onto his own, and Quatre silently begged for Duo's understanding and cooperation. I don't want him to know. Please, Duo. Please, play along with me.

Duo sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, but remained silent, apparently acknowledging Quatre's voiceless plea.

"Fell down, huh?" Alex walked up to Quatre and peered down at him, taking note of the bruises over his face. Alex smirked, causing Quatre to swallow self-consciously.

"Yeah, he slipped and fell," Duo spoke blandly, looking at Alex with serious eyes. "He's a bit shaken up. Do you think that you could help him out tonight if he needs anything?"

Alex raised a black eyebrow. "Why should I?"

Duo's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Because he's your roommate, and it's the right thing to do."

Quatre shivered at Duo's cold tone.

Alex hands fisted at his sides briefly, before the lanky brunette smirked. "I guess I can help Winner out for tonight."

Quatre swallowed, as Duo continued to stare at Alex. He didn't know why Alex had acquiesced, but right now, seeing the ice whirling within Duo's gaze, Quatre didn't really care. He could feel the tension in the air, feel the growing animosity steadily flowing between the other two men, and he wanted it to stop. He didn't want any more problems, not even with his jerk of a roommate. "I'll be okay, Duo. Really. Don't worry about me."

Duo shifted his hard gaze to him, and Quatre saw how the violet orbs instantly softened. "Are you absolutely sure, Quatre?"

No. I don't want you to go. I don't want to be alone again. Quatre nodded. "Yes, I am."

Duo stared at him for a few seconds, before he finally spoke. "Okay. I'll check on you in the morning, alright?"

Quatre smiled, feeling relieved that he''d see Duo again. "Alright."

Duo looked at Alex once more, his eyes darkening in warning, as he moved to the door and walked into the hallway. He glanced at Quatre one more time, before he quietly closed the door behind him.

Wanting badly to call out for his friend, Quatre swallowed the words back and forced himself to remain calm, as Alex approached him.

"You know, Winner, you look like someone beat the shit out of you." A pleased smile curved Alex's face when Quatre lost his nerve and looked away. "Thought so. What happened, Winner? Did you try to get too friendly with someone?"

Quatre quickly raised his eyes, glaring at the other man. "Stop it, Alex."

Alex's smile widened. "Developing a backbone now, are we?" Dark eyes looked over at the door Duo had exited. "I saw how you looked at Maxwell, you know. How your eyes followed him around.""

Quatre''s heart rammed against his chest, feelings of anger and embarrassment clenching his gut, as he tried not to look away from the face now mocking him. He didn''t want to speak, didn''t want to hear himself stutter hoarsely as he tried to defend himself. Alex would probably laugh in his face, and Quatre knew he wouldn''t be able to bear it. He''d lash out, like he''d done in the past whenever his temper got a hold of him, and he''d regret it. No matter how deserving Alex was right now of retribution, Quatre had no right to cause harm to another.

""Leave me alone.""

""Wow. You said three whole words without stuttering. Amazing.""

Quatre glared, trying to hold his anger at bay. It was hard though. He so wanted to bash in the idiot''s face.

""Come on, admit it, Winner. You like him. Look at you, you''re blushing like a little pansy."" Alex shook his head, disgust plain to see on his face. ""That''s probably why you got your ass kicked. But I''m telling you right now that I don''t want your shit in this room,"" Alex threatened, his eyes glaring into Quatre''s.

God, that''s why he''s been treating me like shit. He knows that I''m gay. The realization caused Quatre's already sensitive stomach to turn. But even though he wanted to wilt underneath Alex's intimidating stare, Quatre held firm, looking at the brunette with unwavering eyes.

""You do whatever the hell you people do outside, but don''t bring it here. Understand?""

Refusing to justify Alex''s words with an answer, Quatre took a deep breath and stood up. His legs trembling, he walked around the brunette''s tensed form, and trekked across the small room to the bathroom. Dizziness washed over him, tilting his world precariously, but Quatre didn''t let his steps falter; he refused to give Alex the satisfaction of seeing him fall flat on his face. But as he opened the bathroom door, he felt nausea assailing him and he barely held onto his control. Shit.

Making it into the bathroom without incident, Quatre closed the door and leaned up against it, closing his eyes, as he tried to calm his erratic breathing. He swallowed over and over again and clamped a shaky hand over his mouth, praying for his stomach to settle down. But it didn't work. It was all too much for him: Davis' brutal attack, Alex's harsh words . . . everything.

Opening his eyes once again, Quatre stumbled over to the toilet and emptied out his stomach, no longer able to hold the nausea back. Tears ran down his pale cheeks, as he heaved, and Quatre wanted to die on the spot. Why, dammit? Why is my life so hard? What did I do to deserve this?

Feeling miserable and so very alone, unwanted memories filtered through the barrier he''d erected over his heart and mind, and Quatre clung to the bowl even harder, as his family''s painful rejection once again rose to haunt him.

[ ""You''re a disgrace to this family,"" his father shouted at Quatre, as he sat, wide-eyed, in front of his father's large desk. ""Fine! Go to your school. Live your immoral life. But don''t come crawling back here when everything comes crashing down around you. And it will, boy. It will. You''ll see for yourself soon enough, and I''ll be damned if I let you take this family''s name down with you!""

Quatre shook his head, tears in his eyes, as he pleaded with his father to understand. ""P . . . Please, Father, don''t s . . . say that. All I want is to live a no . . . normal life. To go to sc . . . school like everyone else and live in a way that will make me h . . . happy. Why can''t you understand that?""

The slap came out of nowhere, leaving Quatre momentarily stunned, as he instinctively raised a hand to his quickly reddening cheek. Quatre stared up at his father, the man who had never, ever raised a hand to him, and felt his heart begin to splinter.

"Understand?"" his father spat at him, ""You want me to understand how my son, my 'only' son, is a homosexual? A deviant asking for freedom to do as he pleases while tainting the name that has been a source of pride for countless generations?"

"I cannot believe your audacity, Quatre."

Quatre turned his watery eyes to his stepmother. Slender and beautiful, Fajera Winner stood from where she'd been sitting next to his father's desk and approached him, her black eyes full of contempt.

"To come here, asking your father to condone your sinful ways. How dare you?"

Anger sparked within Quatre, temporarily pushing aside the hurt radiating inside of him. "My feelings aren't sinful."

Fajera's face contorted in anger, marring her usually serene mask. "You think not? You foolish little boy. Don't you know what your ways would do to your father? His name would be tarnished, branded lower than the dirt beneath your feet. All that he's worked for will be attributed to his 'abnormal' son."

"I am not abnormal!" Quatre shouted, standing up in an instant to meet his stepmother's hateful gaze head on.

"Quatre!" his father exclaimed. "You forget yourself."

"No, b . . . but that''s what you w . . . want me to do, isn''t it? To forget who I ''really'' am?"" Quatre asked, his voice hitching. ""You want m . . . me to be this p . . . perfect being, this person that c . . . can do no wrong. Well, I''m not that person, Father. I''m ''me''. A man who h . . . has flaws and who isn''t afraid to admit to h . . . having them."" Quatre''s fists tightened at his sides, thinking of all of the times his father hadn''t allowed him to speak in front of others, undoubtedly ashamed of his son''s ''speech impediment'', of his son''s imperfection. ""I am not your p . . . puppet, no matter how hard you wish for me to be. I know w . . . who I am and what I want. Whether you chose to c . . . condemn me for that,"" Quatre shook his head, ""then s . . . so be it. But I am not going to ignore my f . . . feelings, or my needs. And I most definitely will n . . . not deny that I am a homosexual. I''m n . . . not ashamed of that ''fact'' and n . . . never will be."" Quatre took a deep breath, willing his words to come out as clearly as possible. ""Like it or not, Father, your only son is gay.""

Quatre was shaking by the time he finished speaking his mind, a part of him not able to believe that he''d just stood up for himself, and watched through a watery veil, as his father walked up to him with stone-cold eyes.

""Then I have no son.""

""What?"" Quatre asked hoarsely. This couldn''t be happening. His father had not just said that. But as his father stopped in front of him, looking at him as if he were a total stranger, Quatre knew his world had irrevocably changed.

""I said that I have no son!""

His father''s hand shot out and grabbed Quatre roughly by his collar, gripping the material around his neck hard enough to choke him. Quatre raised his hands over his father''s large one and gasped, as he was pushed backward toward the door.

""Father, p . . . please!"" he begged, his heart, no longer whole, only shattered remains of what it had once been.

""Get out!"" his father shouted at him, pushing Quatre out of the room.

Unable to find his balance, Quatre fell onto his hands and knees, feeling his world tearing apart. Oh, God. Oh, God. He turned quickly and looked up at his father''s expressionless face.

""Take your belongings and get out of this house. You are no longer welcomed here. Leave on your own within the hour, or I will have you ''escorted'' off of my property.""

And with those final words, his father turned and closed the door quietly behind him, shutting Quatre out as if he''d never been born. ]

Biting down on his hand, Quatre held back the sobs that were threatening to tear free from within him. Everything had changed so much for him since that fateful day when he''d lost his heritage and his family. He could still remember how he''d climbed the steps up to his room, feeling completely numb, devoid of any feeling except for the agony of betrayal.

Quatre closed his eyes at the remembrance, biting down even harder onto his slender hand. No one said good-bye. No one. Whether out of fear for their father''s reprimand or their disgust of Quatre himself, not one of his sisters had come out of their rooms when he''d knocked on their doors to say good-bye. And that had hurt almost as much as his father''s decree. He had walked out of the only home he''d ever known, walked away from the life he''d been bred to lead, and entered a world entirely new to him with no one to guide his way. He had been completely alone.

He still was.

Quatre slid away from the toilet, tired and distraught, and looked down at his mangled hand. His eyes fixed on the imprints his teeth had made over his delicate skin, Quatre watched as his tears fell onto the reddened welts. Violet eyes suddenly came to mind, full of kindness and understanding, and Quatre''s lips began to quiver once again. Be there for me, Duo. Be my friend. Don't leave me alone again. Please. . . .

Quatre brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face into them, wrapping his arms around his head, and as quietly as he was able, finally allowed himself to cry.

Duo sighed, as he walked into his bedroom. Switching on the lights, he stood by the doorway, staring into the mid-sized room, his roaming eyes taking in how messy the area was. A huge pile of clothes, ready for washing, was on the floor near the closet, looking as if it would tilt over at any moment, and Duo winced, knowing that he wouldn''t be able to avoid doing the laundry for much longer. He looked over at his two large oak dressers to his right, and frowned, remembering how long ago different sized frames had adorned their surface, telling a tale of happiness and love. But now, the dressers just stood there, barred of his once happy memories. Duo frowned, as he shifted his gaze to the full-sized bed in the middle of the room directly in front of him. That too had changed. No longer was the bed neatly made, adding warmth to its surroundings. Instead, pillows were thrown haphazardly upon the mattress and wrinkled sheets were half across it, dangling onto the floor, another example of how things had changed throughout the passage of time.

Shit, I'm a fucking slob. Heero would've blown a fit if he'd seen the room this way. Realizing what he'd just done, Duo slammed his hand against the wall, angry at himself for allowing such a thought to cross his mind. Stop acting like he's going to walk in here as if nothing's happened. He's gone, dammit. He's gone. . . .

Duo took a deep breath and walked over to the large pile of dirty clothes. He wrinkled his nose at the faint smell emanating from them and sighed. Knowing what he had to do, he toppled the pile over and kicked the clothes over to the side of the bed. Once he arranged the clothes against the night stand, he sat down on the bed and began to separate them. Whites there . . . Colors over here . . . Blah, blah, blah. God, I hate doing laundry! I wish . . . Stop it! You're doing it again.

He couldn't help it though. The laundry had at one time been tolerable when he had someone to do it with . . . when Heero had been there to yell at him to stop taking his time, to correct him if he'd put a piece of clothing in the wrong pile, to . . . Duo dropped the black T-shirt in his hands and suddenly stood up. Pacing back and forth on the wooden floor, he wrapped his arms around his waist. Why does it still hurt so much? Why can't I let him go?

Duo raised a hand to his face, covering his eyes. I miss you so much, Heero. It's so hard to live on without you. So hard. I want to be with you again. Sometimes . . . Sometimes, I just want it to end. To forget about this miserable life I'm leading.

[ "Please, Heero, don't leave me," he begged, his tone almost hysterical, as he held onto Heero's hand. Sounds of beeping machines could be heard in the background, but Duo didn''t really hear them. Even the agonizing pain shooting up from his leg didn''t seem to register, nothing did; his entire being was focused solely on the man he loved.

"Promise me . . . ," Heero whispered, "Promise me that you won't give up . . . that you'll live on without me. Promise me, Duo. Please, promise me.

Eyes full of unshed tears, Duo nodded, knowing that his answer would give Heero true peace. "I promise, love. I promise."

Heero closed his eyes and smiled one last time, before he took his final breath. ]

Duo lowered his hand, letting it fall down to his side, his face full of determination, despite the tears shimmering in his eyes. No, he couldn't give up on life. He had to fulfill the promise he'd made to his lover on his deathbed. No matter how hard it got, no matter how much he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry himself into oblivion, Duo couldn't let himself fall into the trap of self-pity. He'd promised Heero that he'd continue living, and he would do exactly that. No matter how much it hurt him to do so, he wouldn't let Heero down. So snap out of this fucking mood, Maxwell, he berated himself. It's getting old.

Returning to the piles of clothes, Duo picked up the black shirt he'd dropped and began to turn it inside out. The logo on the shirt caught his attention, however, and Duo stopped what he was doing to stare it. "2002 Winner, Track & Field," he read silently. His eyes almost immediately latched onto a particular word. Winner . . . Duo swallowed. Quatre Raberba Winner.

Blue-green eyes, large and perfect, came to mind, and Duo felt his stomach clench, as his thoughts became confused. He'd only met Quatre a few hours ago, but Duo knew that a strange sort of bond had formed between the two of them. He couldn't explain it, couldn't pinpoint what or how things had changed for him, but he knew without a doubt that they had. Yes, Heero's memory never left him, and thoughts of his lost love never ceased to cause him pain, but not since the first few months after Heero's death did his 'feelings' affect him so intensely. He knew it was because of Quatre. Ever since he'd laid his eyes on the handsome blonde, battered and half-naked, scared out of his mind, Duo had felt his emotions once again resurfacing, emotions he'd sworn to never again allow to affect him, to rule his judgement, his mind, and most importantly, his heart. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to realize that he'd failed in his objective so miserably.

He was already noticing the effect his new friendship with Quatre was having on him. He was feeling overprotective over the blonde, needing to ensure that he was alright; such feelings had prompted him to offer in accompanying Quatre to his dorm room. Quatre had looked so alone and defenseless. How could he have 'not' helped?

Duo's eyes narrowed, as his thoughts shifted to Quatre's roommate. Asshole. It had taken all of Duo's willpower not to bash his fist into the cocky bastard's face. How the hell does Q deal with that jerk? It was so obvious to Duo that Alex clearly disliked Quatre. He could tell in the way Alex had perused Quatre's injuries, almost smirking at Quatre because of them. It was because of Alex's obvious contempt toward Quatre that had made Duo reluctant to leave the blonde in the other boy's care.

Duo once again dropped the black T-shirt, this time due to another reason. "What if he's not okay there with that prick? What if Q needs help?" Duo asked himself, as he stood up to pace yet again. What should I do? What should I do? The last thing he wanted was to show up at Quatre's door looking like some sort of stalker. He had only just met Quatre for heaven's sake. Besides, didn't he 'want' to avoid Quatre, to avoid the feelings the blonde was stirring within him? But the feeling of dread beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach wasn't letting up, urging Duo to act upon his instincts. No matter how much he wanted to stay here in his apartment, to listen to the warning bells going off in his head, Duo couldn't deny the need coursing through him, encouraging him to take that step his mind was screaming at him to turn away from. Dammit, I am so screwed.

Duo took a deep breath, calming his thoughts. Okay, so now that I've come to the realization that I'm a masochistic nutcase, what am I going to do about Quatre? Duo's eyes narrowed, before a grin curved his chiseled lips, a thought occurring to him.

With the smile still on his face, Duo walked out of his bedroom, forgetting about his chores, about his issues with his past, and headed toward the front door. Grabbing his jacket along the way, Duo stepped out of his apartment and quickly walked along the hallway, his eyes holding a renewed sparkle of joy.

Look out, Q. I'm coming for ya.

After looking at himself in the mirror one more time, Quatre came out of the bathroom, hoping that Alex would be gone. His eyes were puffy and the tip of his nose was red from crying, and he just wasn't in the mood to be bothered by the lanky brunette. He walked into the room and nearly raised a fist to the heavens in anger when he saw Alex sitting on his bed, writing in a notebook. Just great. Quickly, he passed Alex's bed and walked over to his own bed, trying to keep his legs steady, as a wave of nausea hit him again. Damn.

He felt so sick right now. Not only had he nearly puked his guts out, but he had a huge headache and felt incredibly cold. And to top it all off, he was actually hungry. How he could be hungry after nearly merging with the toilet was beyond him, but Quatre could feel his stomach rumbling for sustenance. Quatre turned his head a bit to his right, cautiously eyeing the small refrigerator against the far right wall, the stupid wall right in front of Alex's bed. Shit, there's no way I'm walking over there, Quatre proclaimed inwardly and sighed in resignation, knowing he would not be eating anytime soon.

Feeling lousier than ever, Quatre reached over by his night stand and pulled his bookbag over and onto the bed. His hands stopped in mid-motion, as he suddenly remembered the books he'd dropped in the hallway when Davis had attacked him. Ohhhh, shiiit. I totally forgot about them. Dammit! He knew he should go back to get them, but just thinking of returning to where he'd been brutally attacked and almost raped made him shiver. I can't go back there. Not yet. But what about the books then? Could he rely on the hall monitor to take them back to the school library? Some monitor, he thought bitterly, remembering how empty the halls had been when he'd been desperately looking for help. Quatre sighed. Stop it. I can't blame other people for what happened. It's not right. I guess I can report the books lost or something tomorrow.

With that settled, Quatre reached into his bookbag and took out the five-subject notebook he used as a journal. Opening it to his previous entry, just a day ago, Quatre pulled the pen he'd clipped to the spiral notebook and prepared to write about his day. But as he sat there, pen in hand, poised above the paper, his hand began to shake uncontrollably. Trying to calm down, Quatre took in a deep breath and tried again. But it was to no avail. He was shaking way too much, even his heart was beating rapidly against his chest. Quatre winced, as the pounding in his head increased by a tenfold. God, he wanted so badly to be alone, so that he could let go of the pressure building inside of his chest. How many more times would he need to cry? he asked himself in frustration. He'd cried in the bathroom, but it seemed that his previous bout of tears wasn't enough. Running a hand through his sweat dampened hair, Quatre realized that it probably never would be.

He would never be able to forget the feral look in Davis' eyes or the feel of the bastard's hands ripping away at his clothes, touching his body. With no little shame, he could still remember how his body had shivered at the rough touches. He knew it had been instinctual, that his body had simply reacted, but knowing that didn't make him feel any better about it; he felt dirty and used. God, would he ever be able to rid the memory of his body being violated in such a way? Granted, he hadn't been raped, and Quatre guessed he should be grateful for that fact, but knowing what 'could have' happened didn't erase what 'had' happened to him, couldn't take away the fear lingering inside of him. Images kept popping into his head, escalating the sickening feeling threatening to overwhelm him, and it was hard to ignore them, to push them away, to try not to think about what Davis had done to him. His body still ached, his head was one huge throbbing mass, and his mind refused to barricade itself away from his morbid thoughts and hurtful recollections.

He had been brave in front of Duo, in front of Rashid and the policemen that had come to speak to him, but he wasn't brave. Not one bit. He wouldn't be wanting to shit in his pants right now, wanting to hide away from the world, if he was. He couldn't even walk over to the goddamn refrigerator because he didn't want Alex to look his way, to see how shaken up he was, how much of a baby he was being. I'm so pathetic. Quatre looked at his journal mournfully. Maybe Father was right after all.

A knock intruded in his silent world of musing, and Quatre looked up at the door. With a curious frown, he watched as Alex stood up and opened it. Surprise and an undescribable feeling of joy passed through Quatre, as the most handsome man he'd ever met stood by the open doorway, grinning at him.

"Hey, Q."

Quatre smiled, barely noticing a grumbling Alex going back to his side of the room. Placing his journal under his pillow, he stood up and slowly walked up to the long-haired brunette. "Hi, Duo. W . . . What are you doing here?" It was then that he noticed the books Duo was carrying. "Oh!" he exclaimed, immediately moving forward to take the heavy books away from Duo.

Duo, however, refused to hand over his small burden. "Just point to where you want them, Q."

Still surprised by Duo's kind gesture, Quatre pointed over to the small dresser on the left of his bed. I can't believe he went back and got them for me. Wow. If he could've done so, Quatre was certain he would''ve melted into a puddle of goo.

Placing the books down on the dresser, Duo turned around and smiled. "You hungry?"

Quatre's eyes lit up. "Yes, I am."

Duo's smile grew, as he walked over to Quatre. "Then, let''s go out and grab something to eat . . . Unless you''re not up to it."

""No, I''m f . . . fine."" Quatre smiled, but then quickly frowned, looking down at his clothes. "I h . . . have to change first."

Duo nodded. "No prob." Violet eyes looked over to Quatre's stoic roommate. "I'll wait for you outside, alright?"

Understanding Duo's need not to be left in Alex's company, Quatre grinned. "Okay."

Once Duo was gone, Quatre walked over to his closet and picked out something to wear, all the while ignoring Alex's piercing gaze. Mind your own business, Alex. Don't piss me off.

Fortunately for him, he made it to the bathroom without so much as a word from the other boy. Taking his clothes off as quickly as he could, Quatre couldn't stop himself from wincing at the livid bruises marring his skin. He was a mess. Just a mess. His eyes fixed upon his swollen lips and Quatre sighed, not really sure anymore if going out was such a smart idea. People were going to notice him for sure, and Quatre wasn't looking forward to the stares and whispers his looks would probably provoke. Maybe he should tell Duo that he'd changed his mind. He knew Duo would understand . . . Are you out of your mind?! his mind screamed at him. You have a gorgeous man waiting for you outside, and you're going to pass up an opportunity to go out with him? You must've hit your head harder than you realized because you're being a total ass!

Quatre stared at his reflection on the mirror. I am being an ass, aren't I? I can't let this chance slip by me. Besides, I don't want to stay here wallowing in my own thoughts. At least, with Duo, I can have some fun and not think about what happened before.

Fueled by determination, Quatre nodded at himself in confirmation of his decision and finished getting dressed. When he was done in the bathroom, he walked over to his closet and threw his dirty clothes into the nylon laundry bag hanging on the door. Inconspicuously, he looked into the mirror hanging on the other side of the closet door, checking himself out one more time, before he headed out.

Almost to the door, Alex finally decided to open his mouth.

"Make sure you use a condom, Winner. Wouldn't want you to 'catch' something, now would we?"

Sonofabitch! Quatre's hand tightened over the knob. Keep calm. "Thanks f . . . for the concern, Alex," Quatre replied, trying to pronounce his words as clearly as he could. "After all, I w . . . wouldn't want to turn out like you, now would I?"

Not daring to laugh at Alex's stunned face, Quatre stepped out of the room, closing the door quickly behind him. Actually feeling somewhat giddy, he proceeded to walk down the hallway toward the stairs. Despite all that had happened today, despite the weariness in his body, in his soul, Quatre was determined to enjoy the night, to enjoy his time with Duo.

[ Sometimes, things happen for a reason, Quatre. I know that it's hard to understand why certain things happen, but our duty is not to question them. No, Quatre. Our duty is to learn from them. Always remember that everything has its purpose and that we just have to be open-minded enough to see what that purpose is. ]

Quatre smiled at the recollection of his mother's words. It had been a hard time for him, her weakening health, and so she had made sure that he understood that although she was dying, she would never really leave his side. And she was right. Years after her death, she was still alive in his memories and in his heart. I see now what you meant back then, Mom. I truly do.

His life may be a living nightmare right now, but perhaps, it would all lead him to something better, to something that would make all of his suffering worth it in the end. Maybe, just maybe, he would finally find happiness.

With a lighter heart, Quatre walked outside, ready and willing to meet his fate head on.

TBC. . . .

Forsaken Author Pairing Rating Subject