Cracked Reflections 4/5+ Epilogue & Prologue
        Bloodstained Sands
Rating: R
Series: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU/Angst
Pairings: 1x2x1 (background), 3+4+3 (suggested), 5xMerian
Spoilers: Yes, but only of you can recognize the changes. (Can't say more or I'll ruin the story.)
Warnings: (Het, Yaoi, Death, Angst, AU (in a weird way), Violence, Suggested NCS, Prostitution, Suicide, Drugs, Bastardized Quatre (I think...), Language, and Generalized Freaky Things
By Moon Faery
Archived: (eventually at) Moon Faery's Garden (https://www.angelfire.com/anime4/moon_faerys_garden/); FFN (http://www.fanfiction.net); Kiss of Death [my new site!] (https://www.angelfire.com/gundam/kissofdeath/);

Disclaimer: A statement created solely to save one's ass from becoming lawn for the proverbial legal mower. I do not own Gundam Wing, nor does anyone I know own it. However, this story line and plot are MINE. (Holds fic close to her.) Grrrr....

Author Notes: This is... Short. Why? I have no clue. ^^;; Gomen ne, guys.

*** February 23 AC 184 ***

Edwin Winner carefully folded his clothing and placed it in the suitcase. He had refused outright to let someone do it for him. However, he was paying for that decision as his eldest daughter took the opportunity to lecture him. "Father!" she scolded, face serious for her 15 years of age. "You're going to miss Quatre's birthday!"

The head of the Winner household turned to look at his daughter. Her curly golden hair fell over her shoulders, wisps escaping forward to tickle her nose. "Iria, you know I have to do this."

Iria glared fiercely, blue eyes hard. "And you know that's not true!" she argued hotly. "Heero Yuy can do without you for ONE day. The peace isn't that damn fragile!"

He stared at his daughter, who had her hands on her hips. "Iria, watch your tongue!"

"No, Father, I won't!" she told him, eyes snapping with all the fire her skinny frame could muster. "We miss you! Quatre barely ever sees you!" She stepped forward and gave her father a hug. "We all miss you," she whispered. "And Quatre deserves to know his father."

"Iria..." Edwin sighed and sat on the bed, holding his daughter. "I can't miss this meeting. You have to understand that Heero needs me to help keep the peace."

She shook her head sadly, eyes downcast. "We need you more."

Master Winner stood and snapped his suitcase closed. "Iria, I'm going, and that is final. I don't want to hear about this anymore."

"Yes sir."

The door creaked a little as four year old Quatre crept out of his listening spot and ran down the hallway, tears streaming behind him.

*** AC 190 ***

"Master Quatre," the tutor said, his voice weary. "You know that I will not accept vulgarity in an answer. Who is responsible for the world-wide peace?" His student was silent. "Please, Quatre. I know you can answer this."

Quatre shifted sullenly in his chair. "Why should I answer, Greg?" he asked quietly. "We all know what the answer is."

"It's a formality," Greg told his pupil, placing a hand on his small shoulder. "I know how much you hate this subject, but I can't pass you until you answer the question properly."

"I already told you that the ass hole Yuy's the one who created the God damned peace," the little blonde ten year-old snarled standing up. "I believe that this lesson ended fifteen minutes ago."

"But-" the tutor began. "You still have your violin lessons!"

The Winner son shook his head, eyes dark and stalked to the door. "I don't want to play the violin right now. You're dismissed."

"You can't do that!"

"I just did." Quatre slammed the door behind him. He strolled silently down the hallway, eyes dark and brooding.

"Master Quatre?" one of his keepers asked him, appearing around a corner. Picking up her long skirts to keep up with her charges pace, she looked at the boy worriedly. A strand of silvering blonde hair escaped the tidy braid she wore it in. "Master Quatre, your father will be arriving home in two hours, with Mater Yuy. Shouldn't you be preparing for their arrival?"

He snorted sourly. "As if they care about me, either of them."

"Sir-" she tried, but was cut off when Quatre stopped suddenly. She nearly fell in an attempt to avoid bumping him.

"If my father wants to see me, I'll be in my room," the tiny blonde boy told her, shoulders stiff. "That's all. Go."

"But-"

He turned and glared at her, eyes so dark they seemed black. "I said LEAVE!"

The aging woman turned and fled.

*** July 8 AC 192 EARTH***

The Winner family plot in the graveyard was silent except for the sound of the wind blowing gently over the tombstones, and birds chirping in the trees. It was a bright summer day, filled with sunshine and green growing things. Looking at the place now, no one would have realized that there had been a funeral service held there less than a week ago.

Quatre Raberba Winner sat on a bench, staring numbly at the twenty-nine new stones, all dated 07-04-192. His eyes were red, and his clothing was mussed. It looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. There was a slight crunch of grass being crushed as a person entered the secluded area. He was followed by two men in dark suits, who positioned themselves at the gate. The new arrival paused before the graves for a moment in respect, his dark brown suit turning black in the shade of an ancient cypress tree. After saying a soft prayer, he turned and sat beside Quatre on the bench.

Quatre looked up at the man and smiled sadly. " Good afternoon, Mr. Yuy."

Heero Yuy placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it softly. His own brown eyes were red as well, and there were slight bags under them. "Quatre, I'm very sorry for your loss."

The last remaining Winner male's smile fell, and he returned his gaze to his father's grave. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot, coming from you."

Heero followed the boy's eyes, and his hand fell down to his side. He felt helpless, watching the child try and deal with so much grief. "At least you survived," he said at last. "It's a miracle that you didn't ingest enough of the poison to kill you. Have they found the culprit yet?"

"They know who he is, but they won't catch him." A small smile touched Quatre's lips, but it slid away so quickly that Heero didn't see it. "Killer is not an easy man to find. And it's not a miracle of any sort. The assassin just didn't know that I don't like clam chowder." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand tiredly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Yuy, if I seem curt. I should probably get some sleep."

"No, no, son," Heero hastened to assure the boy. "I understand completely, after everything you've been through." He stood and adjusted his jacket, deciding to leave the boy to his grief. "I have a meeting to get to. Again, I'm very sorry." He turned and walked away, head bowed.

Quatre watched the Saviour of the World leave, eyes hooded. When he could no longer see Heero, he stood rubbing his eyes.

"I think I used too much soap," he muttered, wincing a little and cracking his neck. "I had better get back home before Iria gets out of the hospital and finds the hemlock in the kitchen." Turning back to the graves, he smiled slightly. "Bye, and thanks for the money!"

*** January 13 AC 199 ***

Quatre sat himself down at the negotiations table, black suit neatly pressed. All around the table the press gathered, cameras flashing and film rolling. At his elbow, Iria seated herself soft, staying a careful distance away from her younger brother. Quatre glanced at his sister amusedly, smiling a little as she inched away from him, unconsciously rubbing her left wrist.

He leaned over the arm of his chair, lips brushing her ear. "I only fractured it," he whispered. "Stop acting like I threw you through a wall."

Iria glared at her brother, who had shot up in height since their childhood and now towered over her. She opened her mouth to argue, but the playful glint in his eye stopped her. Instead, she shrank back into her chair and folded her hands in her lap, cornflower blue eyes staring at them nervously.

The blonde boy snorted and settled back into his seat. "I thought so." Something in the gathered crowd caught his attention. Someone was slipping between people quietly, someone without a camera or a microphone. He was quietly working his way to the front of the masses, auburn hair swept forward to hide his eyes. The young multi-trillionaire found himself wondering what the color of those eyes were. Without realizing what he was doing, Quatre leaned forward, eyes intent upon the man, the face less person in a crowd of similar people. The man stopped moving, looking up as if he felt someone watching him. His eyes fell on Quatre, brilliantly green eyes meeting dark turquoise ones for a brief second.

Something thundered to a stop inside the blonde, freezing him solidly in his seat. Even as he watched the man pull a gun out of his coat, he found himself locked in place. The killer locked eyes with him again. In spite of himself, Quatre left a small smile trace his lips. His eyes slid shut even as the sound of a bullet being fired echoed through the crowded room.

***

03 <--- Previous Chapter - Next Chapter ---> 05

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