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"Shivers"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: PG 13 Warnings: angst, language Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Trowa’s cover gets blown and it
lands him in an impossible situation. " Shivers" It sounded like gun shots in the corridor outside, although he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t hear much from his current location, and he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It’s fuckin’ cold! Trowa silently screamed while blowing warm onto his frozen, naked fingers in hopes of warming them at least somewhat. They had become numb and unresponsive a little while ago. He stuffed them back under his armpits to keep himself as covered as he could. He wasn’t sure what blew his cover, but he was sure they knew everything. They had taken no chances. Simon, the leader of the particular group of idiots he was infiltrating, had got a call on his cell phone. Turned white. Hung up. Swiveled around and socked Trowa right in the face, following it with a gravity defying uppercut that Trowa hadn’t even been able to prepare for. He had fought back after that, but he had been outnumbered almost 40 to one, and he found himself here. In the outdoor concrete ‘store house’ which didn’t store anything except people the drug cartel deemed dangerous. Since he was here, watching his breath crystallize in front of him, he knew someone must have leaked his cover. Trowa paced the rather large storeroom, his boots making dark prints in the frosted cement floor. It was too cold against the walls to even lean and the floors were even worse. He had been infiltrating a drug and weapons ring operating out of northern Russia, for god’s sakes. His previous ‘comrades’ had taken his thick, stylish coat, but at least they had left him his boots. And the little pocket knife stored inside the sole. He had used it to cut himself free of his pathetic bindings within minutes, and he had hoped that having it would give him an edge. But he needed a chance to use his weapon, which wasn’t looking bright. The door was solid concrete, Vault style, with no hope of picking a lock with out a high powered drill and a lot of time. Time he had. It was the drill he was a touch short of. He also couldn’t take a guard hostage or anything since the door hadn’t so much as twitched the whole time he’d been there, so he wasn’t hopeful that anyone would be coming anytime soon. The only source to the outside was a square mail-box sized slot right near the roof which did nothing but make the frozen wind whistle as it pushed in. There was no way out but the door. And it wasn’t budging from his side. He would get a chance if his captors wanted to interrogate him. Or if news of his blown cover reached the other operatives infiltrating the same operation. Although Trowa had no idea if their cover was blown too, or ever who that was, (which was standard Preventer procedure for an operation this large. If Trowa died or was discovered all was not lost, and he could never reveal the name of an operative he didn’t know). But his most realistic hope was that Heero (who might be monitoring him) would find out something was off and get help. Although Trowa hadn’t been exposed to the frigid cold for longer then an hour, he was sure, even though the Russian Winter could kill a man in less then fifteen. Heero was a damn good soldier, but he wasn’t perfect like everyone thought. Even he could not mount a rescue in that short of time. His body started to compulsively shiver, spasms that rendered him almost completely motionless except for the wracking shakes overcoming him. He kept walking, kept pacing, had to just keep moving, every moment he could. But he felt himself falling into the walls more and more with each step. He was quickly going hypothermic. The realization was followed by another spasm of wracking shakes, making him drop to his knees onto the ice-slicked concrete. It hardly hurt. That worried him more then the shivers did. Quatre was going to be so pissed if he died. That was all that he could think about. Just how MAD, Quatre would be. That man would go zero on these guy’s asses, and nothing but smoking ashes would remain. Quatre was an Ex-Gundam pilot, CEO, and part-time Preventer. He OWNED everything worth owning. You didn’t kill his husband and get away with it. Trowa felt himself smiling about that. As far as the public knew, Trowa was only a bodyguard often seen near “Mr. Winner, CEO”. Only their close friends knew about their real relationship, and only their real family knew about their quiet L3 wedding last winter (which stared Rashid and Duo as Quatre’s groomsmen and Heero and Wufei as Trowa’s). Trowa looked at his hands and took the ring off the chain around his neck and slipped it on his frozen fingers while he was still able to fumble it on. It may have taken far more tries than he wanted to admit, but he got it. If he died, he was doing it with his wedding ring on. That thought brought a smile to his face, even as his eyelids got too heavy to stay up and his vision went dark around the edges. The TAK TAK of bullets bounced off the vault door, and then the sounds of screaming guardsmen filtered in from the window. The frigid snapping of icicles filled the air as they shattered off the now moving deadbolt. The door was moving? Just the thought caused a wave of adrenaline to shoot through Trowa’s unresponsive body. It was enough to allow him to focus his eyes to be sure that the bolt was, in fact, moving. Heero had come? Trowa heard rusting, then felt something wrap around him. Delicious heat flowed from what Trowa realized was skin. Someone was hugging him. Trowa felt another violent fit of shivers shoot through him, enough to lift him off the floor in ridged arcs. One arm let go of him and the sound of a semi automatic blasted through the room, the recoil wracking both of them as the invading guards went down in a pool of blood. No one was taking chances. More footsteps rushed down the hall. More clips emptied into their bodies. Trowa wanted to help, but he couldn’t even focus. He couldn’t even see Heero’s face or even silhouette as he blasted apart guard after guard to protect his friend. All Trowa could think of was telling Heero to make sure Quatre was taken care of. He needed to know! Thinking as quickly as his fuddled brain could, Trowa forced his arm up, the ring glinting in the frozen room as bullets showered the door from his rescuer. Suddenly, a hand grasped his, another gundanium and platinum ring clinking against its partner. “I need backup at my positions!!!” His rescuer demanded, holding Trowa closer to his own warmth. The scent, the voice, the ring. It was Quatre! That idiot had come in guns blazing after him and put himself in danger! Another shower of bullets spewed from Quatre’s semi-automatic, blasting holes through the concrete. More bullets from outside issued forth, some landing right into the bulletproof armor Quatre was wearing as his only protection. Trowa used all his strength to clasp his lover’s hand firmly in his again. Trowa wasn’t going to go down until he was sure Quatre was safe! The amount of crossfire increased, and the screams beyond the door increased. The room was suddenly flooded with bodies!!! Quatre wasn’t firing, and Trowa was too weak to even bat at his knife to help. But then Trowa felt himself being lifted by his husband, dragged over to the tallest of the invaders. The barrage of gunfire started anew, but this time it was coming from the army of invaders. The army was covering them, moving them out of the god forsaken cell! Trowa felt warmth begin to seep into his pours after a few steps out of that frigid room! Quatre was right there, stripping out of the armor to wrap himself around Trowa for warmth while the maguanac closed ranks around them to create an impenetrable moving shield of bodies. Soon, they were out in the cold again, the air spearing Trowa’s lungs with each shallow suck of breath. “We’re almost there, baby. Hold on!” Quatre’s voice was whispering into his ear. Suddenly, Trowa realized he could hear the sounds of chopper blades whirling, louder and louder with each of his dragging, jolting steps closer. Trowa felt himself being grabbed under his arms and hoisted up so fast it made his head spin. There were blankets being heaped up on top of him and warm water bottles that felt scalding against his skin shoved between layers of wool. He was still so unbearably cold! Shivers began to wrack his body again, but then, there were warm arms moving the blankets and crawling in with him, Quatre wrapping himself around his husband protectively, “I thought I’d lost you.” Quatre half sobbed, half whispered into Trowa’s ear, moving his hands up and down Trowa’s frozen back, “I love you, Trowa.” Trowa knew he couldn’t say it back, but he squeezed Quatre hard, and pushed his frozen lips to Quatre’s. He responded back with a subtle kiss, little specs of tears beginning to form in thanks. Suddenly, the shivers weren’t so bad anymore. Trowa rested his head against his lover’s shoulder, knowing he could trust Quatre to hold him when he needed it. The shivers racked his body again, but this time Quatre was there, soothing him, rubbing circles around his back. He was still cold, frozen cold, but it was only the outside now. Quatre had warmed the inside. The shivers were just a reminder of how warm he once was and could be again. Quatre pressed a kiss to Trowa’s temple as the chopper lifted frantically, the blonde easing a few strands of hair out of Trowa’s eyes as he laid with his husband, clutching their hands together. Trowa shivered again, the near-convulsions snapping his body taught and ridged. But his hand was clutched back, equally fierce. Quatre’s grip fought against the shivers. Trowa was exhausted, barely able to open his eyes, but he knew he had to let his husband know he was still with him. He had to thanks the crazy bastard for coming in after him. Trowa squeezed Quatre’s hand, the squeeze back enough to tell Trowa he was heard and understood. Suddenly, the shivers weren’t as powerful anymore.
Quatre’s grip was stronger.
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