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"Odds"Written By: Dùlin Fic #17 In the Thirty Kisses Arc Archive: This arc is archived on this site with permission. Do not reproduce it anywhere without permission. Pairing : 1+4+1 Rating : PG Warnings : Angsty, friendshippy, spoiler for end
of series and the Odds and Evens clips, zero-ness. Disclaimer : Those yummy boys belong to Sunrise
and Bandai. Which are not me.
"Odds" Twelve hours after the last bit of Libra had been blasted by Wing Zero, MO-2 was still swarming with activity. Quatre had gone back to sleep almost immediately after Trowa and Duo's visit, still exhausted by the recent anesthesia and in pain from his wound. Their toast to the peace had been tinged with relief to know that all of them were accounted for and incredulity that peace was actually established, even if more from lack of weapons than anything else. In spite of his protestations that other people needed help more than he did, Quatre had been treated first and given a room to himself. He didn't want to be given the VIP treatment any more than Sally wanted to give it to him, but neither of them had had much choice in the matter. Thankfully, Quatre's wound was more spectacular than serious and was dealt with accordingly, leaving Sally to attend to more pressing matters. Quatre sat up slowly and unbuckled the strap that held him down on the bunk. The satellite had been quite damaged during the battle, and gravity hadn't been restored everywhere. The rooms where it functioned were being used as medical wards and operating theaters. Another one near the mobile suit emergency exit had been transformed into a morgue. Une had insisted that as many bodies as possible be recovered so that they could be buried with due ceremony or sent back to their families. Treize's body hadn't been found so far. Quatre didn't know if Une actually held any hope in that regard. Few people could survive the explosion of their mobile suit, and Tallgeese, no matter how powerful, was made of neo-titanium. It tended to blow up with more ease than gundanium did. Quatre looked at the perfusion for a while, debating whether to take it with him or simply pull the needle out. He ended up unfastening the pouch from its magnetic stand. He could always make sure it floated high enough in the Zero-G sectors, and carry it the rest of the way. Reaching the door proved to be more difficult than he had initially thought, without the help of magnetic soles to help anchor you on a solid surface if you needed it, but he managed without too much trouble. People were alternating between walking and floating around effortlessly, attending to the task assigned to them with single-minded effort. All in all, the place looked like a very quiet beehive. The silence was sporadically broken by static and orders issued by a radio or the clank of tools. Most of the worker's faces expressed the same stunned feeling that Quatre was still experiencing, and no one spoke. Quatre wasn't exactly sure of where he was going, or why. He dodged techs, mechanics and medical staff alike, making sure to stay out of their way and to remain unnoticed. It was unlikely that anyone would recognize his face, and the hospital gown and the perfusion would be enough to deflect any kind of questions, but since he didn't know where he was going, he didn't want anyone else to know either. He passed by Dorothy, slumped in a chair and sleeping. She wasn't handcuffed, but next to her sitting on the floor was an Oz soldier with a gun. No one had even thought about asking them to surrender their weapons. There weren't many prisoners to begin with. White Fang's main weapons had been the Libra and the Virgos. Neither necessitated as big a crew as one would think. Quinze and Zechs were both presumed dead. Dorothy was the only one left. She slept, oblivious to the fact, and her guard was starting to doze off as well. Quatre didn't see any other familiar face around, and he left the room quickly in a search of a less busy place. He was making a nuisance of himself staying in the way when he couldn't help, and he didn't want people to ask questions. It took a bit of walking on cold metal floors and of navigating in Zero-G before reaching an empty corridor, and a storeroom whose shelves had been cleared of anything that the techs could use. The large window that looked out onto space on the other side of the room drew him like a moth to a flame. A light shove with his foot was all it took to bring him right there and touch the cool glass. He fumbled around for a minute, trying to find something to hold onto. If he had been standing on solid ground, he would have jumped five feet in the air and knocked whoever was stupid enough to grab a Gundam pilot at unawares out cold for a few hours. As it was, he could do little more than resist the sudden grip on his arm and try to pull away from it while favoring his injured side. "It's me, Quatre." The adrenaline gradually seeped out of Quatre's body as he identified the owner of both the voice and the arm. "Heero." Now that his eyes were a bit more accustomed to the dark he could see the other pilot sitting on the little ledge just below the window, still in his space suit. He looked tired. "The others ?" Heero asked softly, as if someone could eavesdrop. "02 and 03 came by a while earlier. I didn't see 05 but I assume he is safe and around here somewhere." Heero nodded once, his hand holding Quatre firmly in place and preventing him from drifting away. He noticed the needle held by tape, and the pouch. "It's empty," he said. "Is there anything we could put it in to make sure it won't drift away ?" They found a small box that had a lid and that would have to do until they found a hazardous refuse container. Heero tugged on Quatre's arm to make him come closer and deftly extracted the needle. Quatre stuffed the whole thing into the box while Heero held onto him. The box itself was magnetized and stuck to the floor once put there. "We could have died out there." Quatre's voice held that edge of amazement again, making the sentence almost a question, and the arm encircling his waist tensed for a second, before allowing the Sandrock pilot to turn around and watch outside. "We could have died every day," Heero whispered back. "It wouldn't have been the same," Quatre said, shaking his head. "If we had died today it would have felt … unfair, for some reason." MO-2 was now surrounded by a belt of wreckage. A passage
had been cleared between the debris for the shuttles who brought the
wounded "I thought I would die," Heero said as a closer explosion gave an orange glow to the room. "I didn't want to, but … it was a possibility." Quatre gave a start, although it wasn't that perceptible in Zero-G and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted. "It didn't happen. That's all that matters." "Did Zero tell you something ?" Quatre asked. Heero shook his head. Quatre shivered, burying his face in his hands, and he felt Heero's hold tightening on him until his head was resting on Heero's shoulder, his arms trapped between their bodies. "I hate him," he muttered. Heero's lips moved against his gaunt, clammy cheek. "So do I." OWARI
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