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" Black Cross "Written By: Emerald Pillow Disclaimer: I don't own GW or their boys, wish
I did. Warnings: Language; and Angst Pairings: 1+3 Summary: After losing Heero on a mission, Trowa begins a downward spiral in what's left of his life. Rating: PG 13
"Black Cross " Chapter 6 It was a steady beeping. . .one that would have been nerve wrecking if someone were fully conscious. Trowa's eye twitched slightly, causing his visitor to relocate to his side. Soft hands clasped his calloused ones. "Trowa?" It was Quatre's voice, quite and soothing to the point. Slowly, Trowa opened his eyes, or at least the one that wasn't bandaged. The image was fuzzy at first, but he could make out his friend's face. "Quatre. . ." His voice as hoarse from lack of use. "Where am I?" "You're at a Preventers Hospital. You've been comatose for three days." Trowa settled back into his pillows, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing he could remember was the mission turning sour; Heero yelling 'abort'; Heero. . .Trowa sat up straight, startling Quatre, and challenging his heart monitor to speed. "Heero. . .where's Heero?" "Trowa, calm down. Your hip isn't fully healed, moving around-" "Quatre." The deep sapphires took a softer tone, and he clasped Trowa's hand more tightly. "I'm sorry Trowa." "Sorry for what?" "He didn't make it." At first, Trowa could only stare at Quatre in confusion. Tears welled his eyes, despite the fact that he didn't believe his friend's words. "That-that can't be true." Trowa whispered, still waiting for Quatre to reassure him otherwise. Tears spilled Quatre's cheeks as he leaned forward to hug his friend. "Trowa, I'm so sorry." Trowa's gaze remained straight ahead. He didn't return Quatre's embrace, he was too numb to completely comprehend what was said. I don't want to die in a trench. Heero's words echoed in his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to gain control over this new emotion flowing through him. He wasn't even sure what it was. He only knew he didn't what to feel it. Sensing something wrong with his friend, Quatre pulled away and stared into Trowa's features. He had seen this look before; a mixture of shock and denial. Everyone knew Trowa wouldn't take the news well, which was why Quatre was best suited to inform him. "Trowa?" "There has to be a mistake." "There wasn't." "He can't be. . .not him." Quatre attempted to comfort him, but was pushed away. He was surprised to find that Trowa was slightly trembling. "Who confirmed this?" "Sally and Duo." "They're wrong." "Trowa-" "He wouldn't go down like that." "Trowa, the explosion hit him at point blank." "He's survived it before." "He wasn't burned beyond visual recognition before." Trowa's tears spilled and he shook his head. He remembered all too clearly the memory of Heero's self destruct act. It was the first time he had seen the Japanese man. The lean, underdeveloped body had survived a blast powerful enough to destroy Gundumian alloy, so a stock, adult frame should have been able to shake off the blast like it was nothing. Trowa leaned forward, burying his eyes in his good hand that he freed from Quatre's grip. "I need to see him." "There's barely anything left of him to see." Suddenly, Trowa remembered something. Ralph Curt. Ralph was also part of the mission. Furthermore, he and Heero were in the same team. Often times, people confused the two. With injuries it could be easy for such a mix up. "What about Ralph?" "He's in ICU." That was all Trowa needed to know. He ripped the IV from his arm and attempted to lift from the bed. Quatre panicked and pushed him back to the bed. "Trowa, don't. You'll hurt yourself even more. It's not Heero. It's Ralph." "I have to make sure. Either help me, or get out of my way Quatre." "Trowa. . ." Quatre studied his friend's face closely. Through the bandages and injuries, he could see Trowa's determination. Most of the time, he admired that attribute; but sometimes it was hard to handle. Sighing, Quatre slowly removed his hands from Trowa's chest. "Just lie still, and I'll get you a wheelchair." It was a fair trade. Trowa relaxed against the sheets, and Quatre left the room. There had to be some sort of mix-up by the doctors. Not that he wanted Ralph to be dead; but it just didn't make sense that Heero would die from something like that. His thoughts were interrupted as Quatre entered the room with the promised wheelchair. Though the Arab insisted on helping him from the bed to the chair, Trowa refused accomplishing it on his own. The journey toward Ralph's room was a short, but quite one. Trowa couldn't think, even if he had to in order to keep conversation with Quatre. . .furthermore, neither of them would know what to say at this point. The door to his room was open, just in case emergency attention would be needed. Sitting on the edge of his bed was Chris, Ralph's wife of two years. She stood straight at the visitors. She seemed surprised to find Trowa being wheeled into the room. At first, she could only appear confused. Though the two men never showed it, there had always been an air of tension between them. Despite that, as a true solider, they never allowed it to affect their work as Preventers. "Sorry for intruding." Quatre stated softly. "Trowa just wanted-" "I-I think I understand." Chris stated softly as her eyes lowered toward Trowa. "I'm so sorry for your lost. Heero was a great man Trowa. If it wasn't for him, Ralph would have. . ." Tears spilled from her eyes, catching Trowa's attention. She wiped them with the knuckle of her index finger. "Excuse me." She whispered and left the room. Quatre watched after her with sympathetic eyes. When he returned his attention toward Trowa, he found that his friend had already rose from the wheelchair, and was propping himself onto the bed, next to Ralph's unmoving body. Half of his face was bandaged. . .the other half was really too battered to tell much of anything. His left arm was missing; the stub was wrapped tightly in bandages. Trowa's eyes ran his face closely, looking for anything to reveal that his theory of a mix-up was true. If only he could open his eyes, and Trowa could see them. It was all he needed. "What did she mean?" Trowa asked softly without taking his eyes from Ralph. "It took a couple of days to find them. They were lucky enough to have fallen into an air patch in the rubble. The positions of them suggested that Heero had used his body to protect Ralph. . . .I guess he thought he could take it." "It was the other way around." Trowa whispered as his hand tenderly caressed the battered cheek. "This isn't Ralph." It was just as they feared. Quatre stepped over to his friend. He gently rubbed Trowa's shoulder in comfort. "Trowa-" "I know every curve of his face Quatre. Heero's right here." ~ "What are you doing?" "Your cuts look infected." Trowa pushed her hand from him, and leaned more heavily against the wall as his chest started to burn again. "Don't worry about it." "You saved me Trowa, it's the least I can do to thank you." "If you want to thank me, then make sure your daughters don't follow your lead." Nichelle appeared surprised at his words. Trowa pushed to his feet, his stern green eyes focused on her. "You may think that this is the only way, but it's not. This is the easiest way; the way you're most accustom to. Letting someone ravish you isn't how you should live. It would have been fine if it were just you, but it's not. Those children are depending on you. You're the only example they have. . .and don't think, for one second, that you'll be able to fool them forever. They will catch on. . .and they won't forgive." Silence befell the kitchen and Trowa reached for the door. "Thanks. . .for the phone call." He closed the door behind him, and descended the stairwell toward the barred door. The night was calm now. The shoot outs were over. Trowa shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking home. He didn't bother looking back at the building, but he could feel that she was watching him from the window. She was a beautiful woman, and if she ever did get a real job, somehow Trowa felt that she would be a victim of sexual harassment, and she wouldn't say anything. He pushed the thoughts away. It wouldn't matter. They were just another group of people that he would never see again.
Chapter
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