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"Persistence"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: I own Gundam Wing, a dragon (which
resides in my back yard) and possess the ability to fly at will. Pairings: 3x4 Spoilers: For episodes 3-10 Warnings: Romance, heavy lime, angst, sappy moments,
language, violence. I start out very much following the series, but
it doesn’t last long and will slide into a TWT. Some OOC (I gave
Trowa an actual personality, based on my interpretation of his character
in the series. It conflicts with the fanon view, which is why I’m
putting up the warning.) Rating: R Archived: Gundam Wing Diaries Betas: Velvet and Caitilin /thought/ *emphasized* <<vid or comm>>
"Persistence " Chapter 5 “I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
Trowa had hidden Heavyarms in a different direction
than Sandrock, so they split to get their Gundams. It meant sliding
in snow and fighting through the occasional drift for Trowa. He hadn’t
packed a coat—like an idiot—and was wearing his favorite
green Twenty feet from Heavyarms, he stumbled into a drift, ripping his sweatshirt on a clawing tree branch in the process. “Shit!” Twisting, he looked at his back. There was a rip about six inches long, and it was a very jagged one. Well, maybe Cathy could fix it. She was pretty good at mending things. He fought his way free of the snow and slid the rest of the way to Heavyarms, gaining a few more rips here and there in his sweatshirt. He was soaked through when he finally did manage to get into his Gundam, and rather unhappy about the whole day in general. It took no time at all to boot up and start moving down the mountain. He and Quatre had a rendezvous point away from the base’s security perimeter. “Quatre.” <<Here. These snow drifts are ridiculous!>> “Tell me about it. Where are you?” <<Um, right behind you. I can kind of see you through the trees.>> A moment later he stepped into view. <<Hi!>> Trowa smiled back without even thinking about it. “Hi. Ready to go somewhere warm?” <<Yup. I was thinking either southern California or somewhere along the equator.>> “I think Southern California is a better pick.” Trowa felt a prickle of amusement. Quatre just didn’t have enough meat on him to stay warm. He was too used to living in a desert, too, which didn’t help. <<California it is! Just follow me.>> + It was an eight hour flight to the safe house Quatre had. (Safe Mansion was actually a better term. It did have what they needed, though. The hangar they were in was well hidden in the mountain, so he at least didn’t have to worry about that.) It was funny how quick a virus could get into your system. Trowa tried to hide it, and managed it fairly well right up to the point where he climbed out of Heavyarms and dropped a little too heavily to the ground. “Trowa?” Quatre frowned as he jogged up. Being unbalanced like that wasn’t at all on par with his acrobat lover. When he was close enough he saw that Trowa was unnaturally flushed and wasn’t quite steady on his feet. He put a hand against the forehead and winced. “You’ve got a fever. When did you start feeling sick?” “Only about two hours ago.” Trowa was slightly stuffed up, so the words were a little strange sounding. “Uh-oh. I bet it was from crawling through all that snow and sitting around in wet clothes afterwards. Come on, let’s get some cold medicine into you.” Trowa allowed himself to be maneuvered into the house. He frankly didn’t care where he went as long as there was something fairly comfortable to lay on once he got there. Quatre took him right to the master suite, door closing behind him. “Get out of those clothes. Do you want a bath?” Trowa shook his head dumbly, fumbling layers of clothes off. “I’m just tired.” “Right.” Quatre settled him into the bed tenderly, making sure that he was slightly propped up so he could breathe a little easier. Trowa barely managed a smile at him in thanks before falling deeply asleep. “Poor Trowa,” Quatre whispered as he quietly exited the room. He’d intended to take Trowa here so that they could spend some time in warmth and sunshine, just to relax and learn how to be comfortable in being partners. /Well…I guess this will teach him he can depend on me, although I wish he wasn’t sick!/ Now, what did one do for curing colds? Blank. Okay, who could he ask? Wait, it couldn’t just be anyone. He would need a doctor, but he couldn’t trust most doctors because of who they were. Hm. Well, okay, maybe he should ask Wufei. The teenager seemed to have very good information sources, he could surely tell him of a doctor that was trustworthy. Settling in behind his desk in the study just off the bedroom, Quatre turned on the vidphone and dialed in Wufei’s comm number. It rang three times before it was answered. “Chang Wufei?” The Chinese teenager nodded slowly. <<From Barton’s description…you must be Quatre.>> “That’s right. Quatre Raberba Winner. I am sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but I need a doctor. Trowa’s sick, but I don’t know who to call.” <<Ah. The only doctor that I know of is Sally Po. She’s in the Resistance in China. Will that do?>> Quatre frowned slightly. “I think so. I just need advice on medicines. Can I have her number?” <<Certainly.>> Wufei rattled it off easily, as well as the email address. <<Her phone doesn’t always work in the area she’s in. I’d try her email first. Anything else?>> “No, thank you. How about you? Are you okay? Trowa said both of you were fine and there wasn’t any major damage, but that was a week ago.” <<I’m still fine.>> Wufei’s cocked eyebrow arrogantly declared that he was *always* fine. “Good. The offer for assistance or just for company is always open. I don’t want any of us stranded alone when we don’t need to be.” <<…he certainly has you pegged. No, Winner, I’m fine on my own. I will, however, keep your offer in mind if I ever need it.>> And that was probably the best he could do at the moment. “Okay. Thank you again, Wufei.” <<Chang, out.>> Quatre blew out a breath. Sally Po, eh? He booted up his computer, mentally categorizing symptoms until he could open up his mail and send her a message. To: soldiergirl@patches.com Dr. Po: Sorry for this unexpected email. I’m Quatre Raberba Winner, Gundam Pilot 04. I have a friend of mine who’s sick, and when I asked Wufei he directed me to you. I know you can’t come and check up on him, but I was wondering if you could give me some advice. It’s apparently a cold of some sort. He’s running a temperature of 102, dry coughing, sore throat and the beginnings of a sinus congestion. I’ve never played nurse maid before and have no idea what medicines to buy. What do you recommend? Thank you for the time! QRW ------- Satisfied, he sent it off. There. While he was waiting for a reply, he was going to take a hot shower and then see if he could do anything about Trowa’s sweat shirt. He’d hate for him to lose that sweat shirt. For one thing, he loved seeing Trowa in it but for another it was apparently a favorite, judging how often Trowa wore it. He wasn’t much on sewing, but maybe he could find a seamstress in town that could mend it for him. + Sally worked out the kinks in her neck as she settled in for the night. The laptop beeped on her desk and she gave it a glare. “I’m off duty!” The laptop, naturally, did not deign to reply. Knowing her luck, if she ignored it, it would be the one and only time that Wufei would try to contact her. Curse it. Muttering sourly she stood up and clicked into her mail. The address was unknown, but the subject line…Wufei had directed them to her? Well, well. That was interesting. Sally clicked into it and read it through. So Wufei had met some of the other Gundam pilots? And apparently they were on fairly friendly terms, too. Good. She didn’t like seeing the arrogant dragon alone. Sinking onto the collapsible camp stool/computer chair, she started writing a reply. To: blondie@cuteanddeadly.org Hello, Quatre. I’m very glad to hear that my irritable friend is still alive and kicking. I’m also glad to see that he’s met up with at least two of you. As for your friend (I am correct, I hope, in assuming that he is another Gundam Pilot?) I can give you a few things to go off of. The main ingredient to look for is decongestant plus cough suppresant. Get lots of throat lozenges, Halls is the best, and tissues. Colds are one of those things that last a week without medicine and seven days with medicine. You’re just treating symptoms with medicine. He’ll just have to tough it out. Feed him lots of liquids and soups, and he’ll be fine. If there is anything else you need to know, don’t hesitate to ask. Sally ---- + Mission parameters: Attain medical supplies for Trowa Barton. Time estimated: Twenty minutes. Or so Quatre had thought, until he stood in front of the medical aisle in a local drug store. He was glad now that he had asked Sally Po for advice. There were *gazillions* of name brands and different drugs for colds. He must have read twenty labels before he decided on which ones to buy. There was a day medicine as well as a night medicine, and since it was obviously of the same brand he picked it up too. After all, he would need medicine for the day as well as nighttime, right? The lozenges were harder. There was literally dozens of choices in Halls alone. He wasn’t sure if he should get the cherry ones, or the citrus ones, or…finally he just bought one of each. Trowa could tell him which ones he preferred. He had two full plastic bags by the time he was done, and the cashier who had checked him out was biting back a smile. He scowled at her, flushing slightly. Okay, so it was probably overkill, but he wasn’t sure which was the best choice and he didn’t want to make multiple trips! He hurried home, wanting to make it back before Trowa was awake. He didn’t quite make it. Trowa was sitting up in bed a little, frowning, when he came through the door. “Hey. I’ve got you a ton of medicine. You’ll have to tell me which ones you like. How do you feel?” Trowa’s frown smoothed out when he caught sight of the blond. “Stuffed up.” “Hm. I’ve got something for that in here.” Plopping the bags on the bed, Quatre started digging through them. “I think it was the Dayquil.” It was only when the bags were put down that Trowa realized that everything in them was medicine, of one sort or another. “Quatre.” “Hm?” “How much did you *buy*?” Quatre looked up, shrugged, then went back to rooting. “Well, I wasn’t sure what tasted good and what would work best, so I just kind of bought something of everything.” “Its medicine, it’s not supposed to taste good.” “Well, surely some tastes worse. Ah!” He pulled a white box out of the bag and started to open it. “You still have some water, right? Good, take two of these now.” Trowa just gave in. It was easier to just let Quatre pamper him than to put up a fuss. Besides, no one had ever pampered him before. He kind of enjoyed the feeling. Quatre darted in a few times, rearranging things to where he could easily access them, then darted back out with firm orders to call if he did need anything. He was asleep again when the medicine kicked in, and probably would have stayed that way if he hadn’t heard raised voices next door. One of them was Quatre’s, and sounded a little exasperated. But the others were deeper, and ones he didn’t recognize. Concerned, he pulled himself out of bed and started
for the door. It was a bit tricky, because his head felt like wool
and he kept tilting a little when he tried to walk. He absolutely
hated it when he got colds. His whole body just ached and wouldn’t
obey He cracked open the door quietly and stood just outside it. Quatre was sitting on a desk, arms crossed and with a mulish _expression on his face. Uh-oh. He’d come across that _expression before. It was never a good thing. Surrounding him were a half dozen men, probably Arabs (the fez thing gave them away) with ‘upset’ written all over them. Ah. Apparently Quatre’s Maguanacs had caught up with him. Trowa leaned against the doorway and prepared himself to be entertained. “Master Quatre, you cannot go off into battle alone!” Quatre rubbed his forehead, counted to ten, then responded. “We’ve been over that mission. I wasn’t alone. I met Trowa on the way and fought with him.” “One person isn’t enough for backup!” someone grumbled. “We know you, you’re always in the middle of the action. It takes all of us to keep up with you.” /And even then you can’t manage it./ Trowa stifled a snicker. “Auda,” Quatre started patiently, “that last battle was a complete disaster. We had allies fighting each other, mixed orders and information, impossible odds…it was a mess. I had a hunch it would be, which is why I didn’t drag you in there with me.” “That’s the point, Master!” someone else with sunglasses protested. “In those situations, you need us *more*, not less!” /When Quatre referred to them as ‘hulking, over-grown mother hens’ he hadn’t been kidding./ “Alright, I’m sorry, but the point is that nothing but a Gundam could have survived that battle. You saw the shape Sandrock was in! You should know. Besides, this last mission wasn’t a battle. It was simple surveillance.” “Then you shouldn’t have had a problem with some of us going with you.” “I had backup,” Quatre retorted. “It doesn’t take more than two people to do the job. As it turns out, one was too much. Nothing was happening there.” “And who was it?” the towering man asked suspiciously. “The pilot you brought here last time?” “Yes, it was Trowa.” Trowa stiffened a bit. The Arab giant seemed particularly unhappy with that answer. Quatre caught it too, and his eyes narrowed. “And why is it a problem if it was Trowa, Rashid?” There were some uneasy glances among the men. Trowa made sure to stay in the shadows, barely breathing. This would be a horrible moment for someone to realize he was there. “Master,” Auda said softly, “it was obvious to all of us what happened between you two last time. And…you were so sad when he left. We don’t want to see that happen again.” “Trowa won’t leave.” Quatre said this with unshakable conviction. “Master Quatre, you can’t guarantee that.” “Yes I can,” Quatre shot back. “We’re *partners*. He’s promised to stay with me.” “This is war,” Rashid said gently. “You can’t guarantee that you’ll stay together.” Trowa had enough. This was still a sore spot with Quatre and he didn’t want the blond to suddenly doubt everything all over again. It had been painful enough the first time. He stepped through the door, glaring at all of them. “This war, like any other war, cannot be fought without allies. Your master has taught me that.” “Trowa!” Quatre hopped off the desk and hurried toward him. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.” Trowa resisted when Quatre tried to pull him back into the room. Shaking his head, he muttered “No. I want to make it clear.” “Make what clear?” Quatre muttered back in confusion. Turning back to the watching men, he stated with quiet vehemence, “I’m staying with him. No matter what you do, or think, or say, I’m staying with him.” Quatre slid an arm around his waist, supporting him. He could tell that no one really had a good response to that declaration. “Come on, Trowa,” he murmured tenderly. “You should be sleeping, not arguing with obstinate Maguanacs.” Trowa could see that he had gotten his point across, so he let himself be guided back to bed. He was so tired, it was hard to stay focused, but he had to make sure Quatre understood as well. “Quatre.” “Hm.” He maneuvered his patient under the blankets and started tucking him in. “You’re a good partner,” Trowa informed him fuzzily. “Best partner I ever had. Don’t want to leave you.” Tears were pricking the back of his eyelids. Smiling, he leaned down and kissed the feverish forehead. “Same to you, Trowa.” Satisfied, Trowa went to sleep. + Still in the study, several Maguanacs exchanged significant looks. “Well?” Abdul asked Rashid. “What do you make of that?” Rashid’s eyes never left the door to the master bedroom. “I think…that we need to keep an eye on them.” Auda smirked slyly. “I think the young master has wrapped him around his little finger.” Abdul casually smacked him in the back of the head. “OW!” ~*~*~*~ Footnote: Just a note here, the emails the boys are
sending are very secure. Com'n they're gundam pilots, of course they're
not going to send out info that isn't secure. Caitilin was concerned
for their welfare, which is why I'm mentioning it.
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