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"Agglomeration"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: R Warnings: Drama, Newtypes Pairings: None Summary: Quatre was never able to understand why
no one else could see what he did, until he met someone who could. "Synesthesia " For the longest time, Quatre couldn’t understand why his father could not see the colors that clung to the people around them. Wrapped around their bodies like a halo of glowing blues, greens, reds, yellows, white, and even black in some cases. Zayeed had blamed Quatre’s nanny and fired her for “filling the boy’s head with fairy tales and mysticism”, insisting that her purpose was only to educate the child in the subjects of academics and etiquette. The five year old was furious, especially when he’d repeatedly told his father that Miss Akhira had done absolutely nothing to influence him. Quatre had watched the colors of his father’s aura flash and change in rapid sequences that his young eyes had trouble keeping up with. The anger and frustration and lack of understanding was felt deep within his heart, his father’s emotions so strong, they’d had a physical impact on Quatre’s tiny body. The child collapsed, his muscles twitched and convulsed in the throes of a seizure and he was immediately rushed to L4's most prestigious hospital where he lay in a medically induced coma for three days. Upon awakening, he was met with the soft, life-worn face of a woman who’d said she was a psychologist that worked for the hospital and that she was there to help. She put the child through a series of tests. Once she was finished, she summoned his father into the room to explain her findings. She revealed that she was under the belief that Quatre was a Newtype, an empath with strong elements of clairvoyance and synesthesia. Not surprisingly, Quatre’s father snidely declared that his son was “not a freak”, demanded a second opinion, and left the room, fuming. The counselor offered Quatre a sympathetic smile and handed him a slip of paper with her phone number on it. She explained to him, in secrecy, that she was also a Newtype and that there was no need to be afraid, though she did warn him that because of his abilities, he would have a difficult time navigating through life. He would need to learn special tricks and tools to help him cope with the sensory overload of emotions. She told him he could call her any time and she would be happy to help him any way she could. Grateful, he slipped the paper into his shoe and took it home, hiding it in a special place in his room where no one would be able to find it. He would call her in the middle of the night, her gentle, reassuring voice putting him at ease. He learned not only how to cope with his abilities, but also how to hone them, sharpen them, and use them to his advantage. She taught him how to read auras and how not to become overwhelmed when another person’s emotions became too much. He learned how block certain things out and compartmentalize others. If it hadn’t been for her, Quatre would have likely had a dismal childhood of seizures and frequent hospital visits. He never told his father. He learned how to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary. His developing experience in reading auras allowed him to see those that meant harm before they could cause it. That knowledge became an important weapon when he joined the war efforts. The auras of the Maguanacs were mixed in a wide spectrum of colors which would have been confusing for someone not knowledgeable in reading them. Quatre was able to easily and knew right away that the men were no real threat to him despite holding him hostage. Quatre had seen more nefarious colors cling to his father. He was not frightened, or intimidated when he met the other Gundam pilots even though outward appearances indicated that he should have been. When he met Trowa, the boy was bathed in a mix of soothing greens and a tinge of black. Quatre was able to separate the colors and decipher what they meant. While there was black, an indication that he was harboring negative emotions and hiding past trauma and a sense of worthlessness, Trowa’s aura predominately glowed a soft green. The tell tale signs of a personality that loved nature and animals. He was a healer, a teacher, a mentor. Indeed, all of the pilots had echoes of black in their auras, but they were muted by their true selves that shined like beacons of hope. Duo’s was a bright, sunny yellow. Wufei’s was red, the color of fire and passion. Heero’s silver was almost blinding, the mark of someone spiritually pure. The only sad part of his gift was that Quatre was not able to see his own aura. It was disappointing and he’d often wished he’d asked the counselor. He supposed he hadn’t because he was a little afraid to find out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. So it came as a bit of a shock, after he’d been snapped out of his vengeful crusade to end war for good thanks to Trowa’s sacrifice, when he’d been helping Heero recover from his injuries, the barely conscious boy slurred through lax lips. “Your gold is so bright. It hurts my eyes.”
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