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"Heartbreak Café"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Smut, Threesome
- M/M/M, Polyamory, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Rimming, Top/Bottom
Dynamics, implied infidelity, Breakup, Disability Pairings: 5x2, 5x2x4, 3x4, 3xMidi Une Summary: After Trowa breaks his heart, Quatre
leaves his life behind to open a coffee shop called the Heartbreak
Café. Just when he finally begins to pick up the shattered
pieces of his life, his two newest customers arrive to usurp the delicate
balance. " Heartbreak Café" Chapter 3: Starting Over His first moments of awareness were of incoherence and confusion. Blobs of light and blurry faces appeared through eyes that hurt. There was the soft murmurs of what he thought were voices, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. There was pain in some of his slightly more unambiguous moments. A roaring agony from the waist down. His consciousness flitted in and out and he had no idea what was happening, or where he was. The fleeting thought that he was dead and in Hell bubbled to the forefront of his mind before it was lost again in a sea of pain and bewilderment. These moments seemed endless, something he couldn't count, or keep track of. He had no sense of time, only frightening disorientation. He tried to speak, tried to scream, but the only thing he could do was whimper and groan. There were soft touches on his face, his head, and a soothing voice, shaky with tears. "It's okay, Quat. Just hang in there. You're going to be okay." Quat? Is that my name? What happened? Where am I? Am I dead? The questions he couldn't voice died on lips that wouldn't vocalize them and then they were gone again as his consciousness faded away. Sometime later, though he didn't know how much later, he roused with slightly more lucidness than he had before. The first thing he heard was the beeping. His groggy mind struggled to make sense of it. His first thought was that he was at Rosita's, hearing the beeping from within the kitchen that usually occurred when an order was up. It was the last thing he remembered for some odd reason. But his equilibrium told him that he was lying flat. There was a powerful hiss next to his ear and he noted with a little panic that something was lodged in his throat. His confused mind made the conclusion that he was in the restaurant and that he was choking on his food. He struggled weakly, hands scrabbling up his chest, coming in contact with a long tube that went to the side, in the direction of the hissing sound. He tried to take a deep breath, disoriented when it seemed air was being pushed into his lungs and then sucked back out. It was steady, controlled. His fingers wrapped around the tube and he tugged at it, his eyes cracking open. He was met with blurry light and not much else. Scared, he glanced around, not knowing where he was, what was happening. In his mind, there was a strange, and extremely loud screeching sound and he pulled harder on the tube, trying to yank it out. A familiar face appeared in his line of sight, blurry, but he vaguely recognized it, recognized the caring voice. "It's okay, sweetheart. Don't fight the machine." He whimpered around the tube, terrified. A soft, gentle hand brushed his hair away from his face. "Quat, honey, don't fight it. It's breathing for you until you can do it on your own." It wasn't reassuring and Quatre struggled harder. What machine? And why is it breathing for me? What the hell happened? He realized with a sudden start that his body was immobilized, felt pinned down with heavy weights, unable to move which made him panic even more. He tossed his head back and forth, tears collecting in his eyes, trying to convey his confusion. "Baby, I know. Just relax. Ssh. It's okay. You need to relax." Instead of relaxing, he flailed, his limbs jerking weakly off the bed, desperate to get this thing out of his throat. The woman turned and shouted, "Nurse!" Her eyes were wide when she turned back to him. "They're going to have to sedate you again if you don't calm down, honey. Please." There was a flurry of movement, hands wrapping around his wrists and pressing them down onto the mattress. More faces appeared above him. "Mr. Winner, you need to calm down." He tried to speak and couldn't around the plastic in his mouth, wanting so badly to know what had happened. He couldn't remember. He watched as someone in a white uniform step up and fiddle with a bag that hung on a metal pole beside him and he realized with a start that he was in a hospital. Something had happened, but he couldn't remember what. He struggled against the hands holding him, trying to fight them, but he was as weak as an infant. His body would not cooperate. "Mr. Winner, we're giving you a mild sedative. It's just to relax you so you don't fight the ventilator, okay?" He could feel the onset of the grogginess, quickly overtaking the fear and he glanced frantically at the familiar face, begging her to make them stop. She smiled at him, her eyes sad. "It's okay. You're going to be fine." No! It's not fine! What happened to me? What happened? His eyelids grew heavy, his limbs suddenly feeling like ten ton weights, relaxing under the influence of whatever they'd given him. His consciousness dimmed again, but a name surfaced in his mind before it was gone. Sister. She's my sister. Adila. His eyes closed and he drifted off. He came to he didn't know how much later. This time, the obstruction in his throat was gone, replaced by a small tube beneath his nose. He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He could see much clearer now, easily recognizing the inside of a hospital room. His mind was clearer, too, and memories came back to him as he blinked up at the ceiling. He remembered Rosita's. Remember talking to his sister about the breakup with Trowa. Remembered her telling him to leave the business to their sister, Marisa. It got a little fuzzy after that. He could remember walking down the sidewalk, bits and pieces of thoughts coming back to him. He remembered the coffee shop. That's right, I was thinking about opening my own coffee shop. Then what happened? Oh, yes. Now I remember. Trowa called. I was talking to him and then I crossed the street. Oh, Christ! I was hit by a car! He glanced down at his body. His legs were covered in casts, but he was relieved to note that his toes wiggled on command. He wasn't paralyzed then. He huffed out a soft breath, some of the tension in his body fading, and turned his head at the sound of shifting to his left. Adila was sleeping in the chair next to his bed. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her. Of course she was here. She always had been there for him. He remembered her hovering over him when he woke up the first time, telling him not to fight the ventilator. How long had she been here? How long had he been here? He glanced around, eyes taking in the numerous bouquets of flowers scattered around the room. He stared in awe at the balloons and the cards, all with messages of 'Get Well Soon!' scribbled across them in big, swooping letters. "Quat?" He turned his head at the sound of his sister's voice and gave her a tired grin when their eyes met. He forced out a weak, "Hey," around a dry, painful throat. "Oh, thank God!" She sat up and rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and leaned forward. "How are you feeling?" "Like I've been hit by a car." "So you remember what happened?" "Mostly." She sighed and nodded. "The bastard that hit you took off. They did find him, though. He's in jail. Serves the fucker right." She turned soft eyes on him, her expression one of deep emotional turmoil. "I thought we'd lost you." "I'm sorry." Though he wasn't sure why he was apologizing. For her obvious agony, he supposed. "What are my injuries?" "Well, your legs were crushed, your pelvis was smashed. You had massive internal bleeding. Your internal organs were all banged up and bruised. They had to remove your spleen because it ruptured." He snorted. Fucking hell, but I am a hot mess. What else is new? "Is that all?" She smiled. "Those are the highlights. God, Quat! I was so worried. You've been in a coma for nearly two weeks -" "Two weeks?!" He winced as his voice squeaked. "You were badly hurt. They had to do emergency surgery on you to try to stop the bleeding. They had you on the ventilator, but you kept fighting it so they had to keep you under until you could breathe on your own." Her eyes misted over. "You scared the shit out of me. What the hell were you thinking?" "I got a - got a call from Trowa. I don't know, I just...went to cross the street. I checked both ways, but I never saw him." "The witnesses said he came out of nowhere. He was speeding, too." Her eyes darkened with concern, but she seemed reluctant to voice it, as if something had been weighing on her that was too terrible to speak of. "You didn't...I mean, you weren't trying to -" "Adila, no! No, I...no, it wasn't deliberate." Her eyes wavered, wanting to believe him. "Are you sure?" He reached for her hand, squeezed his fingers around hers. "No. I promise you it was not intentional. I was sad, but not suicidal. I swear. I did check and I thought the coast was clear. I honestly never saw him coming." She stared into his eyes, seeking truth, the need to know he wasn't trying to kill himself. At last, she nodded and leaned back, a sigh of relief on her lips. "I believe you." "Good." He smiled and reached up to rub a hand down his face, cringing in revulsion when he felt at least a week's worth of beard on his cheeks. "Ugh." Adila giggled. "Sorry. Your beard was the last thing anyone was worried about." She tilted her head, eyes playful. "It gives you a real manly edge. Rugged. And that's saying something in your case." "Har har. I wake up from a coma only to have my sister make fun of me. Thanks a lot, sis." He glanced at her, suddenly curious. "Have you been here this whole time?" She shrugged. "Just about. Some of the other sisters came for a while, though they couldn't stay." He had to ask. "Any other visitors?" "Your secretary was here. She brought those flowers and that balloon." She pointed to a colorful vase filled with yellow roses and a heart-shaped balloon that said, 'Sorry you're feeling bad'. There was a sinking feeling in his chest, already knowing the answer to his next question. "Is that it?" She knew what he was thinking and nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so, sweetheart." He nodded and looked down. He nearly died and apparently Trowa couldn't even find the time to come see him. It hurt. "Hey, forget about him. That just goes to show what kind of person he is and you don't need people like that in your life. If you ask me, you're better off." She squeezed his hand. He didn't feel better off. He felt monumentally screwed out of life. Cursed. He gets dumped then gets hit by a car. With his luck, he'd get flattened by a stray meteor the moment he stepped out of the hospital. Why the hell not? The universe was not his bedfellow. Speaking of which. "Am I going to be walking anytime soon?" "Not for a while. Couple of months probably. You'll be in a wheelchair until your legs heal. They were really crunched up, Quat. You've probably got about twenty pounds of titanium holding your legs together right now." He tipped his head back onto the pillow. "Wonderful." The news just kept getting better. Next, you'll tell me they found a giant tumor in my nutsac, he thought bitterly. "You're also going to require months of physical therapy before you're walking anywhere near normal. The doctor said you will still need the assistance of a cane, or something after that. Arthritis is also going to be a problem down the road." He blinked back tears. He was never going to be the same. His body was irreversibly changed and now he was probably going to need to walk with a cane for the rest of his life. Just great. Now I'm a cripple. Swell news for my future love life. I'm sure the guys will be all over me. I guess it's time to cash in the dating card and join a bridge club. I've always wanted to learn how to knit. "Stuck with a cane, walking like an old man at twenty five. Sounds exciting." "Oh, come on now. It could be worse, you know. You could be paralyzed. You could be dead. So no pity parties out of you." He knew the last thing his sister would do was allow him to feel sorry for himself. "I just can't help feeling like some divine creature has it out for me." Cthulhu, why have you forsaken me? "If that's how you want to look at it. Or, you could look at it as some immense challenges have been thrown your way. Are you going to be weak and let it control you? Or, are you going to fight to get better every day, to be the best you can possibly be and show the world you are not a quitter?" He stared at her and chewed his lip. "You're strong, Quat. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. Am I going to allow you to lie there and wallow in self-pity? Hell, no. I am going to help you get better and I am going to watch you show the world that Winners do not lay down and give up when they've hit a bump in the road." He sighed and nodded. "You're right. I'm still alive which is more than some people have. I'm also not paralyzed and I will walk again." He smiled at her. "That's the spirit! Now, you're talking. It'll take some time, but you'll get there." She brushed his hair back. "I'm not going to let you get caught up in what you can't do. We're going to focus on what you can do." "Thanks, sis." "I love you, kiddo. Don't ever doubt that. You'll get through this. We'll get through it together." After another week, Quatre was able to get out of bed. He swung his legs, heavy and stiff with plaster, over the side and scooted his butt off the edge of the mattress. He used his arms to lift himself over into the waiting wheelchair that Adila held out for him. He sunk down with a sigh, tired from just that tiny amount of activity, and she helped him position his legs into the holders so that his feet wouldn't drag on the floor. She turned the chair and wheeled him out of the hospital room. He had initially been dreading it, not wanting anyone to see him like this, but he found, after a week of staring at the same walls day in and day out, he was eager for some new surroundings and definitely ready for some fresh air. He nodded to the staff and other patients they passed on their trek down the hallway and smiled and waved, a little awkwardly when they greeted him warm enthusiasm. "How are you doing, Mr. Winner?" "Good to see you up and about, Mr. Winner." Adila tapped his shoulder as they paused to wait for the elevator and she affectionately ruffled his hair when he looked up at her. "You good?" He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so." There was a ding and the elevator doors opened. Adila pushed him into the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor. They waited in companionable silence for a few minutes as the elevator began its descent. "It's good to get out of that room." "I'm sure it is. You haven't been out of there for three weeks." He chuckled. "Granted, for two of them I wasn't even conscious." She squeezed his shoulder. "Let's put that behind us, shall we?" He felt a wave of guilt for not only putting her through that, but for disrupting her own life to take care of him. "I'm sorry, Adila." "For what, hon?" "All of this. You know you don't have to be here the whole time. I feel like I'm taking you away from your life." "I don't have a life, dear. Remember? You're taking me away from work, which I thank you for." "Still, you should be out doing things, not here taking care of me." She squatted down to be eye level with him. "Quat, I'm here because I want to be here." "Or because you feel you need to be." He couldn't help but notice as he was sure Adila had, that no one was really stepping up to help him out. The rest of their sisters, some of them anyway, had put in their appearances while he was still comatose so that they could say they'd been there, but there'd been nothing since he'd woken up. He couldn't help but feel hurt by that and guilty that all of the burden had been stacked on Adila. "Hey, I am not here because I feel obligated to be. You understand?" She gave him a firm look. He stared back for a moment, gauging her sincerity, and nodded in relief. "I am here because I want to be. You're my little brother and you need me. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. All I want is to help you get back on your feet. Okay?" He nodded again and took a deep breath, letting it out in a soft sigh. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Addie." She ruffled his hair and grinned. "No need to thank me, kiddo. I know you're a tough nut to crack. That accident would have killed a normal person. But Winners are not normal people and you, my dear brother, are the least normal of all of us." "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" She shrugged. "It's whatever you want it to be." The doors opened and she pushed him out into the lobby. It was a solarium of sorts, completely encased in glass and filled with plants of all kinds. There was a beautiful fountain in the center and when they passed by it, Quatre looked down and saw schools of fancy goldfish and quite a number of glittering silver qirsh. The workers, patients, and visitors loitering around the lobby inevitably stared at him, shock evident on their faces. It wasn't every day the most influential man of L4 was wheeled past you with his casted legs sticking out in front of him. He offered them polite smiles and, awe-struck, they smiled back, delighted to see him. An elderly couple approached them and Adila slowed the chair down as the woman leaned over. Her face was deeply lined, but warm and genuine and she smelled strongly of oud. "I'm so happy to see you up and about, Mr. Winner." Her voice was soft and ruddy and she spoke with a heavy Kurdish accent. "We heard what happened and we were so worried - everyone's been so worried about you. We're so glad to see you're doing better." "Thank you, Madam. I really appreciate that." He shook her hand and smiled up at her and the man beside her who bent slightly at the waist in a show of respect. Adila pushed the chair again towards the front doors and he waved at the woman as they passed her. "We were praying for you!" He looked over his shoulder and offered her his most charming smile. "Looks like it worked. Thank you." Adila pushed him through the automatic doors. "See? Everyone's been pulling for you." "What's the news been like?" "Not too bad actually. All of the outlets have been wishing you a speedy recovery." "Do they know about..." "Yes. And they've been surprisingly gentle on that front, believe it, or not." "Well, then I suppose something good came out of all this. Even if it was just to buffer the news of the breakup." The sun hit him in the face along with the warm, gentle breeze of L4′s climate-controlled air and he lifted his face into it, sucking in a lungful. His lips curled up in bliss and he lifted his arms from the chair's handles. "Ahh! Never thought I'd appreciate the regurgitated air of the colony, but I have to say, it feels marvelous!" "I'm sure it does." Adila pushed him over to a brick ledge and sat down. "I must say, I'm enjoying it, too. I haven't been out of the hospital much myself." She pressed a finger to Quatre's lips. "And don't apologize." He smiled sheepishly and looked away, watching the north and southbound traffic travel up and down Seventh Avenue. "I'm glad to see your spirits rising a little." "Near-death experiences will do that. It's weird, but...everything seems clearer, brighter. The colors are deeper. The air smells sweeter." She nodded. "I've heard that can happen and the doctor even said as much. Just don't..." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Don't be surprised if the sadness comes back. You really didn't have time to grieve before the accident." "I know. I am sad and I know I still need time to grieve. I'm also not so naive to think that the media is going to continue being nice to me out of the goodness of their hearts. No one wants to dump on a dying man. Once I'm all better, I'm sure they will take great pleasure in tearing me apart again." "Don't even worry about that. To hell with them. And to hell with Trowa. You'll find someone better." "I'm not even thinking that far ahead. I'm in no shape for a relationship right now. I just want to focus on my recovery." "That's good. I'm glad to hear that. Perhaps there's hope for you yet." She grinned. He laughed and looked down at his lap, fingers fidgety. "About what we were talking about...you know, at Rosita's?" "Which part?" "About me leaving WEI." "Yeah?" He absently scratched at his arm and glanced over at her. "I've been thinking a lot about it and...I think I'm going to go for it." Adila's eyes widened as excitement lit up her face. "Are you serious?" He nodded. "Yeah. I was beginning to seriously think about it before the accident and after, well...it just seems even more important now. Life is too short and I want to live for me." She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on top of his. "Oh, sweetie! I'm so happy to hear that!" "I think I want to open a coffee shop." She seemed surprised by that. "Really?" "Yeah. Just before Trowa called, right before I got hit, I passed by one and I just...fell in love with the idea. And I mean, you know how much I love coffee and tea and...I don't know. It's just something I think I would enjoy." He glanced up at her, uncertain, needing her approval. "What do you think?" "It's up to you, hon. If that's what you want to do, then go for it." "Yeah, I thought maybe a place on Earth, somewhere on the coast maybe. I love the ocean. And coffee shops are something that will always be in high demand, so..." He quirked a brow at her grin. "What?" "Nothing. You're so cute." He blushed and looked away, shaking his head. Big sisters. "Seriously, though. I'm really glad for you." "You really think it's a good idea?" "Of course! I think it's a wonderful idea." He smiled and tipped his head back, basking in the artificial sunlight. He felt much better. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. "C'mon, Quat! You can do it. Just one more round!" He groaned, his teeth clenched with pain, and pressed his feet into the resistance straps. His legs were killing him, especially after only twenty minutes of physical therapy. He couldn't help but think before the accident, that this would have been no problem for him. But his post-accident body was different. More frail. His legs were still black and blue, not only from the injuries, but the surgeries. His bones were slowly and steadily healing, growing around the titanium rods and plates that made up the structure of his legs now. They would never be the same. Medical ingenuity could only do so much when the damage was extensive. Even when he was fully healed, he would always have difficulty walking. He'd had his casts off for a month now and he was walking around with the aid of a walker. He was still slow-going and he needed to stop and rest frequently, but he'd already begun to notice a minimal amount of increased strength in them and he was getting stronger with each passing day. He still tired quickly, but not as quickly as when he'd first started therapy. Adila worked with him nonstop. Pushed him to his limits and did not let up, or even give him time to stop and feel sorry for himself. "No pain, no gain, kiddo. Keep 'em going. C'mon, push!" He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the burning cramps in his legs and hips. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and he grunted with the effort, managing to work in three more reps. "There you go. One more and I'll treat you to a frappuccino." "Mocha. With caramel." "Whatever you say. Now push. There you go! Good, very good." He tipped his head back, gasping, his legs dropping to the floor. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he caught his breath. "Damn, you're a slave-driver!" Adila patted his knee. "Like I said, no pain, no gain. You want to get better, you gotta work for it." He nodded and caught the towel she tossed at him, wiping the sweat from his face and neck. "Thanks for coaching me through this." "No problem. Hit the showers and I'll get you that frappuccino." "Mocha! With caramel." "Whatever." She disappeared around the corner and he grasped the walker, sliding it closer. He reached up to grip the handles and hoisted himself up to his feet. He pushed the walker in the direction of the locker room, shuffling slowly along on legs that were tired and complaining about being forced to work after what they'd just been put through. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled at them, wincing at the ache. He made it to the locker room and sat down on the bench, gingerly lifting one leg up to remove his shoe and sock, then lifting the other to do the same. He had more difficulty getting his sweatpants off, but eventually managed to remove them. Pulling himself back up, he wobbled to the showers, stepping into the handicapped one, using the wall-mounted supports to hold himself up. The hot water was soothing on his painful legs and he uttered a groan as the heat brought sweet relief to his throbbing muscles. He'd made progress. A lot of it in the past three months. He'd made his doctors and his sister proud with his hard work and perseverance. Of course, his history as a Gundam pilot had probably helped him along. He'd been in great shape before the accident so his recovery reflected that. It would still take some months, maybe even a year before he was deemed "recovered". He'd never be the way he was before the accident, but he was going to try his damnedest to regain as much normalcy as he could. Trowa had finally decided to call him a month ago, but he'd been far too furious to have any kind of meaningful conversation with him. "You didn't even come see me." "I highly doubted you even wanted to see me." "That's not taking into account the first two weeks, when you thought I might die. I was actually comatose and wouldn't have even known you were there, let alone complained about it." It was quiet for a moment. "I sent you some flowers," Trowa said lamely. "Like I give a shit about flowers." "I'm sorry, Quat." "See...you keep saying that, but I don't think you really are. I hope things are going well with Mirdy." He used Adila's mispronunciation deliberately, his voice dripping with spite, then hung up. He was extremely pissed off even though their brief conversation had pretty much gone how he'd expected it to. He had returned home from the hospital after two months to discover the rest of Trowa's stuff gone. He'd come back to pick it up while Quatre was still recovering. It turned out, he was living with the Miidi girl. They'd apparently taken up residence on L3 and were planning on traveling with the circus again in the spring. It infuriated him that Trowa had so easily moved on while Quatre was too busy just learning how to walk again. He wasn't over it. Didn't really have much time to dwell on it in between all the damned therapies he had to undergo just to function on a semi-normal level. On top of all that, Adila had set him up with a psychology therapist as well. "I'm not nuts, Adila." "You don't have to be to seek therapy, Quat." "I'm dealing with it! Why can't I just deal with it in my own way?" "You can! And you are, but it won't hurt to have someone help you through it. Help you put it into perspective." He grudgingly admitted it helped. It was a useful tool in helping him sort out and compartmentalize his grief. He found it wasn't difficult to open up to Dr. Azazel and eventually began looking forward to his appointments. He learned that it was okay to mourn, but that there were healthy ways and unhealthy ways to do it and together, they worked on implementing those healthy habits and coping skills. He had already contacted his lawyers and his sister, Marisa, and informed them that he was signing WEI over to her. She'd snottily told him, "It's about time." Adila had been furious at her attitude towards him and told her as much. He didn't really care much himself at that point. He knew how Marisa was. She would never change. The transition had gone rather smoothly and he was happy to be able to finally wash his hands of it. He began pouring through the real estate sites, looking for a storefront on Earth for a place to open up his coffee shop and he was getting very excited about the prospect. He found one in Venice Beach, California. It was an older building with a rather unique, retro type of architecture that he instantly fell in love with. It would probably require some level of restoration and repair which was likely why it had been vacant for over five years. But he was thrilled at the idea of being able to reflect his own style. He hired a few inspectors to check the building out to make sure the place was sound and up to code. When he got word that everything was on the up and up, he quickly snatched it. He would be moving down there next month once he'd completed his therapies. The shop had a small apartment in the second story of the building. He was a little nervous about the move, but eager to get the ball rolling. He was going to miss having Adila around all the time, but promised they would still get together whenever possible. He was finally feeling more optimistic about his life than he had in a long time. He was even pleasantly surprised to discover an erection sticking up between his thighs when he'd showered the other morning. Now, if that wasn't hope for good things to come, he didn't know what was.
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