"Leave A Light On For Me "

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: rape/noncon, prostitution, drug use, drug addiction, homophobia, and abuse of a minor. Please heed the warnings.

Pairings: 3x4, 4xOC'sx4

Summary: After recovering from an addiction to painkillers, Quatre finds himself facing an uncertain future.

" Leave A Light On For Me "

After several months, I was beginning to reach a point where I thought Colin and I really could have something special. It wasn't what I felt for Trowa, but it came close. We had a lot in common and we enjoyed each other's company. The amazing sex was a definite bonus. We understood each other and I think that's important in any relationship. Considering I'd begun fantasizing about a life with him, I could be fairly certain that my feelings for him were developing into something resembling love.

He made the difficult days worth it in the end. He would run me a bath, cook supper, give me massages. Of course, I did my share as well. I discovered I was pretty good at making Italian food. I fell in love with their dishes while frequenting the many diners and cafés and restaurants in the French Quarter. I'd never experienced such a diverse and incredible selection of cuisine. Say what you will about New Orleans, but wow! It's such an amazing epicenter of different cultures. I fell in love with everything French. It gave me a feeling of connection to my mother whom I never got to know. I learned how to deep fry crawfish and hushpuppies, something Colin loved. Growing up, we were only allowed Middle Eastern dishes so I'd never had the chance to experience the vast array of cuisine from different parts of the world.

Not that I didn't love the food of my people. Bri sometimes let me decide which restaurant to go to and I, craving the taste of home, would sometimes choose a place that served Middle Eastern cuisine. I quickly learned which places had the most authentic tastes and Bri loved watching me take pleasure in the nostalgia that it brought.

It was a hot summer Friday in August and I stopped off at the market after work to pick up the ingredients I needed to make Colin Chicken Parmesan, one of his favorite dishes. I was planning on surprising him with dinner, candles, flowers, a bubble bath, a massage, the whole shebang. His last customer was a couple of hours after I got off work so I hoped I'd have enough time to get everything prepared. I was ready. Ready to take the plunge and tell him I wanted to be his partner, his lover.

I'd finally gotten a job, a real job waiting tables in a French café and I just loved it. It took a lot of hard work to get it and a lot of picking myself up after numerous rejections. My tenacity paid off and I said goodbye to my last customer just over a month before. I was still trying to convince Colin he could do it, too, but his responses were always the same.

"This is the only work I've ever really done," he would say. "Who's going to hire me?"

"Well, who do you think would hire me? My resumé is even worse than yours and I got hired."

"Yeah, but you're Quatre Winner."

"They don't know that."

"Still..."

He was stubborn as a mule, but I thought I was starting to get through to him. He actually filled out a few applications and scheduled a couple of interviews in between meeting with his customers. I constantly encouraged him to keep trying even if he kept getting turned down for a while. I was sure it would happen. It happened for me.

I got home and set my keys down on the little table by the door. He still wasn't home yet so I put the groceries away and ran to the bathroom to shower. I smelled like sweat and cafe food and that wasn't what I was going for on our first real romantic night.

It was hot, much like the desert, but with an insufferable moisture in the air that the desert didn't have. You would sweat, but the air was so damp, the sweat never dried. We didn't have air conditioning so I took a cold, refreshing shower to bring my body temperature down. Finally feeling somewhat cooled, I slipped on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went about cooking dinner and setting the table. I was so excited. I couldn't wait to find out what his reaction would be. He'd been so happy when I finally saw my last customer and he was all over me for three days straight. Despite sleeping together on the regular, we still weren't "official". I was hoping to change that.

I had everything set up perfectly from the tall, tapered ivory candles to the vase of red roses and daisies in the center of the table. We didn't own anything expensive. Most of our furniture and housewares came from thrift and discount stores. Colin just said that gave our stuff character. I liked our eclectic style and we enjoyed shopping for new finds to furnish the apartment with.

I wasn't old enough to buy wine, but I'd grabbed a bottle of sparkling grape juice. It would have to do and I poured it into our little green tumbler glasses as the finishing touch. After putting on some soft music from our little radio in the kitchen, I sat down to wait for him.

An hour went by and he still hadn't come home. After two, I figured he must have ended up with a longer session than he'd planned and I hoped he was getting paid extra.

After three hours, I was starting to get a little worried, but I invented some excuses for reasons he might be delayed to make myself feel better. We didn't have cell phones so I couldn't call him and I didn't know where he was. Four hours went by and my measly attempts to keep the food warm without drying it out were in vain. The sparkling juice was already going flat, but my stomach was full of anxious bubbles. I began to entertain the idea that maybe he just decided not to come back. That maybe he'd found something better. I couldn't think of the alternative. It was too terrible.

After five hours, I fell asleep with my head on the table and woke up in the wee hours of the morning to see that nothing had changed. Only the candles had burned down to stubs and went out. I checked the bedroom, hoping he was sleeping in there, but the bed was still made from the previous morning. I was overcome with a sense of fear and dread, now thinking the worst. We didn't have a TV, but I checked the news stations on the radio, waiting for any story that might indicate something had happened.

And it had. I knew it the moment I heard it that it was him. Male prostitute, around the age of nineteen, found bludgeoned to death in a local motel room. His body was discovered by the night manager after another guest complained of loud noises. I dropped to the floor of the kitchen and pulled my knees up to my chest, too shocked to do anything else. It took me over an hour to realize that they'd said the police needed someone to identify the body.

I owed him that much. He deserved to die with his name, his identity, and not as a John Doe. I took the bus to the morgue, a tiny sliver of hope still lit within me that it wasn't him. That he was just held up somewhere. I even hoped he'd decided to run out on me. It would hurt, but it would have been better than this.

My empty stomach wasn't even able to contain itself when they pulled the sheet back. I doubled over and vomited bile and stomach acid into the waste basket they held out for me as his face, his once beautiful face was revealed. He was nearly unrecognizable, his face so swollen and bruised, the delicate bones shattered from the force of the strikes. But it was him. I recognized that brown hair and the little beauty mark on the side of his neck. I nodded to the medical examiner, confirming who it was, telling them his name through my tears. I had to go to the station after that to answer questions about him, about me, about anything that might lead them to the person who did it. I told them everything I could think of that would help and even things I wasn't sure were relevant, hoping against hope that the killer would be found.

I went home hours later, exhausted, and so fed up with life. That I had been given the chance, after everything I'd been though, to have it taken away. That he'd been given the chance to start over only to have his life stolen by a senseless act of violence. I was so fucking angry and so done with humanity. My faith, that was already hanging on by a thread, gone. It unraveled and snapped, plunging me into a darkness I hadn't felt since I was in that rehab facility.

The desire to use, something I hadn't felt for sometime, came back with a vengeance. The call tempting me with promises that it could make my pain, my grief, my impotent rage go away. I wanted blood. I wanted it so bad I saw red everywhere I looked. I watched the people on the street go about their lives like everything was peachy and I wanted to hit them over and over, the way Colin had been hit. Just to make them stop smiling. To make them see how painful life really was. I wanted everyone to hurt as bad as I did.

I was so terrified that I would cave with the need to use, my feet almost taking me to the door against my will. The impulse was so strong, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control it. All I wanted was the pain to stop and not even the threat of what I'd gone through before seemed to be enough.

I did the only thing I could think of. I packed up what I needed, told my landlord that I was moving out and that he was welcome to everything I left behind, including the furniture, and headed for the bus stop that would take me to the shuttleport. I hopped on the next flight to L2 and looked up my old friend and war comrade. I couldn't help but think I should have just done that from the beginning. Then none of this would have happened. My pride would not allow it before, but now I had no pride left. I had nothing left. My second chance at love was taken from me just like my first chance and I was all out of love to give. I couldn't even pretend anymore. I felt dull, lifeless, and so empty and lost.

It took a lot of asking around. Duo wasn't easy to find and I had to walk several miles to get to him. I waded through the thick meadow of metal parts as I made my way up to the building he was apparently using as a scrapping business. I was so tired, my feet aching from the long walk from the port to Duo's place. I recognized Howard and gave him a small wave as I walked up the busted brick path. I wasn't sure if he recognized me at first, but then his head turned and he shouted at the vicinity behind the building. "Hey! You got company." Howard dropped the rag he'd been using to clean his hands and stepped towards me. "You okay, kiddo?"

I couldn't speak, could only offer a minute shake of my head. The tears I'd been holding back threatening to drown me. Would I be welcome? Or shoved back out into the street once Duo knew all the things I'd done. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and I turned, dizzy with emotions I couldn't name as Duo came into view. He stopped short, eyes wide in shock. He looked good. Healthy. Filling out his jeans and t-shirt in a way that indicated he'd been doing a lot of heavy lifting. That long braid was still hanging down his back. I said nothing, only stared, blinking rapidly, as his mouth worked to form words.

"Quat? Quat is that you? Oh, God!" He rushed forward and my legs threatened to give out, wobbling unsteadily. "Where the hell have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you! Are - are you okay?"

The concern in his eyes and in his voice did me in and I collapsed onto the path, the jagged edges of the bricks digging into my skin. I dropped my head in my hands, feeling so ashamed. He'd been worried. Someone was worried. And was looking for me. Someone still cared. It was something I hadn't anticipated.

Strong arms closed around me and I buried my face in my friend's chest, inhaling the scents of sweat and motor oil, mixed with a musky cologne. It smelled like Duo and my memories sung at the familiarity. Just hearing his voice again was such a relief. I couldn't talk, I just cried. Cried for the first time in almost two years. Two years of agony and pain and loneliness. I let it all out and Duo held me through it. I couldn't believe how much I'd missed him.

Through the chaos in my head, I could hear Howard asking him questions that I knew he couldn't answer. What happened to him? Is he alright? I felt Duo's face press against my head as he whispered the same questions to me.

"The hell happened to you, Quat? What the fuck happened to you?"

"Hell," I croaked. "It was Hell. That's where I've been." I wiped my face on my sleeve, coughing around a dry throat. "Can I have some water?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. C'mon, let's get you inside."

He helped me up, mumbling, "God, Quat! You're so thin. Haven't you been eating?" I had actually and I told him as much. He held on to me as we walked into the building, like he was afraid I would fall again. I probably would have. Howard followed us in and went to fetch me a glass of water. I thanked him and guzzled it down, parched like I hadn't been since I'd trekked through the desert during the war. It was cool and delicious and I pressed the glass, coated with cool condensation against my sweaty forehead. Howard was nice enough to give us some time alone and I appreciated that. He was a good guy. I didn't know him that well, but he'd been a good friend to Duo and anyone who was a friend of Duo's was a friend of mine. Duo watched me with concerned eyes and I suddenly felt like the shittiest friend in the world.

"I'm so sorry for dropping in on you like this, Duo."

"Don't you dare apologize. I've been worried sick about you. You disappeared shortly after the Eve Wars. Not even Heero could find you. Trowa's been in a right state, calling me constantly. "Have you heard anything about Quat?" he keeps asking me. I thought -"

I ignored the information that Trowa had been allegedly beside himself with worry. I wasn't in any state of mind to psychoanalyze that considering he'd cut all ties from me before I was admitted to that clinic. "You thought I was dead."

He looked guilty and I nearly laughed. If the situation hadn't been so serious, I would have. "I was dead."

He took my hand and gazed into my eyes. "Tell me what happened. Tell me everything."

"Oh, where do I start? I suppose I should start by telling you I'm a recovering addict." I forced out a humorless laugh to buffer the news, not sure how he would take it.

He was shocked, as I expected. I just prayed he wouldn't boot me out the door with a "Nice knowin' ya". I stared down at the floor as I revealed my deepest, darkest secrets, unable to look him in the eye.

"When I got stabbed, they - well, they forced those painkillers on me. I was on them long enough to end up dependent on them. I was hooked all through the Eve Wars."

"Quat! Why didn't you say something?"

"How could I? I'd just realized I had a problem and it was the only way I could function without getting so sick. I was too ashamed. I didn't know how to say it. It wasn't until after the wars that I finally went to Rashid. He dropped me off at a rehab center in New Orleans and went back to Jordan."

"What? He just left?"

"Yeah. He was the one who made the doctors give me the pain meds and then he just dropped me off at the clinic and took off without a word."

"What about your family?"

"Are you kidding? They cut me off when I was fifteen. First because I joined the war. My sexual orientation and my addiction, they'd never accept that. That's even worse than going to war."

"Oh, Quat -"

"That facility - the clinic. They raped their patients, Duo. They raped me." I listened to Duo's hitch of breath, his muttered curse. "I was strapped down so I wouldn't hurt myself when I had a seizure. I was so ill, so weak. The men...the animals - they came into my room and raped me, night after night. There's was nothing I could do about it." I blinked back tears and forced myself to continue. "I got clean, though, and I was released a month later, but I didn't have anyone, no money, or place to live -"

"You have me, Quat! Goddamnit! Why didn't you come to me?" He was angry now. I didn't blame him. I was angry with myself. So full of self-loathing I couldn't even look at myself without feeling sick.

"I could have. I could have, but I didn't. I was - humiliated. And I didn't want to be a burden. I've been one my whole life -"

"Now, you listen to me. You are not a burden. You have never been a burden. You understand?"

"I hear you, but I'm not sure I agree. Anyway, I - needed to eat. I was so hungry, but no one would hire me. I - became a whore -" I flinched as Duo punched the wall next to my head.

"You fucking fool! How can you be so stupid?"

The tears spilled over, unbidden. "I'm sorry." I would have totally understood if he never wanted to see me again. "I - won't bother you. I'm sorry I came here and dumped this on you." I got up to leave, but he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. I felt disgusting, deplorable as he wept over me and I couldn't stop apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Duo. But I had to make my own way. No one else could do it for me -"

He choked on a sob, squeezing me until my ribs ached. "I wish you had come to me. You stupid fucking idiot. Why did you put yourself through that?"

"I had to survive. Just like all of you did."

"You've already proven yourself a survivor, long before this happened."

I stroked his hair, comforting him as he'd comforted me. "I did get out of it." I smiled as he sniffled and pulled his head back, giving me a wide-eyed stare. I nodded. "I did. I met a real sweet guy. He was a whore like me -"

"Don't call yourself that!"

I shrugged, not bothered by it. "It's what I was. I'm not ashamed of it. I did what I had to do. But...I saved my money and this boy and I, we got an apartment together and I even got myself a real job waiting tables."

He looked relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!"

"I came here because...the guy I was with, Colin, was murdered -"

"Oh, Quat. Baby, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." I had to force the words out around my tears. "I came because I found myself alone again and I couldn't do it anymore. I was so afraid I would start using again and I can't go back there, Duo. I just can't!"

"Come here." He took me into his arms and I cried against his chest. "You did the right thing for once. I'm glad you're here. Hey," he pulled my head up to look at me. "I'm here for you. I'm always here for you, no matter what. There's nothing you can do that would make me walk away, or send you away. You understand?"

I was overcome by the warmth in my chest and I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I understand. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner and I'm sorry for worrying you."

He hugged me again and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling safe and loved for the first time in a long time. "I'm just glad you're okay." He hesitated. "I mean - are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. Now, I am." And I was. I was okay. I would get through this and I would be okay. I smiled at him, glad to see he was apparently doing well. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, you little fool." He gave me a playful tap upside the back of my head and I laughed, relieved and happy to be here. "I don't want you ever doing that again, you understand? You have a problem, I don't care what it is. You come to me. Got it?"

God, it felt good to have a friend in this cold, cruel world. "Yeah. I promise."

"I had to watch that shit when I was a kid." Duo looked away, eyes distant, troubled. "I won't let anyone I care about put themselves through that."

A thought occurred to me, too disturbing to even consider, and my heart plummeted in my chest. "Oh, Duo! Did you -"

"No. No, not me. Solo. He did it for me, determined that I would never have to be put through that. He'd come home bloody, covered in bruises and cuts, and I would rail at him about not letting me take on some of the burden."

I nodded, my stomach churning sourly. I understood that. I was suddenly so aware of what Colin had been saying. To have to see someone you loved subject themselves to that degredation.

Duo shook his head, lost in his own memories. "I would patch him up as best I could and he would listen to me curse at him all night. He just smiled at me, his mouth all bloody and split, and he would say, 'I can rest easy, no matter what they do to me, knowing I'm keeping you safe.'" Tears crested over his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He whispered, but not to me. To someone who'd been long dead.

"You stupid bastard. You should have let me - should have -" He broke down then and it was my turn to comfort. I took him into my arms and held him as he cursed through clenched teeth. I felt terrible about drudging up painful memories for him.

"I'm so sorry, Duo. I didn't mean to -"

"No, it's okay." I must not have looked convinced because he said, "Really. It's okay. It just hurts to think of it sometimes." He wiped his face and ran his fingers through his bangs. "I wish you could have known him. He would have adored you."

I smiled. "I wish I could have to. He did the right thing in my book. I'm glad you didn't have to do that."

"I'm glad you're here." He ruffled my hair. "You can stay as long as you need to. I can use an extra pair of hands around here. I'll pay you."

"You don't have to do that. I'll look for a job and I'll work for you for room and board until I can get back on my feet again."

He chuckled. "Good luck with that. If you thought jobs were scarce on Earth, they're even more so here."

"Still. I have to try. Once I do, I'll pay you rent until I can get my own place."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Mi casa es su casa."

"Thanks, Duo. For everything."

"Hey, what are friends for? You want a drink? Or...maybe you can't because -" He trailed off, blushing, and I smiled, knowing what he was worried about.

"I would love one. My addiction was to pain killers. Not alcohol."

"Cool. All I have is cheap, skunky beer, though."

"It sounds Heavenly. I'd love some cheap, skunky beer." Cheap, skunky beer and the company of good friends. It was just what the doctor ordered.

~ * ~

Chapter 5

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