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"The Rovers"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, Romance, Adventure Pairings: ? Summary: The characters from Gundam Wing find love amid the perils of war, oh… and they save the world while they're at it. The story is set in an alternative universe on earth. Part One is told from Heero's point of view. We meet the roving people with a hidden agenda, and the men hunting them. In Part Two, things go wild and…well, let's just get through these first four chapters of Part One and see how it goes. Thanks to Waterlily for reading and offering her
advice not just once but twice—and when you get through part
two you see just how long a story this is and just how much I owe
her! Hope the exchange rate is in my favor… "The Rovers " Part Two Chapter 9 - Teamwork (o) Heero's pov Duo and Heero had new orders, dangerous ones requiring careful planning. Heero read the note twice before he grasped it all. A shiver ran across his shoulders; he could feel intense, blue eyes tracking the movement, measuring his stance. "So, we are to make it look like we've been spying on the road there a long time?" Heero asked. "Yeah, and intercepting messages, so we need to fake some posts and burn'em partially in the fireplace," Duo explained. "Maybe leave some of our own surmises based on what we learned?" "Learned from made up communications our enemy has passed?" Heero said. "Yeah, to look like we'd been doing it for a while." Heero shook his head unsure if there was a point to it all. "Why?" "Professor G doesn't say, but if I had to guess, I'd say one of them's made a machine that unscrambles Khushrenada's code messages and he doesn't want the enemy to know it." "Khushrenada would change the code if he thought it was compromised," Heero figured. "That's right," Duo said. "And then the doctors would have to start over. So, if Khushrenada's couriers discover a hangout where messages seem to be collecting, maybe hear about a couple attacks on other runners-?" "-rumors we would start," Heero supplied. "Sure! Well, then they have a plausible explanation for... something getting known." "Something big. The doctor's must have come upon some very important information," Heero concluded. "Very important, yeah, to try a cover-up scam like this." Duo reached over to put out the lantern. "We gotta lot of territory to cover fast." (o) A shape, on one knee, tight to the wall of a building across the boulevard and very still. It stood, ran a few feet, and stopped again. It held, Heero thought, something in its hand. He touched the bolt of the buster rifle, making sure it was locked before he let his finger rest gently against the trigger. When he squinted over the open sight, he lost the shape until it moved again. Then he tracked it as it stood, ran, and knelt down. Stood, ran, knelt down. Stood, ran. Tracked, squeezed. Glow of eldritch light. The man cried out and rolled off the wall. "All right, go!" he whispered to himself. Heero raised his free hand, making a clipped motion, and watched Duo nod back. Duo scrambled over the roof to the edge, slipping, catching the edge, dangling, braid swinging to and fro, and then dropping to the window ledge. He gave Heero a "thumbs up" gesture before disappearing within the building. While Duo set up the scene of a well-used spy hangout, leaving carefully scripted documents, burning others, Heero dragged the body of the man he'd fired upon far into a garbage pile. The buster rifle was an exceptionally powerful beam rifle and left a wound that didn't look like a bullet hole; it would trigger questions, so Heero replaced it with a stab wound. He dug around and found a nearly empty bottle of wine, upended it on the man and placed it near his hand. Good enough. He ran back to watch over Duo, help him clear the building, and sneak away from the edge of the town. Mission accomplished. They rode fast back into the forest. It was always a relief to find their wagon and sturdy steeds that pulled it still in place where they had left them. There were a few hours remaining of the night until the sunrise shattered the sky, proclaiming a new day, so they climbed inside the wagon and curled up together to try to get some rest. "You know-" Heero began. "- Aw, 'Ro..." Duo whined. "You know I want to stay just like this a sleep with you-" "- But you aren't, are you?" "We should move away from the scene of our crime." Duo had no argument for that. "Get me in the drivers' seat and I'm good." So before the sun rose, they were on the road putting distance between them and what Duo called the "staged spy warren." Both Heero and Duo were jumpy. They'd killed a man and left him to be discovered by the townsfolk knowing enemy troops could be coming through any day now. At one point, Duo slowed the wagon and titled his head to one side staring intently into the distance. "What is it?" Heero hadn't heard anything suspicious. "Thought I saw something." Heero scanned the skyline. In the forest somewhere above him on the gentle slope, a horse whickered, then stopped, abruptly, as though someone had put a hand over its muzzle. "Heard it," Heero confirmed. "We're being followed," Duo whispered. "Once we cross the border we're relatively safe." "How far?" Heero asked. "Next turn," Duo said. "Just warning ya. Hold on for a wild ride if we get stopped." The dark darkened from gloom to doom. Thunder rolled across the mountains. A flash of lightening shattered what was left of their calm. Heero could see the border guard booth up ahead. One cart in front of them peeling off onto a side road, maybe heading home before the storm hit. Tiny balls of ice pelted down, bouncing off the wagon, the pony's backs, the ground. A big man in a uniform of unknown color and a hat pulled low against the weather, stood in their path. Duo eased them to a full stop. "So then, just exactly what kind of business has you crossing the border in a hailstorm?" the guard asked. "We gotta license to move what the hell we want," Duo snapped, irritated by the man's attitude and the weather and the delay caused by both, was Heero's presumption. The guard took the paperwork and gave it a cursory look before handing it back. "Perhaps we'll have a look in the wagon, if you please." "Not this wagon. Not today." Duo swore under his breath and tried to pass, the wheels spun, the wagon began to fishtail, Duo yanked on the reins, Heero saw the white, furious face of the border patrolman as they skidded past the barricade. Mud sprayed, the wagon spun in a circle, then plowed into a field, wheels bouncing on ruts beneath the snow. They came to rest a few feet from a large plane tree, its trunk scarred by the indiscretions of past drivers. "Well, we made it," Duo said. "We did?" "Patrol can't do anything about us now that we are on this side of the border." "Hn," Heero said. "Well done, then." Duo hopped out to look at the banged up wagon. "Coulda done better." Heero hoped for good news and asked, "Trouble?" "Nothing you need to see. An expensive fix, but thankfully we aren't far from a town with a blacksmith," Duo said. He blinked as the hail bounced off his hat. Heero grunted, "Hn," and leaped to the ground to check anyway. "Actually," Duo said, "This is a blessing in disguise." "Good disguise," Heero grumbled. "Yeah, see, we'll keep the broken wheel and get a new one. That way we can fake a breakdown anytime enemy troops are on the road and we need to pull off." Heero shook his head. "I don't understand that, but its fine. If you can find blessings in disasters, then far be it from me to argue." "On the bright side," Duo went on far more cheerily than he had any right to from Heero's perspective, "We made into the no-man's land of the disputed territory currently not in any kingdom." Heero knew what that meant. The law came down to who was the toughest, and with the enhanced-power weapons he and Duo had, Heero had no doubt that they were superior to anyone they would meet on the road. "There's that." Heero sighed, tying together a makeshift repair to the wagon. "Where do we hide this?" Duo seemed to have an idea. "Real close. And I mean it." "You'd better. This won't hold for more than a couple yards." It wouldn't even with Heero showing off his matchless strength and practically lifting half the weight and walking with the load in his arms. "Good enough." (o) Quatre's pov He loved the evening light. Quatre leaned out his small window, catching the last rays of thin sun and reflections off the snow-covered ledge, watching for any signs of Trowa or his Archer comrades. He had this feeling Trowa was near. A sense of awareness from the other man. It was either a sixth sense, his weird heart-sense acting up, his "gift" as Rashid charitably called it, or simply all Rashid's talk about Trowa had triggered Quatre's imagination. There is was again! It was a shadow that caught his attention, a movement, a flickering form he couldn't quite make out. He spotted it here on a wall then there by a window shuttered close for the night. It wasn't a man because he could see through it, but if it wasn't the actual person, then... Quatre looked up. It had to be a man in the air casting a shadow like that. That is when he saw a faint line against the dark of a roof. When he tried following it, it disappeared against the while-walled buildings and snow, but knowing where he'd last seen a shadow and the sun angle, he triangulated over and up. There! A willowy figure looked to be walking on air between buildings! Quatre remembered Duo telling him about Trowa's years as a circus entertainer. Could he have been an acrobat? That very well could be him! If so, then where was he going, Quatre wondered? He was heading closer, was his best guess as he searched for any signs of the line, and then saw a length passing between a tall building and one nearby where Quatre lived with the doctors. The line-walker was coming toward him! Positive that it was Trowa, Quatre made up his made to have a talk with him, no matter what. He grabbed a knit hat to cover his hair and pulled it low over his forehead. Dragged on boots, a muffler, and his warm coat, and when he looked at his reflection in the hall mirror, he looked like a local, not a prince. He went outside and took a position well hidden in an archway and waited. "That's far enough," Quatre said, surprising the man the moment he stepped off the line to a wall and safety. Trowa froze in place, his face pale, and visible eye round and bright green. "Quatre?" he said, in a gasp. "Quatre! I can't believe it's you!" "Why? Because I've been abandoned by you, here, for weeks, while you-" "Shh!" Trowa pushed him back under an overhanging balcony, deep into the gloom. "Don't you dare push me around-!" "You are in terrible danger." More than the actual words, it was the tone Trowa used that gripped Quatre's attention. "This way." But Quatre shook his head and gripped Trowa by the hand. "My room," he whispered, and led the way back the way he'd come. They climbed over the roof and down to a balcony then stepped over the sill through the open window. Trowa turned and shuttered it immediately. "There." Quatre crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. "And don't tell me you were looking for me just now, because it was I who found you, while you've had weeks to visit me." "I know. I know. I don't expect you to believe me, but I've tried to keep your whereabouts a secret. Eyes have followed me in search of you." "Me? Really? How important can I be?" "Vastly." Quatre felt the other man's tension through the hand touching his arm, and sensed fear in the searching eyes, studying him for signs of compassion, possibly, but Quatre wasn't ready to offer any forgiveness yet. "I don't know; Rashid said you'd been in town, but never stopped by." "I came as often as I dared. The doctors forbade me to see you. I think partly that they were afraid I'd carry you off and spoil whatever purpose they had in you themselves." "Oh, did you?" Quatre said lightly. "I was working on deciphering machines with Instructor H, in fact." Quatre thought it was a weak and stupid excuse for Trowa to use. When had the Archer become so keen on following orders or been unable to sneak into an unsecured room? He wanted to shout at him and make him tell the truth, but he suspected there was more to it. Why Trowa didn't want to share his reasons, he didn't know. For now he decided to let it pass, let Trowa have his "out". Whatever it was that had happened, it had left a dark spot on Trowa's heart and a terrible feeling of emptiness Quatre didn't want to explore now. Later though. "So smart..." Trowa murmured and smoothed a hand up and down Quatre's arm. Only that, though. It was as if Trowa were afraid to exceed some new and artificially set limitations on touching, afraid to offend, afraid his touch was no longer permissible. "God, I missed you," Trowa said. That, Quatre knew to be absolutely true. He flew into Trowa's outstretched arms, arms that clasp onto him and crushed him to Trowa's chest. "I missed you, too," Quatre said in a choked sob. "I was so worried about you." "I know. I know... me, too." Quatre felt his knit hat fall free and Trowa bury his face in his hair. "Why?" Quatre croaked. Trowa just shook his head, unable to talk just yet. Both young men needed the contact, the physical reassurance, to communicate where words just failed. Quatre pulled Trowa's mouth to his and parted his lips. Trowa squeezed his body around the smaller man, enveloping him, and drove his tongue inside, seeking warmth, counting teeth-anything he could caress, he did. Quatre felt the universe contract into the two of them. Suddenly, everything mattered. A tiny wince meant Trowa had a new injury to his shoulder, his shooting arm. A quiver came after a ticklish stroke up his side. As much as he wanted answers before he forgot the questions, this closeness felt essential to his being. Which was why he felt disappointed when Trowa eased them apart. "Hey, just a minute. I want you too, but I have to tell you some things and if you still... want me... then... well, okay." Quatre kicked the pile of coats and boots and hats and scarves that they'd shed. "Can we lie down on the bed to talk?" he asked. "Yeah, we can do that." Once he was nestled in Trowa's arms, Quatre started to clear the air. "In case I didn't make my feelings clear to you earlier, I'm still a little bit mad at you for abandoning me to strangers and avoiding me for weeks." "I know." Trowa raked the hair from his face and sighed. "After I got you, Rashid, and the doctors out of that building, I had to lead away the attackers, who were OZ, by the way." "You acted the decoy," Quatre said. "Yeah." "I remember seeing you, but it's all fuzzy," Quatre said. "I was concussed." Trowa squeezed him tighter. "Your eyes looked wrong. I wanted to take you away, get you safe. You have no idea how much I wanted to-" "-You did what you had to," Quatre interrupted. "You took that on. You could have been killed, but I know I couldn't have fought against anyone the way I was. You saved us all." "Thanks," Trowa whispered. "You know Rashid is one hell of a fighter, too." "I know he is." They sat in silence a few moments. The fire sputtered, sending sparks flying, and a log settled into the embers. "I had to stay away and not lead the enemy back to where you'd gone into hiding." "You were being watched? So why-?" "I was getting to that, why you're so important. I got news. It's not good." "Trowa!" Quatre felt something like a shock wave penetrate his chest and sat up. He turned and held Trowa's face between his hands. "What is it? Tell me!" "Your father, the sheikh, is missing. Some say he's gone into hiding. Others say..." he hesitated to finish that. "Others say what? That he was murdered?! Oh, Trowa! Can it be true?" "I don't know, but it's possible." "Possible, but I haven't felt that kind of warning." He touched his chest over his heart. "What else. Tell me every detail you can remember." "Khushrenada send an army into L4, a hostile move it would seem, but he claimed that L4 is a part of Sanc now that," Trowa paused to engage Quatre's complete attention, "Princess Relena is married to Prince Quatre." "What!" Quatre cried out. "But that didn't happen! I'm not even there. Can't she tell them?!" "Apparently," Trowa said, "your absence is explained away because you and the Maguanacs are attending your father in the land of the dead far to the south. That mean anything to you?" "The Land of the Dead... Oh! It is where we bury our people. There are tombs carved out of solid rock for the sheikhs." Quatre's eyes welled with tears. He wiped a sleeve across them and sniffed back the rest. "There are also hundreds of miles of caverns." He met Trowa's watchful stare with a brave one of his own. "Those are to hide in. The Maguanacs preserve and maintain them to move the people of L4 and hide them and protect them from invaders." "Then your father could be safe," Trowa concluded. "He could be; I sincerely hope he is, but Relena, poor girl. What's to become of her if I'm not there to prove we are married?" "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. Khushrenada can manufacture all the proof he needs. My concern is for you. They do not know where the hell you are and will be hunting day and night from one corner of the kingdom to the next until they find you." Quatre shook his head trying to avoid that thought. "No, no, no." "Yes, Quatre. I am telling you this because I didn't come here alone. I tracked five Maguanacs to this location. Now, they might only have contact with your man, Rashid, and not know you're close by, but I doubt it." "Here?" "In this city, yes. I'm thinking that they hope to locate you before their enemies do; I hope with the best intentions." Trowa cupped Quatre's chin in a hand and looked deep into his eyes. "Quatre, this is very serious and I want you to consider my next question carefully, okay?" Quatre nodded but said nothing. His jaw threatened to tremble, his voice failed, he was so upset. "How much do you trust Rashid?" Trowa asked. "Funny," he said, his voice coming out hoarsely, "he asked me the same about you." Quatre closed his eyes. "I trust you both with my life." He placed a hand over his heart. "I know I can. I feel it in here." "Oh, Quatre." Trowa kissed him fervently, enclosing him in one arm, hugging him close. Quatre felt all the love in the universe well up inside him, filling him with an overpowering joy. When their lips parted for air, Quatre took the opportunity to remove a knife from Trowa's calf sheath. "You won't need that," he whispered into Trowa's ear just before sucking in the man's earlobe. Trowa hissed and squirmed on the bed. "God... Quatre..." Quatre felt firm hands push him away, very gently, with regrets. Quatre reached for him and scolded him, "No, don't. Stop rejecting me. I know what I'm doing, what I want. And I want you. I really need you now." Trowa scrubbed at his face. "Quatre you know your people expect more from you than... what I can offer. I kept hearing this voice in telling me 'it's not right, it's not right, it's not-" Quatre clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled Trowa's head down with his other hand. "It is what we make of it, you and I. It is good if we make it good, and we will, Trowa. You and I are meant to be. I feel it in here." He shoved Trowa's tunic up, and bent over his bared chest. He noticed Trowa hadn't had access to bathing facilities for some time, smelling of the road, sweat, and manliness. How exciting! He placed his lips over Trowa's heart. He could feel the rapid beating. With tongue and teeth he marked his man. "You are a good person, the right one for me. I feel it in here," Quatre repeated, and kissed him again. After that, Trowa gave up arguing. Quatre had worn down his defenses. The blond undressed himself under the other man's dedicated gaze, and then stripped the Archer, kissing the newly exposed skin as he went. Trowa froze when he lifted one of his legs and placed in on his shoulder. "Wha-at are you doing?" Trowa sputtered. "You want to... top?" "Do you mind?" Quatre asked seconds before taking the other man's cock into his mouth. "God no... don't mind...just... surprised... oh! No, don't stop!" Quatre pulled back momentarily. "I'll get back to business, I promise, but I wanted you to see this. Duo gave me this jar. Remember? It made you feel all slick inside me. I think you'll like it too." "Don't care...nuh!" Quatre kept his lover's mind off what his fingers were doing just as Trowa had done to him before. Licking, sucking, even rubbing the length along his cheek, which was just a little rough. He'd paid attention and had time to think about what he wanted to do in return. "Like..." Oh, yes, Trowa liked everything. Swallowing, he couldn't manage, but he was sure Trowa wouldn't care if he spit out his seed. Quatre had no illusions of lasting longer than a few strokes once he felt the hot tunnel, squeeze him. "I'm sorry. This won't be good for you." "Push hard," Trowa urged him. "Find the spo-ot ...ah!" A smile spread over Quatre's face. "Quit giving the orders and let me do this for you. Just relax-" "Relax?! God!" Correct as usual-although, in this case he wished his assessment of his self-control was wrong-his moment of ecstasy rolled over him all too soon. He rubbed Trowa's stretched legs, massaging the cramps out. "I'm sorry I didn't-" "Shhh... you did good. So good," Trowa said, sighing as his leg returned to the mattress. Quatre leaned over and grabbed at the stack of clean linens he'd placed neatly by his pillow and cleaned them up. "It was just that it's been so long. I'll make it better, even better next time." His lover looked up at him, eyes glazing over, and then closed. "Love you," he whispered. Quatre flopped on his side and scooted close to snuggle an exposed ear. "Repeat that, please, liebchen." "Are you learning the local language?" Trowa asked, smiling. "Whose ass do I have to kick for calling you that?" "Nobodycalls me that, silly. I overheard two lovebirds. Now, you are evading my request." Trowa turned and rose up on one elbow so now he looked down into Quatre's face. "I love you." Quatre closed his eyes and smiled beatifically until he felt Trowa nudge his arm. "Hey." Trowa was still staring, waiting. "You want me to say something?" Quatre asked. "Yes, it would be nice to..." he hesitated a second to come up with the perfect word, "... alleviate my fear of rejection." Quatre burst into laughter. He couldn't stop, tears flowed. Trowa joined in, not so feverishly, but he went beyond a few chuckles. "You... you... yyyyuuu," Quatre tried, but started hiccupping instead. "Hold your breath, count to ten...in your head," Trowa instructed him. "You are so full of shit," Quatre said, still grinning and wiping at his eyes. "F-ffear of rejection. That's rich, after all my chasing and practically begging-What's the matter now?" "Never heard you say 'shit' before." Trowa gave him a quirky smile. "Still waiting." His introductory sigh was huge, and then he said, "I, Quatre Raberba Winner, do love and adore you, the man I've taken to be my one and only, Trowa-no middle name? Very good- Barton. There. Will that do?" "For now, babe," Trowa said. Quatre received the kiss he had been waiting for and they held one another for a long time. "Trowa?" "Yeah?" He sounded sleepy, basking in his afterglow. "We leave here tomorrow, you and me. I already told Rashid that he's to find the Maguanacs and protect father and L4." "Rashid won't let you go with me." "He will. It's all agreed upon already. The doctors are arming the Maguanacs." "Smart you. I get it. But... still won't work." Trowa sounded sure. "It will, because no one watches the women carrying out laundry, and we will have loads to carry," Quatre told him. "I've been watching and planning this. We'll be disguised as washer-women." "You bought us dresses?" Trowa asked, slightly horrified. "Oh, no. I didn't have to do that. I gave Rashid money to buy cheap, gaudy jewelry-he wouldn't buy women's clothes, although I can't understand why- and I traded that for the clothes." Trowa laughed. "No wonder you want to leave here so fast. Think about it. A guy living alone, no girlfriends, wearing dresses? What a reputation you've made while I've been gone." "Then learn your lesson," Quatre told him with a light rap on his nose, "and don't leave me again. You never know what you might find when you get back." "I won't leave you." Trowa tightened his embrace and held on until they fell asleep. (o) Quatre kept watch as Trowa stowed the dresses under a rock spill. "They made such perfect disguises," he mused, "It's a shame to have to throw these away." "I though mine was a little tight," Trowa griped. "Hmm, I thought so too. Like I said, perfect." Quatre laughed at Trowa's put out expression then climbed back onto his horse. He wondered how Rashid was doing, where he was, and decided the man had probably met up with the other Maguanacs and left L3 hours ago. Rashid hadn't been surprised hear Quatre's plan or that his role in it was to return to L4 and protect the king. Since he was also aware of his fellow Maguanacs in L3, he put up no argument against collecting the men and leaving. Rashid had doubted that Trowa would return or be convinced to go along with the plan. Even if Quatre managed to perform that magic act, Rashid had said, letting Trowa be Quatre's sole guard was impossible. Rashid had his duty to the prince. That had been a difficult hurdle to get over, but learning that they would encounter Archers and Rovers who would be helping them made a big difference. Getting an armload of the enhanced buster rifles sealed the deal. While Trowa and Quatre had been putting on their costumes, they all said their goodbyes and promised to meet again soon with well wishes. Rashid had left them shortly after dawn. The horses stood between L3 to the north and the Kings Way to the south. Quatre wiped the dirt off his hands. "All the evidence hidden?" "Done," Trowa announced before he swung up onto his horse. "Wash-women buried forever." "Let's go. Lead the way south. To warmth!" "Warmth and trouble," Trowa murmured. "Next stop, Fern, a border town." "And goodbye L3." On the road recently patched with crushed stone, women walked, holding straw baskets, their heads covered with black kerchiefs. The horses climbed through snow-patched meadows, came to a village, the name of which they never learned, with domed churches painted lime green. In the late afternoon haze, Quatre could see the Smoky Mountains disappearing into the far horizon. An hour later they reached Fern. Fern was a located in a tiny, colonial nibble taken away from the old kingdom pre-Lombardia, and ever since a lost land in the northwest corner of the continent. L5, or what was left of it, was centrally located; L3 rested in the far northeast corner in the Smoky Hills; L2 was a mountain range east and south of that, and L4 a mountain pass or two west, closest to the Sanc capital. What mattered this day was that there was a Rover-approved place to stay. The inn turned out to be a yellow brick building with a sign that said hotel. "You want to get us a room?" Trowa asked. "I'll make contact and get our running orders." "Shall I wait dinner?" Quatre asked. Trowa's cool exterior belied the turmoil within him, and he could feel it. The road had so many places for an ambush. "No. I'll be late." Trowa reached out and threaded his fingers through the blond hair fringing his face. Quatre let him pull them together. When warm lips pressed his, Quatre sighed and his mouth opened, letting the kiss deepen. When Trowa pulled away, Quatre saw the regret in his eyes. "I can do this alone," Quatre said. "Please. Let me do this. I have money for a room and dinner. Be careful, please?" "It's not far. I'll be fine," Trowa said, but Quatre could tell his heart wasn't in it. He would be meeting up with other Rovers, but they had agreed that the fewer who knew he was travelling with Quatre, the better. "Absolutely!" Quatre smiled. "I hate to leave you alone," Trowa revealed. "If you don't think I can stay alone in a hotel already Rovers-approved, then it doesn't say much for your faith in my abilities." Trowa kissed the top on his head and climbed back upon his horse. "You win. Stay indoors. Wear the hat." "I promise," Quatre whispered to the retreating back. A few minutes later, Quatre lay on the bed and stared out the cloudy window. The finest room was bent at a strange angle; a low ceiling of wooden boards, whitewashed long ago, went in one direction, then another. When he stood up, it was only a few inches above his head; Trowa, he knew, would have to bend to fit. In the street, the steady sound of horses' hooves on cobblestone-none the ones he was waiting for, even though it was far too soon to be expecting any of his friends. At dinner, the proprietor and his wife served him jellied calf's foot, buckwheat groats with mushrooms, white cheese with scallions, and thin pancakes with red-current jam. A bottle of cherry brandy stood on the plank table. A month ago he wouldn't have recognized this as a meal, but now he dived in with joy. When he had nothing left unless he licked his plate, the proprietor scurried over and nervously rubbed his hands. "Very good," Quatre said, pretending to wipe his mouth with the napkin-it had certainly been a napkin, once-and pushed his chair away from the table. He'd meant the compliment, however, and paid for the dinner and returned to his room with a roll stuffed with onions and cheese for Trowa. Lying there in the darkness, he could sense the countryside. There was a stable attached to the hotel, and sometimes the horses whickered and moved around in their stalls. The aroma, manure and rotted straw, drifted up to his room. Still cold, at the end of April. He wrapped himself up in the thin blanket and tried to sleep. Out on the street, somebody got drunk in a tavern. Singing at first, then the argument, then the fight. Then the law keepers, then the woman, crying and pleading, as her man was taken away. He awoke in the dark, early morning, he guessed, and felt Trowa deeply asleep beside him. One touch assured him the vision was real. He turned and spooned the warm form of his lover and returned to sleep. TBC...
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