"Wish Upon a Star "

Written By: Waterliliylf

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. All rights remain with Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. No profit being made here.

Rating: R

Warnings: sap, angst, fluff, AU

Pairings: 3x4

Summary: When you wish upon a star, it makes no difference who you are, unless you're the heir to the Winner business empire. So when you do find a means of escape, how long can you hold on to the fantasy, and the man of your dreams, before reality takes over?

"Wish Upon a Star "

Dreams and Fantasies:

There had been a few moments before he'd woken up properly when he thought it was all a bizarre dream.

Of course, none of those things had actually happened.

He'd never met Trowa; the man had been a figment of his imagination. A perfect figment; well, except for the parts where he'd been every bit as bossy as Iria, or all the other people who saw their missions in life to organising Quatre Raberba Winner's.

Then he'd opened his eyes to find he was in a strange bed, with a total stranger grinning at him.

Oh, god. It had all been real.

All of it. Of course it had been. He'd obviously slept at some point. He'd been up twice to the bathroom, throwing up as he thought about what had almost happened. The second time, Trowa had been there, sponging his face and finding him a toothbrush to rinse the taste of vomit out of his mouth.

His last memory, before he'd somehow fallen asleep, was of Trowa sitting in an armchair by the bed, and talking to him.

The other man had given him an apology and vanished, shouting for Trowa. It had been mortifying. He'd wanted nothing, nothing, so much as just to sneak off and take his chances on the streets.

He just couldn't do it, though. Not after Trowa had been so nice to him. He couldn't just walk out.

There was also the small matter of what to wear. He could probably get away with wearing the t-shirt and sweat pants Trowa had lent him to sleep in, but he'd caused the man enough trouble without stealing his clothes. And he certainly couldn't wear that clubbing outfit in broad daylight.

He couldn't imagine, now, what had possessed him to wear it at night. What on Earth had he been thinking?

Quatre forced himself to take a deep breath. And another. OK. He could do this. It wasn't even seven o'clock yet; the interview wasn't until ten. He could call Rashid, arrange for his chief bodyguard to collect him and whisk him back to the hotel. Rashid would lecture him all the way, but he almost certainly wouldn't tell Iria.

He could leave straightaway. That was the plan.

He'd followed the voices and found Trowa and the long-haired stranger sitting on a small roof terrace and Trowa had somehow persuaded him to sit down and agree to stay for breakfast.

That couldn't take long, surely. He still had a good three hours in hand. He could allow himself just a little more time in Trowa's company. It would have been so much better if Duo had taken himself off. He seemed friendly enough, but he kept darting odd little glances at Quatre, trying to figure him out.

In the end, he asked Trowa if he could borrow his telephone and hid back in the bedroom. It was so unfair. All he wanted was to be able to talk to Trowa for a little while, and he couldn't with Duo around. There was no point staying at this rate.

He might as well just call Rashid and go back to the real world.

'Rashid, it's Quatre.'

'Master Quatre!' Quatre winced at the bellow that came down the 'phone and held it a few inches away from his ear. 'Where are you? Miss Iria is out of her mind worrying about you. We all are. We've been searching for you all night and…'

'Iria knows?' Quatre asked faintly. 'How?'

Rashid sighed. 'She tried calling you late last night. When you didn't answer your telephone, she became concerned, and we checked your room. She's been out of her mind with worry; we all have. I tried calling Master Heero last night to see if he knew anything and..'

'What? You called Heero?'

Damn, damn, damn. Heero would murder him for being so stupid.

'Rashid, please tell my sister I'm fine, but I do need a ride home. Can you collect me? I'm on Victoria Street. You should be able to trace this number; it's a land line.'

'We're on our way,' the big man rumbled.

'Not yet. Please. Give me an hour.'

An hour. That was the most he could hope for realistically. It was lucky they hadn't already called in the police or the army or the L4 ambassador.

Quatre slammed the 'phone down on Rashid's protests. Damn. He couldn't even take an evening off without all this drama.

Heero answered his 'phone on the first ring.

'Are you all right? Where are you?'

'I'm fine. Listen.'

He told Heero exactly what had happened, with many interruptions for his friend's horrified exclamations that he'd gone out, alone, at night, in a strange city, without telling anyone what his plans were.

'I didn't have plans,' he defended himself, knowing Heero wouldn't understand that. 'That's the point. I just needed to get away. Just for a few hours, I needed to be…not myself. Does that make any sense?'

'Hn.' Heero sounded grudgingly sympathetic. 'Perhaps. But going out alone was stupid. Anything could have happened to you. So where did you go?'

'A club.' Quatre pleated the hem of his over-large t-shirt. He needed something to occupy his spare hand and he wasn't wearing a tie to fiddle with. 'And, yes, before you can say it, I do know it was crazy, but I just had to get away for a little while. I just planned to stay out for a couple of hours and then go straight back to the hotel. I never meant for anyone to know I'd gone out.'

'What went wrong? 'Heero asked flatly.

'I was waiting for a taxi and I found out that someone had stolen my wallet. I started to walk back, and well, I got into a bit of trouble.' Heero let him describe the whole thing, right out to where Trowa had come to rescue him and taken him home, before interrupting.

'The incident was clearly a set up. He arranged it all, so he could help you. We don't know what he's after. You need to get out of there. Now. Do you hear me?'

'Heero, it wasn't like that! I swear. He's really nice; he helped me. There's no way he could have set all that up; we'd only just met and he wouldn't have had time.'

'He could have been following you ever since you arrived in Sanque. Quatre, I'm serious.

You need to call Rashid and leave. Understood?'

'No! Heero, you're just being paranoid. Trowa's lovely, and I trust him.'

Heero snorted. 'You're a terrible judge of character. Or do I need to remind you that your ex-boyfriend is trying to blackmail you?'

'I made one mistake when I was eighteen! Five years ago! You're just suffering from total paranoia, and you're wrong. What do you think; that he's trying to abduct me or something? He's just let me use his 'phone so I hardly think he's planning to imprison me.'

'You have no idea what he wants,' Heero said bluntly.

'Maybe he just likes me. Maybe he actually wanted to spend time with me. Is that so impossible to believe?'

'Of course not,' Heero said quietly. 'But most people look at you and see the heir to Winner Enterprises. I'm sorry but that's the way it is. You need to be careful and you're far too trusting. Now, can you please just call Rashid and get out of there?'

'I already did. So you don't have to worry; I'll be back at hotel in the next hour and then I can spend the day apologising for worrying everyone and grovelling to my sister.'

'Quatre.' Heero's voice was surprisingly gentle. 'When are you ever going to stop falling over yourself to please everyone in the universe?'

'I don't know. I don't think I'd know how to.' He sighed, flopping down on the mattress. 'Heero, I don't think I can go through with this.'

'What this exactly?' Heero's voice was dagger-sharpt.

'Everything. I don't want to marry a girl I don't even know and who doesn't want to be with me just because my family thinks I should. I just …..is it so wrong to want to be happy? To do what I want for once in my life?'

'What do you want?'

That was Heero; straight to the direct question.

'I don't know. Maybe the chance to not know, and to find out for myself. To make my own decisions' He rubbed his eyes. 'I don't know. I think I need some time to myself. Even just a couple of days. Iria is hung up on me marrying Relena because she thinks Sanque will have a huge problem doing business with a corporation whose CEO is gay and I don't think that's true. This isn't L4; they don't care about that sort of thing.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'Go home,' Quatre said quietly. 'Well, not home, really. The hotel we're staying. I don't exactly have anywhere else to go. I need to talk to Iria and my father. I'm supposed to be going to stay with old friends of his this afternoon. They have an estate in the county and Iria thinks it will keep me out of trouble. I didn't want to go, but it might be a good chance just to spend some time alone and decide what happens next.'

Heero said something that was lost in a burst of static.

'I'm sorry. The reception's not very good. I don't know if it's this line or yours.'

'Mine, probably. I shouldn't really be using my 'phone on a shuttle.'

'You're on a shuttle? Where are you going?'

'Winner.' Heero accompanied the word with a heavy sigh. 'Your sister called me at 2 am to say you'd apparently vanished. What did you expect me to do; just sit around twiddling my thumbs. I was worried about you, damnit. You've been miserable for weeks, I know what your sisters are trying to pressure you into doing….I was scared you might have done something stupid.'

'No!' Quatre breathed. 'Heero, I'd never do something like that.' He stopped short. He wouldn't; he wouldn't, but there had been a moment the previous night, looking over the balcony, when he'd thought how easy it would be just to fall, to fall into the stars. 'I wouldn't,' he repeated, trying to sound definite.

'You'd better not,' Heero said gruffly. 'Now, where exactly are you right now?'

'Um, I'm not exactly sure. It was late when we got here last night and I wasn't really paying attention. It's an apartment over a shop on Victoria Crescent. I'll be back at the Sanque Sheraton by the time you arrive though.' Quatre shook his head. 'I still can't believe you're on your way here. You don't have to go straight back tonight, do you?'

'I can stay for a few days.' His friend's tone mellowed a little. 'If you go to stay with these people in the country, I could maybe stay in a hotel nearby and we could spend some time together.'

'Really? But you never take holidays!'

'Look who's talking,' Heero scoffed. 'Quatre, I should be landing around seven pm, your time. I'll see you then.'

'See you then. And thank you for this.'

'Don't go all sentimental on me. Now, get back to the hotel and tell Iria what you've just told me.'

'Yes, sir.' Quatre dialled off and lay back on the bed. Tell Iria. Easier said than done. And she wasn't going to be in the most receptive of moods anyway, given his disappearing act. Maybe he could wait until Heero arrived, and at least have some moral support.

He could do this. He'd call Rashid and face Iria and get this interview over with, and then escape for a few days to decide what he wanted to do with his life. It was rather appealing actually; the prospect of spending a few days in the country, even if Iria and his assistants made sure he was loaded down with work to keep him busy.

He stretched, carefully, ticking off the various aches and pains as they registered. He wasn't used to physical pain; he'd fallen off his pony a couple of times when he'd been learning to ride, and Heero had given him bruises in fencing practice, but no one had ever deliberately tried to hurt him.

It was still a little hard to take in that total strangers had assaulted him like that; had tried very hard to cause damage. Would very likely have done more, if Trowa hadn't turned up.

Quatre fingered his cheek tentatively; it hurt. Oh, God. If it hurt that much, would there be a mark? Trowa didn't have any visible mirrors in his bedroom, but there was one behind his wardrobe door.

Oh, God.

Staring, appalled, at his face, Quatre sank down on to the floor. If anyone saw him like this….He couldn't possibly do any sort of interview. He couldn't let Iria see him. He certainly couldn't stay with the Noventas, who'd mention it to his father.

'Cat?' Trowa called softly, following it up with a light tap to the door. 'Is everything OK?'

'Fine.' Quatre bit his lip, rubbing his knuckles across his eyes, praying that Trowa wouldn't come in and see him like this.

He did, crossing the room in a few long strides and taking Quatre in his arms. It just felt so good to be gathered up like that.

'Hey. Shush. It's OK.'

'It's not OK.' Quatre snapped suddenly, hating himself and utterly powerless to stop. 'Look at me! I look like I lost a fight with a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I can't go out looking like this. I'm supposed to be going to stay with friends of my father, and I can't let them see me covered in bruises. And I my wallet was stolen so I've even lost the card you gave me so I'll never be able to find you again, and I don't even know your exact address.'

He stopped abruptly, partly because he was out of breath, partly because Trowa's hand was gently rubbing his back. It was hard to scream at someone when they were touching you like you were something precious, to be cherished.

No one had done that for so long.

'I'm sorry, Trowa. None of this is your fault. You're the last person I should be taking it out on.'

'It's OK. Listen, if you're so worried about losing my card, I'll give you another one. I can give you a dozen. But you know where I live now anyway, so maybe you don't need it.'

Quatre managed a faint smile at that; he simply couldn't help it.

'That's better. Here you go.' The hand that wasn't rubbing his back produced a wallet and held out a couple of small pieces of stiff card. 'This is where I live.'

'Wish Upon a Star,' Quatre read the Gothic letters slowly, eyes flying to Trowa's face.

The other man grinned at him. 'Yeah. It's a kids' bookshop. I can't remember if I told you that last night.'

'It's a great name. Truly.' There were stars all over the card, trailing light the way they did in cartoons. Quatre put it very carefully in his pocket. He wasn't going to lose this one.

'Listen, Cat. You had a seriously rough time last night, but you're OK now.' Trowa's hand very gently touched his face. 'These bruises will clear up in a couple of days. You can call these people and tell them you can you'll be arriving a few days later than planned. I'm sure you can think of a good excuse. You're more than welcome to stay here if you like. As for money, I can lend you some 'til you can get a replacement credit card or a money transfer from home or whatever. Will that do?'

'Why?' Quatre pulled away abruptly, all of Heero's warnings clanging in his head. 'Why are you being so nice to me?'

'You're in trouble; why wouldn't I help you?' The green eyes darkened suddenly. 'You think I'm after something in return; is that it?'

'Most people I know would be.'

'Then maybe you need to get to know some other people.' Trowa stood, raking his hair back from his face with one hand. 'If you don't want to stay here, that's fine. I can drive you wherever you want. Your decision.'

'I would like to stay with you. I just don't want to put you to any trouble.'

This was – incredibly stupid. Quatre knew that as soon as he said it. He couldn't just do something like this. He couldn't just go and stay with a total stranger for an indefinite period of time and pretend to be a normal person who didn't have responsibilities.

He'd said it though. He'd accepted Trowa's invitation.

'You're not that much trouble.' Trowa ruffled his hair, and plonked down on the floor beside him. 'Quatre, if you don't mind, there's one thing we need to talk about.'

Swallowing, Quatre nodded. God, he'd been stupid. Heero had been right. Of course, it was ridiculous to have imagined he could get away with this. The Sanque media had been covering the proposed treaty exhaustively for weeks; absurd not to imagine that one of them would have printed a picture of the Winner heir apparent.

Of course Trowa knew who he was. He'd known from the start. And perhaps Heero had even been right about it all being a set up. It wasn't like he hadn't spent his whole life being besieged by people who wanted to get close to his family, and their money. Especially their money.

'What do you want? How much?'

'How much what?' Trowa tossed his hair back, looking genuinely bewildered. 'I just wanted to know if you've got a boyfriend.'

It was Quatre's turn to blink. 'That's what you wanted to ask me? Why?'

'Quatre,' Trowa's voice lingered over the syllables of his name, his real name. 'Are you always this slow early in the morning? Or did you get knocked on the head last night?' He chuckled, one finger drawing a slow caress over Quatre's uninjured cheek. 'You're cute when you blush like that. So……boyfriend or no boyfriend?'

'No boyfriend,' Quatre whispered.

It was perfectly true. He didn't have anyone. Except, maybe for a couple of days, he could let himself live a fantasy life where he actually did.

'Me neither.' Trowa's voice was equally low, as if they were sharing secrets, as if someone might overhear them. 'Fancy that.'

 

~ * ~

Chapter 6

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