Here's my *new* pride and joy,
my new baby (since What's Meant to Be is no longer spinning constantly through
my mind). This is a long fic, inspired by,
well, Please Save my Earth. (I'm so in
love with Issei it's pathetic. It
rivals my Quatre-obsession at the moment.) So, this fic came out of it.
Warnings: Umm…in this section,
I guess the only thing would be shounen ai. Maybe language—I don't remember.
Pairings: well, this is a 3x4/4x3 fic, but this
section only as 3+4 and 2+Hilde. My big
warning is that other than Trowa, all the characters are straight (well, Quatre
has some tendencies . . . he just needs to accept them . . .) and of course,
like all my straight-fics (and most my fics, in general) this is sympathetic to
Relena. I like her, and I've vowed to
stop apologizing to the GW fan-fiction world about it; if you can't deal with
her, well, don't read it.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, of course, is not mine. It's owned by Sunrise and the Sotsu Agency,
along with whatever copyrights the N. American companies added to it.
C&C is more than welcome.
From
Forever to Forever
Prologue: To Have
"The peace of the world will
in the end
depend on our capacity
for friendship and
our willingness to use
it."
—Bertha Conde
Christmas
Day, A.C. 198—Quatre Winner—4:00 p.m.
I run through the halls, trying to find the other
pilots. I can't wait to tell them my
news—I haven't seen them for three months. I'd been pretty busy, and I hadn't been able to call them while I was
away, so now that I'm back, I have to make up for the lost time. And there's a lot to tell them. I can't keep the grin from my face—I've been
like this for three days.
The Preventor Headquarters aren't incredibly large, but
it takes a while to get from the barracks to the recreation room. I'm pretty sure they're in there—at least
Duo and WuFei are. There's no telling
about Trowa and Heero. They're not exactly
the most social people, so I kind of wonder if they're even going to be at the
Christmas party.
When I enter the room, it's pretty crowded and
noisy. I can't even hear Duo's
remarkably loud voice. He should be
here, though. He wasn't in his and
Trowa's room when I checked—none of the guys were in the barracks. I pray that they're all here, I'm too
excited to round them up, and I want to tell them all together.
"Hey Quatre!" I finally hear Duo's voice over the clinking beer bottles and the loud
stereo. He weaves through the crowd of
billiard players and clamps on to my shoulder. "You made it!"
"Yeah," I say, trying to hold back on my
grinning until the others are here. "Where are the rest of you guys?"
"Over here," Duo says, pulling me across the
room. Heero and Trowa are leaning
against the wall, scowling and drinking. I can tell that things haven't changed that much. WuFei's finishing his turn at the pool
table. They don't look incredibly
happy, but I know that their presence alone means a lot. "We figured you'd be calling today to
tell us that you couldn't make it after all—you've been too busy to drop us a
line every now and then?"
I blush slightly at his admonishments. I was busy—but there was more to it than
that. Trowa and Heero nod their hellos
and WuFei hands me his cue stick. I set
it on the table, careful not to bump anything.
"I have been pretty busy for the last month—but it's
not what you think," I begin.
Heero raises his eyebrows slightly. "You mean, you haven't been buried in
your family business since you left?"
"Then why haven't you bothered to call
us?" Trowa actually sounds . . .
concerned.
"Well," I say, pausing to take a deep breath,
"I met a girl."
"Ah, I see now." WuFei smiles, almost mischievously.
"Yeah." I don't bother hiding my grin now. "Her name's Silvia. Silvia
Noventa; her grandfather was Field Marshall Noventa, of the former Earth Sphere
Alliance."
Heero nods again. "Yeah, I know her. So does
Trowa."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm," Trowa concurs. "We met her during the war, when Heero
was recuperating."
"She mentioned something about having already met a
gundam pilot—I guess I just forgot." I shrug my shoulders. It's not
that important to any of us now—Field Marshall Noventa's death was in the past
now, and we'd atoned for it ten times over during the war. "But anyway," I continue, shaking
my head, "I met Silvia when I was back in the L4 cluster, and we really
hit it off."
"Great!" Duo claps me on the shoulder again. I'd forgotten about that annoying habit of his. "So why isn't she here?"
My smile is so wide it actually hurts my cheeks. "She's in Marseilles, with her
family. We already had different
Christmas plans, so we decided to go ahead and separately tell everyone that we
got married."
"Married?" I've never
seen Heero look so bewildered. His eyes
are wide and his face pale. "But
you're a Preventor. We can't just run
off and start families!"
WuFei scowls—I've been expecting that sort of reaction
from him. "Marriage is seldom wise
among children."
I shake my head, my smile lessening. "We're not children anymore,
WuFei. I'm eighteen, I've lived and
fought more than most people on earth, I already own a colonial corporation—the
list goes on. She's older than
me—she'll be twenty in four months—and she's already got a stable career in the
parliament on my colony. I don't think
we've been careless about it." The
bitterness in my voice is noticeable. I
expected them to be happy for me. I
glance at Trowa and Duo, looking for support.
"Is she pregnant?" Duo asks, his face straight. He's not joking.
"No," I answer, my voice surprisingly even,
despite my rising anger. "We
didn't get married because we had to. We did it because we wanted to, because we're in love."
Duo watches me closely for an instant, maybe searching
for some sign that I'm being completely honest or something. But after a minute he breaks into a grin and
hands me his beer. "This calls for
celebration!" he shouts, yanking me close for a hug.
I pull away, pleased that someone finally seemed to get
it. I immediately give the beer back,
though—I was raised Muslim, so I can't drink with them. Instead I look over at Trowa, who still
hasn't really said anything. I'm about
to say something to him when he leaves the room.
I suppose "leaves" is a really subtle way of
putting it.
He storms out, probably heading toward the barracks. I want to follow him, but WuFei pulls me
aside.
"You know, I don't exactly approve of marriage and
all, but I'm sure you'll make it work better than anyone else I
know." His voice is soft; his
words are sincere. I don't know a lot
about his past, but I remember he did tell me about the wife he had before the
war. I can't blame him for being
against marriage after his ordeal, so I'm incredibly grateful for his words.
"Congratulations, Quatre," Heero says, tossing
me the cue stick again. "Wanna
play a quick game? It may be our last
chance, considering that the last time I saw your wife, I was going to let her
kill me, and she was almost mad enough to do it." With a strangely maniacal laugh, he starts
pulling the balls out of the pockets of the table.
"Ignore him," Duo whispers. "He's probably half-drunk. I doubt she still holds it against
him."
For an instant I wonder what I'm getting into. But it only lasts for an instant. I love her, and I know that she's completed
my life.
Christmas Day—Trowa Barton—6:54
p.m.
He didn't follow me. I want to hit myself every time I think about him. Of course he didn't follow. He probably hadn't noticed that I left. He's too happy, he's enjoying his newfound
wedded bliss.
And where does that leave me?
I'm being melodramatic. Catherine always tells me to loosen up, not take things so
seriously. But what can be more serious
than this? I know he's making a
mistake. He's got his whole life ahead
of him—his career, his family—they can wait. He has to live his life before he can settle down, right?
Even as I tell myself these things, I know that there's
something else bothering me. This isn't
the way I'd always seen it.
The frigid air feels good out here on the balcony. It's a little too cold, since I don't have a
coat—but I really don't care right now. I just don't want to go to the mess hall, where they've set up a
Christmas dinner. The others will be
there, and Heero will examine me, wondering what is making me even more
withdrawn. And Duo and Quatre will talk
about Silvia Noventa, and how distinguished and beautiful and intelligent she is. Quatre will tell them all how he met her,
and what their first date was like, and how he proposed. And the whole time WuFei will give me
sympathetic looks, as though he's figured out the secrets of the universe, and
he knows that I haven't yet.
So tell me, WuFei, how do you deal with the love of your
life marrying someone else?
Even to myself it sounds ridiculous.
How can I love him? We're both soldiers; we're both guys.
How can I not love him?
I sigh, leaning against the painfully cold metal
railing. I want the day to end. I want to go to bed and wake up with some
sort of answer. I want to stop feeling
angry and betrayed. Why should I feel
betrayed if I've never told him how I feel?
"Hey." Quatre. His voice is soft,
gentle. For a moment I wonder if that's
the way he talks to her. But then I get
the image of him kissing her, holding her. My stomach turns, and I get angry with him, angry with myself.
"Why aren't you having your Christmas
dinner?" My voice doesn't reveal
any of my emotional turmoil, and I'm thankful.
"I wanted to see why you were out here," he
answers hesitantly. Though my back is
turned to him, I'm certain he has one hand on the doorframe, the other in his
pocket. His head is probably cocked
slightly to one side, and in this light his eyes are undoubtedly a deep
turquoise shade.
My thoughts only make me angrier. I want to lash out, but I don't know where
to begin.
"Will you come back inside?" he asks. "It's way too cold out here,
Trowa."
I love the way he says my name. Even though it's not my real name, every time he says it, it
feels as though I'd had it since I was born. I want him to say it again, and I know that if I don't answer him, I
might hear it.
"Trowa?" I don't
smile, but I can feel an old familiar soothing sensation in my chest. He continues. "It's really cold. Don't
you think you should come inside?"
And listen to them all talk about Quatre's new perfect
life? I'd rather stay out here for the
entire night.
I feel him step closer to me. "Tonight's my last night with the Preventors," he says, his voice
low. "I resigned this afternoon. You're my best friend, Trowa. I'd really like to spend the evening with
you."
How many times have I thought the same thing? I close my eyes—they are burning, and I'm
sure I'll cry soon if I keep thinking like this. Of course, the context of my thoughts was undoubtedly
different. I feel really strange.
I turn on him. "Why did you do it? Don't you
realize what you're going to miss out on? You won't be able to go on any more missions, you won't be able to hang
out with us. You have an entire life to
live and you're tossing it aside in order to lead some crazy fantasy life. You hardly even know her—you just met a
month ago." I can't finish what I want
to say. How can he choose someone he's
known for a month when I've loved him for three years?
His eyes flash with anger. "Listen, Trowa," he says, his voice filled with venom. I've rarely heard him sound like this. "I didn't come out here to have my decisions
questioned. I think I know better than
you what I want from my life. I don't
need missions to make me feel like a strong person. I don't want to go around fighting for the rest of my life. I care more about her than I've ever cared
about anything." His eyes soften. "But next to her, you're the most important
person in my life—I came back today hoping for some support, not to be
chastised by my closest friends."
So that's how it will be from now on? I'll be the second most important person in
his life, while he's the center of my universe? It isn't right. I would
hand over my life to him in a heartbeat if I could, but apparently he would
never care enough to let me. And what
will happen once he has children? Will
I be bumped down, gradually becoming the third, then the fourth most important
person in his life?
I'm being selfish. But I love him too much to just watch him leave. I try again.
"Did you consider how other people feel about you? Did you ever think about the people you'd be leaving behind?" I ask, stepping closer to him. I want to touch him.
"Others?" His
face pales. "What are you talking
about, Trowa?" His voice growls
slightly, as if he knows what I'm about to say and he doesn't want to hear it.
I ignore his warning. "I always thought that somewhere along the line we'd leave the
Preventors together." I reach out to
him, tugging his shoulders. He resists
slightly. "I thought that maybe we'd
end up married someday." There. I've said it.
His eyes go wide, his mouth hanging open just a bit. I've shocked him. I've probably disgusted him, too, but I don't care. I yank him close to me, crushing my lips
against his. One arm winds around his
waist and I cradle his head with the other. Just one kiss before I let her have him. I've dreamed about this numerous times. But never did I dream that he'd struggle and push me away. My chest hurts from the force of his shove.
"What are you doing?" he demands, taking another two
steps backward. His face is twisted
into an expression of horror and anger. "Trowa—men don't marry men, they marry women." His voice drips with sarcasm, and I refuse
to let my emotions show on my face. His
words are killing me. "How could you do
this now—today—when I came to tell you about my marriage? Damnit, Trowa, you can't do this!"
I press my lips firmly together, trying to deny the stabs
of pain in my chest. "You're right," I
answer softly. "I'm sorry I said
anything." I brush past him, heading
inside. I'm sorry I ever confessed. I'm sorry I ever fell in love. I'm sorry I ever met him.
But I'm still in love with him. I can't stand it, but I still want to be the one wearing his
wedding ring.
Christmas Day—Duo Maxwell—9:23
p.m.
I'd have to be blind not to notice the tension. Quatre isn't talking to anyone. Trowa hasn't been seen for hours. It's so obvious to me that it's hilarious no
one else has figured it out.
Trowa is hopelessly in love with Quatre. He has been for a while now. The first time I noticed it was when we
finished out last battle against the Libra. Heero had flown off into space, and we landed on MOII, along with
Quatre's Maganac troops. Quatre was
still in a lot of pain from his duel with Dorothy—she kicked his ass in that
sword fight.
But Trowa immediately ran over to his side and carried
him to the infirmary. I followed—I was
concerned about Quatre, and I didn't really have anything else to do. When I got into the sickbay Quatre had been
laid out on an examination table and he was unconscious. Without the adrenaline of battle, I don't
think he could handle the pain.
Trowa was taking care of him, cleaning the wound with
gentle hands. And he looked
scared. Now, in the three years I've
known Trowa, I don't think I've ever really seen him look scared. I don't think I've ever seen him look like
anything—he's always just calm, sensible Trowa. But that time he looked worried. And he was so careful. It was
really weird, watching him handle Quatre with such tenderness when I had seen
him kill hundreds of people. I guess
that's always surprising with mobile suit pilots—but it was really weird with
Trowa.
And that's when I realized that he loved Quatre.
Looking back it's
really obvious that he's always had a thing for him. But I didn't know where to look, I suppose. Up until today I thought that Quatre loved
him back, too.
Who'd've thought Quatre would be straight? He's not exactly the most . . . masculine
guy I've ever met. He dresses so primly,
and he's awfully sensitive. I guess I
always figured him for gay. But now
he's married—so I suppose that means I was wrong. Unless he's denying his own feelings, that is.
I don't know why I'm stressing over this. I guess I don't have anything better to
think about. Hilde brushed me off
again—I'm kind of getting the idea that she's not really interested
anymore. But I don't want to give up
just yet. I just need to lay the
Maxwell charm on good and thick. That's
gonna make her realize what she's missing! Or maybe I could play WuFei's game. He always pretends that he's not interested in Sally, and it drives her
crazy. She'd bend over backwards for
some attention from him. Or I could be
like Heero. He just laughs maniacally
and spends his free time in the shooting range, ignoring the world around
him. Yet Relena Darlian still sends
about twelve messages a week. Personally I think he's on the verge of a mental breakdown. I wonder if he ever writes back . . .
Overall, I think this Christmas has sucked. Yeah, I'm happy for Quatre, but I'll never
understand why anyone would give up the Preventor life to get married. Then again, Hilde's a Preventor, so I get to
see her all the time. But I still don't
understand marriage. I think Quatre's the
only Gundam pilot who gets life on the outside. The rest of us are too caught up in the killing and the scheming
to understand falling in love in any normal way.
I've been sitting in the lounge for at least thirty
minutes now, and no one else has come in. WuFei's in the library, I just know it. And Heero's probably at the range. No telling with Trowa. And
Quatre may as well not be here. I think
he's concerned about Trowa. No, he's
smiling, so he's probably remembering how good it is to hold Silvia. Not that I blame him—I've seen plenty of
pictures of her to be jealous. Somehow
this sweet little killer friend of mine managed to snag one of the hottest
girls in the world.
Poor Trowa.
