Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. This one came to me earlier on today when I was doing biology revision for the exam which I think starts in an hour… anyway, this isn't as dark as the chapter before, but don't worry, I'll make up for it in Ch 3. evil grin

Please leave your reviews at the exit!

Will

As the men filed out of the room, Quatre's gaze lingered on Stuart. As he shut the door, Quatre was thrown into darkness once more and left to contemplate his position. He wondered why so much care was being taken of him, and of his clothes. He had never felt so vulnerable. He tugged repeatedly at the scarves around his wrists and tried to undo them, but they had been tied in such a way that he couldn't worm his way out of them. The boy cursed under his breath. He shut his eyes and concentrated, seeing if he could be able to use brute force to get himself free. He bit his bottom lip and pulled with his arms, and tried to draw his knees up to his chest.

As he strained all of his muscles, some of his injuries were moved and he let out a gasp of pain. He hadn't realised just how badly he'd been injured. Quatre struggled for a long time until he felt exhaustion pulling at him. He wanted to fight it, he didn't want to fall asleep here, it wasn't safe for him. But his already sleep-deprived mind accepted the tendrils of unconsciousness and pulled it closer. Within seconds, Quatre's eyelids began to close. He struggled against it, but couldn't fight anymore. He shut his eyes and let his breathing even out, maybe the dream world would be kinder to him than this world was…

Duo wanted to scream. They all looked at him with pity, and he had a distinct feeling that Trowa was starting to blame him for Quatre being taken. He couldn't do anything because of his injuries, even though the only reminder of them was throbbing pain everywhere, a cast on his leg and a bandage around his head. The American had caught sight of himself in a mirror earlier and almost wet himself laughing at his shabby appearance. His hair was all messy, his face was still slightly muddy somehow and with a bit of persuasion, he had managed to convince Heero to take the bandage off his head so that he could brush through his hair and re-braid it so that it wasn't so messy and he got Heero's help to wash his face carefully to get rid of the mud. Really, what his hair needed was a wash, but Heero had said that until his head wound was all healed, Duo would have to live with greasy hair. The brunette had sulked for a while before he resigned himself to greasiness and relaxed again.

The sunny pilot of Deathscythe hated the way that he was incapable of doing anything, especially at the moment. He just couldn't even go to the toilet alone. Wufei seemed to even be worried for him, when he found Duo on the floor on the verge of tears earlier that day because he had gone to the toilet and knocked the bottom of his ribs on the sink as he washed his hands. He was suitably embarrassed and even given a buzzer if he felt the need to leave the bed again. He had tried to sleep, since that was what the others had said was best, but he found it so hard, each time he shut his eyes his imagination cooked up horrible images of Quatre being tortured and interrogated at the hands of OZ. He knew that Quatre wouldn't say anything, but he didn't like the thought of the gentle blond suffering at the hands of the cruel men at their opposing organisation.

He thought for another moment, about why this was affecting him so much, he was just worried for his friend's wellbeing, Quatre was one of the first people to be openly kind to him since the Maxwell Orphanage, and being a Gundam pilot, Duo thought that Quatre stood a chance with being protected from his death curse. But obviously that was not the case, he had still been taken. He had to do something, but in his current state, Duo was unable to do anything but lie there, contemplating the fate Quatre had. And it brought tears to his eyes when he thought of how the gentle blonde could be broken… it would tear the whole team apart. Not to mention how it would destroy Quatre. And as Quatre was destroyed piece by piece, so would Duo be… and the braided boy knew it.

"I told you not to hurt him." A hazy voice growled somewhere above him. Quatre blinked blearily and cleared his sleep-fogged brain as he focused on the two people standing above him. The answer was faint, as if its owner was scared. They spoke a bit more before one of them left and Quatre was hauled into a sitting position by Lucien himself and taken over to a chair where he was sat down roughly, his hands being loosely bound behind his back, not so loose that he could get away, but just enough so that he did not get injured.

"What do you want?" Quatre asked, repeating his question of the other day. Lucien's eyes glinted and he walked around the blonde, his hands straying over Quatre's shoulders, fingers brushing the back of his neck causing an involuntary shudder on Quatre's part.

"You know what I want, Quatre." Came the husky reply, his captor's breath hot on his ears.

"You're mad." The younger boy replied angrily, moving his head away from the other man's. "And sick."

"I guess this is going to have to be done the hard way then." Lucien growled, seating himself on Quatre's lap, his legs hooking around the back legs of the chair. Quatre tensed, preparing for a strike or for Lucien's hands to stray all over his body, but nothing happened. "I am sorry that you do not wish to co-operate with me."

Then a rough hand grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards, Quatre wincing in preparation for the injury he would receive. Before he could pull away, Lucien's other hand cupped the back of his head and pulled the smaller boy towards him, planting his lips roughly on Quatre's in a bruising kiss. The blond was too stunned to do anything a first, his blue eyes widening to the biggest they had ever been, but then he began to struggle and thrash in the chair as he regained his senses.

Lucien held tightly to the boy's head and gave a well-timed jab to the ribs, the pilot letting out a gasp of pain, the perfect opportunity for the man's tongue to sneak in. As Quatre protested with as much force as he could, Lucien continued to explore the boy's mouth thoroughly. Finally, Quatre, after almost gagging on the probing tongue, bit down hard.

Lucien jerked away with a muffled yelp of surprise and pain. Quatre glared at him in defiance before he scooted his chair backwards in a vain attempt to get away from him, the coppery taste of the man's blood on his tongue and the taste of the man still on his lips. He inwardly grimaced.

"Why Quatre," Lucien said somewhat thickly. "I never thought you had it in you to deny help to someone who needs it." He gingerly fingered his tongue, wincing as his hand reached where Quatre's teeth had come down. "Never had you down as that type I must say."

Quatre's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I help those who deserve it. I can safely say that you don't."

"Quatre…" Lucien whispered, quickly walking over to Quatre who scooted backwards even further, but as the older man stood above him, the blonde was suddenly very aware that there was a wall sandwiching him between it and the other person. "Quatre, Quatre, Quatre…" It seemed that the man enjoyed the sound of his name on his tongue, but Quatre hated it rolling over his lips, it sounded disgusting, nothing at all like when Trowa said it, even Duo made his name sound nicer.

What were they doing now? Was Trowa worrying? Duo! Oh… what had happened to Duo? Quatre prayed that his braided friend was still alive, allowing his mind to stray as a sharp backhanded slap sent his head reeling to one side, exposing his neck for the man to ravage, his teeth grazing over his neck, biting down hard on his shoulder and then sucking on the exposed flesh leaving a mark.

"Mine…" Lucien growled, teeth latching onto Quatre's shoulder again, nibbling, biting, sucking, licking, tasting, touching… violating…

"I'm not yours." Quatre muttered savagely, another backhand making white spots dance in front of his eyes. "I never will be. You're sick."

"So you said." Lucien grumbled, seating himself comfortably on the younger boy's lap. "However, you'll be singing a different tune when I'm through with you. I defy you to not be praising the ground I walk on after this."

Quatre was vaguely aware of his shirt being ripped off, Lucien's hands straying over his body. He withdrew into himself, his unfocused eyes looking at some part of the wall on the other side of the room and his senses shut down so that he couldn't feel Lucien.

"Sir," The door opened and a familiar voice spoke, startling Quatre back to his body, it was Stuart. "Sir there is someone here to see you. He says that it is urgent, about the captive." Lucien growled and got up off Quatre, a final stroke down the side of his face, smiling as Quatre pulled his head away from the man's touch.

"Very well. Keep an eye on our guest please, Stuart." The Preventer nodded and stepped aside as Lucien swept out. Stuart watched him leave for a second before flicking the light on fully and running in, the door squeaking shut behind him. He headed towards the back of Quatre's chair and began untying the ropes, slashing through the ones around his ankles with a penknife. Looping Quatre's arm over his shoulders, he raised the blond off the chair and started taking him to the door. He turned the light back down and leant Quatre against the wall as he made every effort to shut the door without it squeaking. Reaching into his pocket as he took Quatre's arm again, he flicked a switch and a siren blared throughout the compound. He took off his jacket and gave it to Quatre to wear, just so that he would look like an agent if asked.

"What's going on?" The pilot asked, frowning. "What did you do?" Stuart gave a small grin and made to answer when he stopped, frowned himself and then picked up the pace. Soldiers were pouring from every doorway heading into the main control office. Once of them stopped as they passed by Stuart and Quatre.

"What are you two doing here? And why is he not dressed in uniform?" Quatre kept his gaze downwards so that the other soldier couldn't see it. Stuart's grip on Quatre tightened, making the other boy emit a squeak of pain.

"He's injured. I've got orders from Millicent to take him outside. It would go a lot faster if you would help me carry him. He was ordered bed-rest, but our COs want him transported to the nearest hospital as soon as possible. It's all sorted; I just need to get him to the transport.

The soldier seemed to contemplate that for a minute before he agreed, scooping Quatre up into his arms and carrying him gently with long, measured strides towards the exit of the compound. He moved with a grace strange, unusual from a soldier of his status. Quatre was amazed at how gently he was being held; he briefly wondered whether or not he would have been carried with the same care had the man known he was a Gundam pilot. The answer that came to mind was no. But he didn't say anything; he just murmured a thank-you and the soldier replied with a clipped, "It's nothing for a comrade."

They reached the door and left the building, whilst the alarms were still blaring. Stuart took Quatre from the other soldier and nodded his thanks. The soldier bowed slightly before wishing Quatre to get better soon before turning and walking back into the compound to round up the other soldiers.

"Hurry, Quatre." Stuart urged, the transport within their sights – a small plane that would get them away from the compound. Quatre nodded and gritted his teeth, the adrenaline in his veins forcing him to run faster to keep up with the Preventer in front of him.

As they boarded a carrier, Stuart grabbing Quatre's arm and easing him into the passenger seat. After he had done the smaller boy up, Stuart sat down himself and started the launch sequence for the shuttle. Quatre wanted to help, but his body was shaking with the aftermath of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his system. It was starting to wear off now, and he could feel the pain returning, his breathing coming in ragged wheezes.

He thought that he heard footsteps, featherlight as if someone was trying to mask their presence. Quatre thought of mentioning this to Stuart, but when he heard nothing else, he shook it off as paranoia. This was a rescue attempt afterall.

Suddenly, Quatre felt something sharp pierce his neck and his eyelids felt droopy. He looked forward to see Stuart looking above him, eyes wide with horror. As he lost consciousness, the last thing he heard was a gunshot, and Stuart screaming his name…

A/N: What do you think? Leave a review?

Will