by Anne Olsen
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.
Thanks: To Bast and Hex for beta reading. Also to Anon and Jessica for fic stalking.
"There was no need for you to know."
They were married. How could Quatre think he didn't need to know? Walking into the bedroom and closing the door behind him, Trowa sat down on their bed with a thump. Swinging his legs over, he leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes in an attempt to focus his thoughts.
What else did Quatre think he didn't need to know?
"Your magical talents…at least your ability to move objects, it's not working is it?"
Quatre hadn't denied Duo's question, neither had he answered it. Frowning, Trowa grabbed the end of one of the blankets and clenched his fist around it as he remembered an incident from a few months ago. One of his patients had been brought in with heavy bleeding and he'd sent Quatre to collect the herbs he'd needed. After the animal had stabilised he'd realised that the medicine had been out of reach on the top shelf of the cabinet and that the step stool was still broken. Quatre had smiled, shrugged, and told him there had been some left of the previous batch; a batch that Trowa clearly remembered using the last of the day before.
Obviously Quatre had lied to him.
Letting the blanket fall from between his fingers, Trowa opened his eyes and rolled over to stare at Quatre's side of the bed.
Quatre, I love you. I trusted you.
Didn't love and trust go together?
"Trowa, I love you."
During the six months they'd been married and the five years spent getting to know each other, Trowa couldn't remember Quatre ever saying that he returned that trust.
Closing his eyes again he mouthed the words again. Quatre, I love you. I trusted you. The image of Quatre in his memory brought his hand up to Trowa's brow and stroked it, but his smile was sad.
"I know you did, Trowa."
I don't care what you are, Cat. You're still the person I fell in love with, that hasn't changed. I just….
I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust you again.
A sudden falling sensation caused Trowa to open his eyes with a start and he was surprised at the coldness of the room. Deciding he must have dozed off for a moment, he moved over to the window to close the shutters. The sun had gone behind a cloud; the drop in temperature heralding the approaching dusk.
Glancing out into the garden, he was surprised that Quatre was nowhere in sight. But then, he'd probably come inside by now and would be in the kitchen talking to Duo. Hopefully Duo would give them some time alone; Trowa needed to talk to Quatre about their sleeping arrangements for tonight. As much as he wanted to pretend nothing had changed, he wasn't sure that he could cope with sharing a bed just yet. He'd sleep in front of the fire and leave Quatre theirs; it was important he take care of himself and their unborn children.
What Duo had told them didn't seem possible, yet Trowa knew that he was right. If Duo hadn't arrived today, how long would it have taken Quatre to reveal his pregnancy? Had he truly been as unaware of his condition as he'd claimed? Trowa had the momentarily unpleasant thought that Quatre might have used him to ensure the continuation of his line but he dismissed it.
Quatre wasn't like that; he couldn't be like that.
Could he?
Walking out into the kitchen, he was surprised to be met by silence. Duo looked up from his book and smiled a greeting. "I helped myself to some chicory," he said, "I hope that's all right; I seem to be developing a taste for it."
"That's fine," Trowa nodded his approval. "Have you seen Quatre? I need to talk to him."
"He hasn't come inside yet." Duo frowned. "I'm sorry about before. This must be a terrible shock for you." He twirled the end of his braid around his fingers. "I guess I was so excited about finding Quatre that I didn't stop to think about how it might effect both of you." Duo paused. "You've known him all this time and you never even suspected?"
"No." Trowa wasn't in the mood to enter into a discussion now. "Duo, I think you've said enough for one day. Quatre and I need some privacy so I'd appreciate it if you'd make yourself scarce."
"It's the least I can do." Duo stood and started gathering his books together. "By the time you come back I'll be in my room. I've had a long day and I'm tired."
"Thank you." Trowa closed the door behind him to keep in the warmth and walked quickly out into the garden.
Quatre wasn't there.
"Quatre?" he called. "Cat?"
Reaching the spot where he and Quatre had argued, Trowa called again but there was no reply. Ignoring his growing unease, Trowa checked the perimeter of the garden but to no avail. Although Quatre did have a tendency to go for long walks when he was upset, it was growing late and cold, and he now had the added responsibility of the wellbeing of the children he carried - their children.
"Quatre?" Trowa started back towards the house, intending to collect a cloak for both himself and his husband. He'd start looking on the trails he knew Quatre favoured and then spread out from there. Duo could help.
A sliver of sunlight glanced off a small object on the path leading from the gate. His stomach knotting, Trowa bent to retrieve it. As he'd thought, it was a tiny metal dart such as those favoured by hunters who wanted to capture, but not kill, their prey. One whiff confirmed his fears as he recognised the familiar smell of the sleeping potion he sometimes used to sedate uncooperative animals in order to treat them.
"They're hunted for their skin, it's worth a small fortune to the right people."
Oh God. Someone had taken Quatre.
His mind filled with images of Quatre lying restrained on a slab while the sharp edge of a knife marked pale smooth skin into sections, ready to begin harvesting it piece by bloody piece.
Trowa sunk to his knees and vomited, his stomach churning as he tried to ignore the acid burning his throat. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he struggled to his feet. He couldn't think about that now. Quatre had to be all right; he had to be.
He'd told Quatre he needed time but how much time did Quatre have? Soon it would be dark; he'd need to move quickly if there was any chance of tracking Quatre and whoever had taken him.
Running for the house, Trowa left the door swinging behind him as he headed for his surgery? "Duo," he yelled. "Duo!"
"What?" By the time Duo poked his head through the door, Trowa had his bow on his back and his staff in his hand. "Trowa, what's wrong?" Duo glanced around the room. "Where's Quatre?"
"He's gone. I found a dart laced with sleeping potion." He handed it to Duo. "What can you tell me about these hunters?"
"Not a lot." Duo sniffed the dart. "I don't recognise the smell, it's not one I've used before."
Trowa's expression was grim. "That's because it's usually only used on animals." He grabbed a knapsack from the corner of the room. "I only use it when I have to as it causes dizziness and nausea, and has to administered in large quantities to be effective."
"Give me a moment to collect some supplies. I'm coming with you."
"If you are, you'd better hurry," Trowa told him. "I'm leaving in a few minutes. One of our neighbours has a dog he uses for tracking; hopefully he can pick up Quatre's scent." Gripping the wooden staff firmly in one hand, he headed towards the door. "If you're not…."
The room spun and Trowa almost lost his footing. The staff hit the floor with a thud after he brought his hand to his chest in response to the sharp pain.
Confusion. Fear. Panic.
He was drowning in a wave of emotions he knew weren't his own. Closing his eyes in an attempt to shut out them out, Trowa was barely aware of Duo's arms around him as he tried to offer support.
"Trowa!"
Even though he knew it was impossible, Trowa was sure he'd heard Quatre call his name. "Cat," he whispered, "where are you?"
Quatre gingerly opened first one eye, then the other, and groaned. Struggling into a sitting position, he attempted to ignore the thumping in his head as his stomach lurched and he tasted bile.
It took several moments for it to register that the black lines in front of his eyes were metal bars.
The attempted curse came out as a croak; Quatre brought his hand up to his throat only to be stopped by a barrier of cold steel around his neck. Looking down, he tried to ignore his rising panic when he realised that the chain attached to the collar was anchored to a metal ring fixed into the floor by his feet.
Straining his eyes in the half dark, he examined his surroundings; the only light source appeared to be a small rectangular slot, presumably for ventilation, cut into the wall on the other side of the room. The cage he was in took up about half the floor space; the two smaller cages on either side were empty. There was a walk space of about a foot around each cage and while the floor surrounding the caged area was wooden, that of the cage itself was metal.
The floor tilted without warning and Quatre grabbed hold of one of the cage bars to stop himself sliding. Outside a woman cursed, horses neighed in protest and the ground beneath him levelled again.
What was this place? The straw lining the floor and the strong animal smell in the air only served to confirm his fear. An empty feeding bowl was jammed between two of the metal bars and, bringing his feet together, he kicked at it in the hope that he could do some damage by dislodging it but to no avail.
He had to get out of here before his captors noticed he was awake. Forcing himself to stand, Quatre closed his eyes and pictured the cage opening and his restraints breaking apart.
Nothing happened.
Why wasn't it working? Quatre yanked at the chain around his neck frantically with both hands but it refused to budge. Another wave of nausea hit and he dry retched before sliding down the bars into a sitting position.
Duo's questions had implied that the disappearance of his talent was connected with the pregnancy. It didn't make sense. He needed it now more than ever to ensure both his own survival and that of his children.
One hand caressed his stomach. Trowa had said that he still loved him, but how long would it take before the look in his eyes changed to one of disgust once the reality of what Quatre was truly fully sunk in.
How could he have been so stupid as to drop his guard? Being with Trowa, safe in his arms each night, Quatre had allowed himself a contentment he'd never dared before. And now he was paying for it.
Quatre curled himself into a ball and hugged his knees. No, he wouldn't allow himself to think like that. He needed to hang onto that hope, to believe that once he got out of here, that he and Trowa still had a future together.
Unease. Fear. Panic. Anger
"Trowa?" Quatre whispered his husband's name as he recognised Trowa's unique empathic signature. His sense of Trowa was much stronger than it had been; was it possible to use that to his advantage? Closing his eyes, he pictured first his surroundings, and then Trowa's face, in his mind and focused his remaining talent to send a message to the one person who might be able to 'hear' him.
"Trowa?" Duo sounded worried. "What is it?"
"Quatre. I can feel him..." Trowa took several deep breaths, aware of how unbelievable the words sounded.
"You can feel him?" Duo stared at Trowa, his mouth opening and closing several times before he spoke again. "But that's not possible. I never anticipated…but you're human."
"Duo, I haven't got time for this." Trowa shot him a glare. "What just happened?"
"Huh?" Duo seemed to suddenly realise that Trowa was still waiting for an answer. "Quatre has magical talents, several actually. His ability to move objects with his mind isn't working at present because of the pregnancy." Duo took a breath. "In order to protect the unborn children, his mental energy has been redirected from that to strengthening his empathy; or to be more precise, his empathic connection with his mate, which in this case is you."
"Empathy?" Trowa frowned. What else hadn't Quatre told him?
"The ability to sense emotions," Duo told him helpfully.
"I know what empathy is," Trowa didn't bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "Duo, get to the point."
"But you're human, you don't have empathic abilities. According to my research, you shouldn't be able to sense Quatre at all."
"Your research must be wrong," Trowa said. He hefted the knapsack onto his back. "Is there anyway we can use this to find him?"
"I don't know," Duo shook his head. "If there is it's nothing I've heard about. But maybe…"
"Maybe?" Trowa began walking towards the door. "We can discuss this on the way. The longer we wait, the colder the trail grows." There had been no mistaking the fear and isolation he'd felt from Quatre. Whoever had him was going to regret what they'd done. "I'll go saddle the horses; you can borrow Quatre's."
Quatre's eyes snapped open when he heard the door, but it was closed too quickly for him to see what lay beyond. The woman entering the room was slim, blonde, and flanked by two armed men.
Smiling at him through the bars, she filled a cup from a large bucket. "Would you like a drink? I'm sure that dry throat must be bothering you terribly."
Quatre ignored her.
"Come now." She shook her head sadly. "There's no point in pretending you don't understand me."
Gesturing to one of the men, she stood to one side while he unfastened the lock on the cage and then entered ahead of him. "Drink," she ordered, holding out the cup.
When Quatre continued to ignore her, she snapped her fingers and one of the men walked over and pulled him to his feet. "Lady Dorothy told you to drink."
"Be careful," Dorothy said. "We don't want to damage the merchandise."
Quatre shook off the man and reached out for the water. Sniffing it, he took a cautious sip. It tasted all right. Taking another sip, he decided that if he wanted to maintain his fluid levels, he really didn't have a choice. "Thank you," he said, returning the cup after he'd drained it.
She raised one eyebrow. "Your master has trained you well. I'm impressed."
"Master?" Quatre stared at her.
"Healer Barton," Dorothy explained, rolling her eyes. "Don't tell me you've forgotten him already."
"Trowa's not my master. He's my…" Quatre caught himself in time. It was safer for Trowa if she didn't learn of their relationship. "He's my friend. And," he continued, shaking the chain leading from his collar, "I am not a slave, nor am I merchandise."
"Your friend may have seen it fit to let you roam around freely but I do not. I'm sure he will realise his error in judgement when he finds you gone."
"He didn't let me roam around freely. We…You have no right to keep me here."
"What you are gives me that right." Dorothy sighed. "The chain is for your own safety, and to ensure the safety of your cubs."
"How dare you presume to take responsibility for…" Quatre took a step forward, his voice trailing off as he tried to control his anger. How did Dorothy know about his pregnancy? If she'd overheard their conversation in the garden, she would have also known he and Trowa were married.
"You should consider yourself fortunate that I have. Your kind is almost extinct; obviously you are not able to care of either yourselves or your offspring if left to your own devices."
"Your kind has hunted us to extinction." Quatre glared at her as she attempted to stroke his hair. "Keep your hands off me!"
"Quite the wild animal, aren't we?" Dorothy chucked. "I've already had my hands on you. How do you think I discovered you were with cub?" Quatre shuddered and pulled away, his stomach churning at the thought of what she must have done while he'd been unconscious. "It's almost a shame you aren't human." Her eyes glinted, then narrowed. "I suspect your mate is missing you terribly."
"My mate is none of your concern," Quatre told her, "and I will not allow either you or your men to harm my children."
"I have no intention of harming either you or your cubs." Dorothy shook her head. "You should be thankful that it was I who found you; your skin would fetch quite a high price on the black market."
"If you have no intention of harming me, let me go."
"I can't do that. You're an endangered magical species. If I let you go I'm dooming you to extinction. This way you and your cubs have a future to look forward to. My client is very keen to add you to his collection; he was very excited when I informed him of your condition. Captive breeding is one of Lord Tsuberov's special interests."
"Captive breeding?" Quatre didn't try to hide his disgust. "You can't sell me to a zoo; I'm not an animal!"
"Your opinion doesn't concern me." Dorothy sighed. "It's a shame I don't have your mate. But then, you grew careless, maybe he or she will too."
She signalled to the man still standing outside the cage. "The hour grows late and we have a fair distance to cover before first light." The man nodded and approached. In his hand were handcuffs and a thick strip of fabric.
"No," Quatre said, backing away. Strong hands caught him from behind, and he brought up one knee to kick his captor in the groin. Gripping the length of chain he stepped to the side of the man and wrapped it around his neck. "Let me go or I'll kill him," he threatened.
Reaching inside her pocket, Dorothy showed him a glass vial. "Be reasonable. I know your condition prevents you using your abilities and I have the only key to that lovely collar you're wearing. If you don't release him, I'll be forced to administer more of this nice sleeping potion."
Quatre tightened his grip on the chain and moved the man in front of him as a shield. "Stay away from me!" he growled.
"And I'd so hoped you were going to be co-operative," Dorothy waggled one finger at him. "You do understand that I can't risk you calling out and being discovered once we're under way. You can yell for help now if you wish, but no one will hear you, we're miles away from anyone. Go on," She smiled at him, "I'm sure you want to."
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." Quatre dropped the chain and released the man. Dorothy was right - he wouldn't be able to get past the confines of the cage, nor would he risk the lives of his children by exposing them to more of the sedative.
The man rubbed his neck for a moment and then, none too gently, forced Quatre's hands behind his back. "Be careful, Mueller," Dorothy chastised. "Lord Tsuberov will not be happy if there are any visible marks on his new purchase."
Bands of metal encircled his wrists with a click as the other man joined Mueller to assist in restraining him. "Alex, wait," Dorothy said. "I'd prefer the satisfaction of doing this myself." Retrieving the gag, she paused in front of Quatre and traced the line of his cheek with one perfectly manicured finger. "Exquisite," she purred, "simply exquisite."
She slipped the material between his teeth, secured it, and then gave him a pat on the head. Turning on her heels, she and the two men exited the cell, locking it behind them. Dorothy stood in the outer doorway momentarily, illuminated by the fading sunlight, and Quatre realised that he was in the back of a wagon. "Sleep well, my pet," she called. "You'll want to look your best for your new owner."
The door slammed behind her, leaving Quatre alone once more. The remaining light was deserting him and he shivered as the cold breeze whipped through his prison, whistling through his only link with the outside world. Dropping to his knees, he realised he was shaking.
Trowa, he thought. Where are you?
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