Author: pyrzm
Summary: 04+03, 03x04 Romance, angst, and other stuff.

Lost Souls + Chapter 25
Tipping Point

Cathy gave Trowa a worried look in the mirror as they put on their makeup for the afternoon show. "Trowa, what's wrong? You look terrible."

Trowa went on applying the white base to his forehead. Even without it, he was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there yesterday. "I guess I didn't sleep very well."

Cathy frowned. "It was that guy, right?"

Trowa said nothing. She knew already.

He'd had the vid phone dream again, for the second night in a row since the blond called Quatre had tried to talk to him. He hadn't seen him around the circus since, and he was torn between relief and disappointment.

In the dream last night he could see that face, and for the first time, he began to get some of the audio, too. He couldn't make out the words, but he could hear the tone of his voice and in the dream it warmed him inside in a way not even Cathy had been able to do since his return.

"You knew who he was. Was-was Quatre a friend of mine?" Trowa murmured to Cathy's reflection.

Her frown deepened. "I don't know who he is. I just know what he is, and that means nothing but pain for you. Forget him, Trowa. Just put him out of your mind. He's gone."

"Just like the other one. That guy with the braid."

"Yeah. Nothing but trouble."

Only it hadn't been the same, thought Trowa. The first boy had sparked a panic reaction. This Quatre hadn't, at least not until after he'd gone, and it hadn't been nearly as bad as the other. Trowa had thought a lot about both of them over the past few days, and was convinced that they had been friends. They must have been, the way they spoke to him. Why was Catherine so angry with them? Had they done something to him, something that had to do with his amnesia?

The manager came in smiling broadly. "We've got a great crowd out there! I hope you two are ready to give it your best."

"We sure are, aren't we, Trowa?"

Lost in thought, Trowa just shrugged and went on with his makeup.

It was an effort to concentrate. Trowa's mind kept wandering as he waited to go on. During his own act he stumbled and almost fell. That had never happened before outside of practice. He got through it, took his bows and went backstage again where Cathy and some of the other performers were waiting to go on.

"What happened?" Cathy whispered. "What's wrong with you today?"

"I don't know-" A distant rumbling sound stopped the words in his throat. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck and his legs went weak under him.

"What was that?" one of the horse act girls whispered.

"Sounded like thunder," her partner replied.

"There's no thunder in space," Trowa whispered, shaking as the sound came again, closer and louder now.

"Probably just construction somewhere else on the colony," Joli, the tightrope walker said nervously.

The show went on, but the sounds grew closer and louder. Trowa changed into his regular clothes, hands shaking so badly he had trouble zipping his pants. Cathy had just completed her finale and the crowd was cheering when a deafening roar shook the ground under them. Overhead the lights swung and the canvass shivered.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Please don't panic! Please leave in an orderly fashion so that no one gets hurt," the ringmaster urged, as the rumbling and roaring continued.

Trowa stood frozen in the wings, heart pounding so hard it hurt. He knew that sound from somewhere. It brought back all the fear and the terrible memory of coldness, of being alone and so afraid-"

"Hey, look out!" Cathy screamed.

Too late he looked up to see a heavy spot light falling. Cathy dove at him, knocking him out of the way before it crushed them both. He curled into a ball, shuddering as the terrible noises continued, almost drowning out with the shouting and the panicked cries of the animals.

Cathy held him. "Are you all right?"

Ashamed but too terrified to move, he clung to her. Suddenly he wasn't looking at the shadowed tent, but blackness so deep and so empty that it threatened to pull the soul from his body. "I'm cold! And I scared!" he whimpered. "Something's coming!"

She held him tighter. "It's all right. I'm with you. I won't leave you. Poor Trowa!"

"Thanks," he mumbled looking up. He could see her, see the love in her eyes, the desire to protect him. He could see it, but he couldn't feel anything except the terrible chill.

And then Quatre was there. He ran in through the confusion and found him there, huddled in Cathy's arms. "Trowa! It's dangerous here. You've got to get to shelter."

"What's going on?" Cathy demanded.

"It's a battle, OZ and White Fang." Another huge explosion shook the ground and Trowa flinched. "Mobile suits are exchanging fire right near the colony."

Mobile suits. Trowa stiffened, hardly able to breath. Mobile suits. He remembered those-

"By why?" Cathy said angrily, tightening her arms around Trowa as if she thought Quatre was going to drag him away. "We're just trying to live out our lives here in peace. How many people have to be sacrificed before this ends?" Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clung to him. "I don't want to lose anyone else. I couldn't stand it!"

The sound of her soft sobs broke through his own fear. Cathy was afraid! Cathy was sad. He freed himself and rose up to face her, wiping away her tears. "There's no need to cry, Cathy. I promise to protect you myself."

"I don't want to lose anyone else, either," said Quatre, looking down at him with a sad smile. "You saved me once, Trowa. You saved my very soul. Now it's my turn save people. That's what the Gundam was built for in the first place."

Gundam? Something stirred in Trowa's memory. He knew what those were. Everyone did. His hands twitched, curving into loose fists, feeling for-what? Before he could figure it out, Quatre gave him a parting smile filled with such emotion that he thought his heart would break, then turned and ran from the tent.

Trowa stared after him, confused. Was it possible that that gentle, fragile looking boy with the soulful eyes was a Gundam pilot? The battle sounds raged around them now and Cathy was watching him with fearful eyes. He didn't have time to figure this out now.

"I've got to get you to a safe shelter," he said, pulling her to her feet. "Come one, there's an underground garage very close to here. You'll be safe there."

Before she could protest, he pulled her along, making his way thorugh the fallen debris and the panicked crowds. And as he ran, he felt his own fear falling away, replaced by a growing sense of purpose.

They reached the garage and he urged her down to the lower level, where hundreds of other people had already taken shelter. There were police here, keeping order. It was a good place, some long forgotten instinct told him. And he felt something else, too. It was like he could hear the little blonde's voice in his head, the way he had in his dream. He couldn't make out any words, but he felt the sorrow and the bravery in him. The sorrow was deeper than anything Trowa had ever felt, and the need. It drew him away from Cathy, to the exit.

"Trowa, where are you going?" she cried, running after him.

"He's calling me," Trowa said, not really understanding it himself, but knowing that somehow, he had to answer.

"I don't hear anybody."

"He's crying," Trowa murmured in wonder, feeling pain that wasn't his own deep in his heart. "I can tell, from here!" Whoever Quatre was, Trowa couldn't let him go this time without understanding the connection between them.

Cathy tried to stop him, but he gently pulled free and kissed her cheek. "I'll come back. I promise. But I have to do this. I have to help."

"You can't!" Cathy sobbed. "You went through so much pain the last time. Are you really planning to fight again?"

So it was true. Trowa smiled a little as the answer came to him without any effort at all. "I have a faint memory of someone once telling me-" Blue eyes; he remembered a pair of dark blue eyes. "Telling me that the only way for anyone to live a good life is to act on their emotions."

Cathy sagged a little. "You're going to go. You're so stubborn! That side of you hasn't changed a bit. You're nuts!"

"I promise you, I'll come back alive, Cathy." Her tears tugged at him as he turned away, but his heart was telling him to go.


The Sweepers had been partly right, he thought as he ran for the space dock. He had been pilot, but not an OZ pilot. And if Quatre was a Gundam pilot, and maybe that boy with the braid as well, then did that mean that he had been one, too?

The space dock was in chaos. It worked in his favor as he ran to an armed shuttle and found it unattended. His fingers flew over the controls and he didn't let himself question it, any more than he had that day when he picked up the micro spanner on the Sweeper ship. His mind might not remember, but his body and his instincts did. The transport lifted off smoothly and the airlock opened for his beacon without challenge.

The battle was still raging outside. Mobile dolls were battling a motley crew of White Fang irregulars, but there was another presence among, a massive white, gold and green suit armed with huge guns and two heat scythes. It danced and darted against the black backdrop of space, cleaving the mobile dolls in two and shooting them to bits. Trowa watched in awe, noting how careful the pilot was to angle his attacks away from the hull of the colony. It was not unscathed, though. There were blast marks all over it. The Gundam might withstand such punishment, but somehow Trowa knew that the human pilot could still be hurt. He flew as fast as he could to join him, but Quatre had finished the last of the enemy dolls by the time he got there.

The hailing signal went off, then Quatre appeared on his monitor. He was smiling, but his eyes were wide and full of tears. "Trowa!"

Trowa felt that otherness inside him again, felt the boy's love and fear and sadness. "I think we must have a lot to talk about," Trowa replied. No matter what, he would find out what they'd been to each other and try to remember.

Quatre led him to a larger transport ship and maneuvered his Gundam into the open bay on its back.

Trowa found a pressure suit and put it on, preparing to transfer. As he reached for the airlock button, however, a wave of fresh panic hit him. He crouched there by the panel, filled with fear. It was cold and dark out there. He'd been lost in that blackness for who knew how long. Now he was going to risk it again.

Only his determination to get to Quatre gave him the strength to get through the airlock and propel himself across to the other ship.

It steadied him at once, finding Quatre waiting there for him. A tall, black haired woman was with him, and introduced herself as Lucretzia Noin. He could tell at once that she'd known him, too, and she seemed as happy as Quatre was to see him.

"Welcome back, Trowa Barton. I'm glad you're back, even if you don't remember our time in Antarctica."

Trowa felt another vague stir of memory. Something had happened there, too, but what?

"We were sorry to hear about the-accident. You really have no memory at all?" she asked.

"Accident?" Trowa glanced at Quatre, but the other boy looked away, saying nothing.

Trowa wanted nothing more than to get Quatre to himself in a cabin and find out his past, but just then a man's voice came over the airlock com channel.

"Lieutenant Noin, we have an incoming transmission I think you should see."

Trowa and Quatre followed her to the bridge, and watched together as the famous Sanque princess and diplomat, Relena Peacecraft, made a statement. She was dressed in a formal gown and wore a small crown on her head.

"Quiet, everyone," ordered Noin. "The speech is starting."

"What's going on?" asked Quatre.

"You're friend is working for Romefeller now, one of the bridge officers said, shaking his head in disgust.

"No, That can't be. Shut up and listen to what she has to say," said Noin.

"I ask that you all discard your weapons and stop fighting" Relena looked very serious and determined as she gazed into the camera. "I am sure we are all hoping for the same future. So together let us all advance toward these objectives. I am announcing the elimination of all national borders. These have been the cause of wars around the world. I declare there is one nation; the World Nation."

She was speaking from some large ornate state chamber, and the assembly rose as one to applaud her announcement.

"Look, there's Dorothy Catalonia," said Quatre, pointing to a girl with very long pale blond hair in the front of the crowd by the podium. Trowa searched her face, but was certain he didn't know her. Yet something about that hair, so long and thick and pale-Another shiver of cold crept over him and he pushed the thought away. Another official was announcing that Relena now held the title of Queen.

"She's the granddaughter of Duke Dermail. She was with Relena in Sanque when Heero and Quatre and I were there. I think she's been trying to influence Relena all along. Maybe this was her plan."

"No, Relena must know what she'd doing. What choice did she have, if she was going to preserve her ideals and stop the fighting?" said Quatre.

"I don't think this will stop Kanz and White Fang, though," said Trowa, who'd heard rumors on every colony as the circus moved around. "They distrust Earth too much."

"I'm afraid you're probably right," said Quatre. "Well, there's nothing we can do right now. Noin, I'm going to show Trowa around the ship. Hail me if you need me."

He led Trowa back to the bay and let him climb into the cockpit, and settled beside him in the close confines there. "Do you remember anything at all, Trowa?"

Trowa's hands closed knowingly around the joy sticks, and his feet found the foot pedals. "Not exactly." But his heart beat a little faster, sitting here. It was familiar, but it wasn't. "I-I was a Gundam pilot, wasn't I?"

"You are. Your suit is called Heavyarms. You trained on L-3."

"Did I meet you there?"

He felt another wave of sadness as Quatre shook his head. "No, we met on Earth, in Arabia, after a battle. There are five of us, and we all came to Earth separately. You and I had never met before, but when we did-Well, you came home with me and we hid out together for a while. We played music and-You really don't remember? Not even a little?" He was blushing now, and Trowa felt a spike of something that wasn't fear. No, it was something much sweeter.

"I wish I did," Trowa said.

Quatre climbed out. "Well, maybe you will, right?" He spoke lightly but Trowa saw how his cheeks were flushed and that sadness was still strong in him. It made Trowa want to hold him until it went away, but he didn't know if Quatre would want that.

Quatre showed him around the rest of the large ship. There were more mobile suits, not Gundams but Taurus and Aries stolen from various battlefields. Trowa sat in one, knowing he could fly any of these, too. That was very comforting.

They ate supper with the crew and Trowa was aware of curious looks from the others on him through the whole meal. Escaping as soon as he could, he followed Quatre to his room, where he kept his computer.

Quatre pulled up files on the other pilots and showed him pictures as Trowa sat in a chair beside him. There was the other boy who'd come to the circus, Duo Maxwell. He was grinning in the picture and Quatre smile wistfully, looking at it. "He's a good friend, but-well, the war has changed a lot of things. I miss him." Blinking, he pulled up two other pictures: Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei. The Chinese boy rang no bells with Trowa, but something about Yuy's eyes seemed familiar. "I know him, too, don't I?"

"He's your friend, Trowa. They both are. You saved Heero's life, when he was terribly wounded after a self-detonation. You two were together for months on Earth, before you came back to space."

Trowa could only nod. He felt nothing but curiosity and frustration, looking at the picture, and that made him sad. "So, what did happen to me, anyway? Miss Noin said there was an accident?"

Quatre shut the computer down and folded his hands. "She was just trying to spare my feelings, I'm afraid. It was no accident, Trowa. It was me. I attacked you, hurt you. I didn't mean to-but, that doesn't excuse it."

Trowa searched his heart for some sign of anger, but there was nothing. Instead, he wished he knew some way to take the sadness from those blue eyes. "Tell me what happened, please."

So Quatre did, and it took a long time. By the time he finished trying to explain the effect the Zero system had on him, he was crying softly. "Heero-he tried-tried to stop me. But it was you, your voice, Trowa that pulled me back from the brink. But then, it was too late! I'd already destroyed your suit and it was-was going to blow and you, you just blasted away. We saw the explosion and I thought-I thought-" He pressed his face into his hands, shoulders shaking. "I was so sure I'd killed you! Heero wanted to kill me for what I'd done, and I didn't care. I'm so sorry, Trowa! So, so damn sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I don't deserve it, but-"

Trowa's mind might have no memory, but his body did. // Follow your emotions. // He reached out and gently touched Quatre's cheek, brushing away the tears as he had with Cathy. He felt the flutter of Quatre's startled gasp, and the way he leaned into Trowa's touch. He was warm, so warm. Like the sun. And golden too, like sunlight, or-" He struggled to remember, but there was something just out of reach. Giving up, he followed his heart and gathered the sobbing boy in his arms, holding him close and stroking his hair. "It's all right, Quatre. I know someone like you couldn't hurt me on purpose. It was the Zero system and you fought it. If I spoke to you like that afterwards, then I knew it then, and I forgave you then. Please, don't cry. It's all right. I'm all right, and I'm here with you again."

Quatre threw his arms around Trowa and held on, clinging to him desperately as he wept himself out. At last he sat back and wiped his face on the sleeve of his pink shirt. "I'm sorry. You're the one who was hurt, but I've just missed you so much! But you're back, right? Everything will be all right now. But you must be exhausted. The cabin next door is empty. You should get some sleep."

Trowa was tired, bone weary in fact, but he felt quite reluctant to leave. As he stretched out on the narrow bed he'd been given, he flung an arm across his eyes and tried to summon some memory. // Anything! There's more to all this than Quatre is telling me, more between the two of us. //

Just as he was dozing off, on the edge of a dream, he suddenly seemed to feel lips against his own. Quatre's lips. He knew exactly what they would feel like, pressed to his, what they'd taste like, how he'd respond, as surely as he'd known the feeling of the Gundam controls the moment he'd touched them. And just as surely as he recognized his body's strong response to the thought of kissing him.

"We were lovers!" he whispered aloud. No wonder Quatre had been so sad when he didn't remember him! He'd been heartbroken.

Even without his memory, Trowa knew he was no stranger to sex, and that he was gay. He'd had a few flings with some of the men in the circus, nothing serious or involving any attachment, but it had been pleasurable and he'd been good at it. // Oh god, // he thought, overcome with remorse. // I cheated on him and didn't even know it! And now he's alone in there, thinking that whatever we had didn't mean anything. I come back from the dead and don't even know him. // At least he'd never kissed any of the others. Something had held him back and now he realized it had been his feelings for Quatre.

No wonder he'd felt such pain from him. Even now, he got another flash of it, just like he'd felt when he was with Cathy in that shelter. Quatre was crying again.

Trowa rolled out of bed and hastily tugged on his pants, then went next door and knocked softly. "Quatre, it's me. Can I come in?"

There was a long pause, then he heard a rustle and the door inched open. The room was dark, but the light from the corridor showed him that Quatre's face was flushed and damp, and his eyes were red. Without a word, Trowa gently pushed him back into the room, closed the door, and took him in his arms. It was too dark to see, but he could feel the way Quatre melted against him. This felt right, more right than anything had since the Sweepers had pulled him from space.

"I'm so sorry, Quatre. I think I remembered a little. I love you, don't I?"

A startled gasp was his only answer. Trowa found his lips and kissed him, and it was just as he'd imagined, good and familiar and right. Quatre wrapped himself around him, burying his hands in Trowa's hair. His body was warm and eager against Trowa's and he could feel the hard length of an erection against his thigh.

Trowa needed no memory for this. This was a language his body spoke fluently. He let his hands roam, relearning the contours of Quatre's body, the play of skin and muscle, the firm round swell of his ass. Quatre shivered and moaned into his mouth, seeking his tongue with his own. He was dressed in some sort of pajamas. Trowa pulled the top over his head, then thrust his hands down the back of the loose pants, relishing the silky skin there. "Oh god, Quatre, you're so beautiful! I remember you. My body remembers you. I love you!"

"I know. I feel it now. And I love you, too," Quatre whispered, tense and trembling in his arms.


Quatre didn't know what to do. It was clear that Trowa still did not remember how things had been between them, but the feeling of love was so clear that Quatre knew better than to doubt it. Trowa had guarded his feelings before, the few times they'd been together, but when they'd kissed Quatre had been given glimpses of this emotion. Now it was raw and naked, as naked has he was now that Trowa had found the drawstring of his pajama pants and pulled it loose. The pants fell away, leaving him bare and pressed to Trowa. He was still wearing his jeans, but his chest was bare and Quatre pressed him cheek to it, amazed at the connection between them. Trowa loved him, but more than that, he desired him, wanted to have sex with him, right here and now.

Quatre thought of that last night they'd spent together before the New Edwards raid. Trowa had been so shy with him then, trying so hard to hide his feelings, as if he didn't think they were right. He'd gotten up in the middle of the night and left, to escape those feelings.

// To protect me, // Quatre thought. He'd known it, even then.

But something had changed and now Trowa was hungry for him, holding nothing back. He sensed that Trowa somehow believed that they'd really been lovers, rather than friends who messed around, as Duo put it.

//I should tell him,// Quatre thought, even as Trowa kissed him dizzy. // I should stop him until we've had a chance to talk more. //

But he didn't want to. The memory of his own hurt the night Trowa had fled kept him quiet now as Trowa kissed him and caressed his bottom with those big, warm hands. They were roughened from his circus work, and the feeling of them made the hair on Quatre's neck stand up. It made his cock stand up, too, and those hands soon found it. He wished he could see Trowa's face, but he didn't need to, to feel the mix of love and lust boiling through his veins.

"I love you," Trowa whispered again, stroking a hand up and down Quatre's erection.

It felt so good he thought he might faint. "I love you too, Trowa. I missed you so much."

"Want you!"

That meant sex. Quatre desperately tried to recall all that Duo had told him. Did Trowa want to "do him"? And if so, did it really mean what Duo had said? Quatre was caught in a torrent of arousal and fear. He wanted to ask Trowa what they were going to do, but he was afraid if he did, Trowa would guess the truth and stop. Did he want him to? No, definitely not! "I want you, too!" he whispered back. Suddenly he thought of Noin, rooming right next door. What would she think if she heard something? "We have to take it easy, Trowa, and be quiet."

Trowa licked teasingly down his throat. "Copy that. Stealth mode." Quatre felt him slide down his body, then a warm, wet mouth engulfed his erection. He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting, it felt so good. Strong hands cupped his buttocks, holding him up and rocking his hips as Trowa's lips and tongue drove him wild with pleasure. A blow job. This was a blow job and it was Trowa giving it to him. And he was so good at it! Burying his hands in that thick unruly hair again, Quatre wondered if he'd had other lovers.

That was a mistake. Perhaps it was the intense emotion, or the fact that they were touching each other so intimately, but suddenly he was deluged with faces. It was a blur, mostly, but he had no doubt that he was seeing all the men Trowa had ever been intimate with, and there must have been hundreds! Shocked and dismayed at his own intrusion, he pushed away from Trowa and stumbled backward, tumbling heavily onto the bed. He'd recognized one face and was too shocked for a moment to even fathom how he felt.

Zechs Merquise?

"Quatre, what's wrong?" Trowa asked anxiously. "Did I hurt you? Turn on the light, please!"

Quatre pulled a sheet around himself, then found the switch. Trowa was kneeling in the center of the room with his jeans undone. A huge erection, much larger than Quatre's, jutted up from the open fly, the tip beaded with clear liquid.

Cum, Duo's voice whispered from the past.

"Did you---ah, come?" he gasped without thinking.

Trowa gave him a worried grin. "No. What's wrong?" He faltered to a halt, taking in how Quatre had covered himself. "I got it wrong, didn't I? We weren't--You didn't want--Oh no!"

He looked so devastated that Quatre immediately drew him up on the bed and put his arms around him. "No, you didn't get it wrong. Not at all. I just--we just-" He wanted so badly to lie, so that Trowa would keep doing what he'd been doing, but he couldn't. "We never got this far, but I wanted to! I really did, and I do now."

A look of terrible confusion came over Trowa's face. "But I thought I remembered--I do love you. I'm sure of it!"

"Yes, you do. But we've never-- made love. You always held back, and I--I didn't know --" He trailed off, embarassed. He was also thinking of all those other men. Had Trowa been in love with them? Somehow, he didn't feel that, but he knew that Trowa was very experienced and liked sex a lot.

// Zechs Merquise!? //

He shook his head, wondering how that could have happened, unless it had something to do with Trowa working under cover, as Duo had told him. He wondered if he should feel jealous, but his body had other ideas.

"We never had the time to do very much," he said. "But we do now. Could we--could you show me what you like? I really liked what you were doing to me--with your mouth." His cheeks felt like they were on fire, but it wasn't just embarrassment and it wasn't anything to do with shame. He wanted Trowa! He'd wanted him since the day they'd met. This might be wrong and sinful, but he couldn't stop.

To his relief, Trowa nodded and reached for the light, but Quatre stayed his hand. "No, I want to see you."

Trowa kissed him again, those green eyes soft with passion, and then pulled at the sheet tangled around Quatre's waist. "I want to see you, too. You're so beautiful. Most beautiful boy I've ever seen."

Quatre laughed uneasily as he let him pull the sheet away. "Are you sure? You might just not remember."

Trowa kissed him again, and pressed him down on the bed. "My heart knows. I don't think I've ever loved anyone before, not like this. I--I've been trying to remember you, Quatre. I missed you so much!"

"But now that you know what I did to you?"

Trowa kissed him, then scattered more kisses down his chest, pausing to circle Quatre's nipples with his tongue. "Doesn't matter. Not your fault. Just want to stay with you now."

Quatre arched under him, fighting not to cry out again as that mouth worked its teasing way back to his aching cock. "Oh Trowa!"

He came almost at once, biting his lip to stay quiet as he jerked and bucked against that mouth. Trowa held him firmly, working with his mouth and tongue to wring ever-increasing levels of pleasure from his body. Quatre had only had one real orgasm before, not counting wet dreams, and that had been by accident with Duo. This time it was different. He was ready and it felt so right. It was good. It was perfect, and when it was over Trowa held him until he stopped sighing and shaking and kissed him again and again, sharing the strange salty flavor of his own fluids with him.

As he came down from the incredible high, Quatre could feel Trowa's need, both empathically, and from the way that huge erection was digging into his thigh. "I want to make you feel good, too. Tell me what you want."

He got a sudden flash from Trowa. In it, Trowa was lying between his legs, putting his penis inside him. Doing him. Oh, god, Duo hadn't been joking, after all! "Trowa, I never--we never--"

Trowa kissed him to silence. "I'll never do anything you don't want. I'd never hurt you, meli."

"Meli! Trowa, you called me meli!" Quatre looked up at him in wonder. "That's what you always called me, before. It means--"

"Honey," Trowa finished, shaking his head in surprise. "Yeah, I remember that. I knew there was something--" He caught his breath as Quatre's hand closed around that long curved shaft. "Oh, meli, yes! Touch me. That's all--all I need. Just your touch!"

"Shh!" Quatre warned. "Our friends next door will come bursting in here, thinking I'm being attacked!"

Trowa clamped his mouth shut and fell back against the pillows as Quatre continued to stroke him. Feeling bolder and still glowing from his orgasm, Quatre sat up and used both hands, cupping Trowa's balls to see what they felt like. They were bigger than his, too. He looked like a child compared to Trowa, but the other boy didn't seem to mind that. He was moaning softly and thrusting up into his hands and murmuring, "So beautiful, mi amori. Dolchi mio! Yes, yes, like that! Oh, meli, honey, sweet, sweet, beautiful-" Then he was coming hard, choking back a cry as his hips pistoned up under Quatre's hands and thick white fluid shot up from the tip of his cock in three or four long bursts, getting all over him and Quatre and the sheets. He remained arched back, looking almost like he was in pain, then he collapsed and pulled Quatre down on top of him, panting against his neck and rubbing his still hard cock against Quatre's spent one. "So beautiful! So good!"

"Really?" Quatre murmured, tired and pleased. "I'm so glad, Trowa. I never thought we'd really be together like this, but I wanted to. I wanted you so much."

"You have me, meli!"

They dozed a little, then woke each other more aroused than ever. Trowa showed him something called sixty-nine, and they held each other close and sucked each other's erections until they came again. It wasn't easy to do, even though Quatre was very willing. But Trowa really was huge, and he kept gagging when that big swollen head hit the back of his throat. Trowa just chuckled and pulled back a little, controlling his thrusts so that Quatre could concentrate on sucking the head. He knew this must be very wicked, but he didn't care. He liked this, the way Trowa felt and tasted, and the way his body responded, and he kept at it until Trowa came in his mouth. It was a bit of a shock. Trowa had a musky, bitter taste, but Quatre remembered what he'd done for him and gamely swallowed it down, trying to ignore how his stomach rebelled as he kept licking him clean.

"Oh, Quatre!" he whispered, still shuddering as he rubbed his face on Quatre's thighs like a big, happy cat. "Oh, sweet, sweet honey---So good!"

Quatre stroked his hip and thigh, rather proud of himself. "I liked it, too. You're so-I just-" Words failed him, but he'd never felt quite this happy, ever.

Trowa recovered very quickly, did something with his tongue and throat then that made Quatre come so hard he saw stars. They fell asleep still holding each other like that, and woke a little while later and did it all over again.

Really spent this time, Quatre glanced at his watch on the bedside table, then crawled up to collapse in Trowa's arms. "We probably shouldn't let anyone find us like this."

Trowa opened one green eye. "Why not?"

Quatre sighed. "My family, and the men who fight for me? They wouldn't understand. What we did just now isn't allowed where I'm from."

"But you did it anyway."

"I wanted to. I want to be with you like that, Trowa, no matter what anyone says. But I don't want to hurt them, either. Is it awful of me to want to keep this quiet for now?"

Trowa shrugged and sat up. "Up to you. I'll go back to my room, and I won't say anything." Those green eyes, so warm and open before, seemed like closed windows now, and Quatre sensed a deep hurt in him. He caught him before he could get out of bed and held him, pressing himself to Trowa's bare back. "I'm not ashamed of what we just did! I swear to you, I'm not."

Trowa went still, but didn't relax or look at him. "I don't understand. I love you. You love me. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?"

"It shouldn't but it does," Quatre said sadly. "The Maguanacs have fought hard for me, risked their lives, and saved mine. They follow me because they respect me. If they knew that I--that I'm gay, then they wouldn't. I'd lose their respect and their support. I care about them, Trowa. Maybe later, when things are different, I can explain it to them, but I don't want them to find out like this, in the middle of a war. But that doesn't change the way I feel about you!"

Trowa gently pried Quatre's arms from his waist and stood to retrieve his discarded jeans. Even worried by the sudden change in mood, Quatre drank in the sight of him. Trowa was so beautiful, lean and lanky, with a few scars scattered over his smooth skin. He pulled on the tight jeans, still not looking back at Quatre, and said quietly, "Perhaps I'll understand better, when my memory comes back. If it does. Good night, Quatre. I really enjoyed that, and I do love you."

"I love you, Trowa." But Quatre's heart hurt as he watched Trowa slink out like a thief and close the door silently behind him. And he hadn't kissed him good-bye, either. Duo always had--Well, he always had in Arabia. He hadn't the other day. He'd been strangely distant, his smile the old fake one, not the genuine one he'd shown him in the desert. Quatre lay down and curled miserably around the pillow, wishing it was Trowa. This night shouldn't have ended like this. It was his own fault, as usual. He'd hurt Trowa's feelings and sent him away, after he'd been so good to him.

He lay there for some time. His heart was beating too hard to let him sleep and his stomach felt bad, not from what he'd done with Trowa, but from guilt. At last he pulled on his pajamas and went to Trowa's door, only to find it locked.

He tapped softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else. "Trowa, open up. It's me." There was no answer. He knocked again, a little louder. "Trowa? Please, I'm sorry. Let me in."

Only silence from the other side of the door, and there was nothing to do but go back to his lonely bed with his guilt.


Trowa had stopped at his room just long enough to grab a shirt. Then he'd gone straight to the suit bay and climbed into Sandrock's cockpit, closing the hatch.

There, shut in the comforting confines, with Quatre's scent lingering all around him, he gave in to confusion. Quatre had wanted him, loved him, and then sent him away? He felt angry and used. He'd kissed him, for fuck's sake! Quatre obviously cared more about what his friends thought than he did about Trowa!

But that thought just wouldn't stick, angry as he was. It felt wrong, even through the hurt.

A little while later he sensed that Quatre was crying again, but had no idea what to do about it. Was this part of why Catherine had been so angry when Quatre showed up? He clenched his fists against his temples, willing his memory to come back! But all he seemed to grasp was the love he felt for the confusing boy, and how right it had felt to say it out loud, and to touch him and be touched by him. His body ached wonderfully from all they'd done. All he'd wanted afterwards was to fall asleep holding him! His eyes smarted and he wiped at them angrily. Was this how sex had always been for him? Somewhere deep inside, he thought maybe it had been. But he'd believed Quatre when he said he loved him! Had that been a lie?

His mind went round and round, and he only ended up making himself more miserable. He was so distracted he was caught completely off guard when the hatch hissed open and Quatre climbed down to join him. He looked every bit as unhappy as Trowa. He was dressed now, but he still smelled like fucking. Without a word he curled up in Trowa's lap and pulled his arms around him.

"What are you doing here?" Trowa growled, not ready to forgive him just yet, though he was incredibly glad to see him. "How did you find me?"

"I felt you," Quatre mumbled, pressing his face to Trowa's chest. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!"

"I can't be with you if you're ashamed of me."

"I'm not! It's not you. You don't understand, Trowa. You don't remember what it was like, where I'm from. I don't think you ever had any trouble where you're from, but it's different on L-4. They're very religious and old fashioned. I-it's not easy, admitting that I'm--what I feel for you. But I can't deny it and I'm not ashamed of that! I love you and that can't be evil or wicked, can it?"

"It's not." Trowa relented a little and held him. He was so warm, and smelled like sex and spice. "Even if I never get my memory back, I know what I feel for you is real."

"Then give me some time to figure this out, please? I really do want to."

Trowa sighed, unable to resist pressing his cheek to that silky blond hair. It was so cool and soft, so good against his skin. He couldn't imagine not ever feeling it again. "I'll try. But I don't understand. Will you stay here with me now?"

Quatre nodded. "It was just being in bed like that with you, with people right next door. I guess I panicked."

There was something in Quatre's tone that made him frown and tighten his arms around him. What kind of friends would turn their backs on someone like Quatre, just for falling in love? Perhaps if his memory came back, he would understand how someone as brave as Quatre could be so afraid of that.

[ch. 24] [ch. 26] [back to Pyrzm's fic]