((WARNING! This story contains SHOUNEN AI! If you don't know what that means, you probably shouldn't be reading this story. I don't own any of the characters in this fic. The song is "Winter" by Tori Amos. The words have very little to do with the story, but the mood of the song is perfect for the mood of the story, and no other song fit quite like this one did- if you donít believe me, find the song somewhere and listen to it.))


L'Ailes d'Hiver

††††††††††††††††† By Deathswings††


Quatre came in with a tray of food, only to find that his guest was asleep. He stole a moment to look down speculatively at Heero. Heero looked so young, so innocent when he was asleep. He looked like the boy he was instead of the killing machine he had been forced to become. Not for the first time, Quatre boiled with anger against a world where such innocence could so easily be lost. Sighing, he left the food by the laptop computer where the Perfect Soldier would be sure to find it when he awoke. Quatre then snuck out and closed the door quietly.
On the other side of the door, Quatre sighed again. Heero must have been exhausted for him not to have woken up at Quatre's footsteps. Heero had arrived two nights ago, looking like the devil himself was chasing him. He'd wanted to know where Duo was, but Quatre hadn't seen him in several months. Quatre had insisted that Heero accept his hospitality for at least a few nights, while Quatre used his money and influence to track Duo down. But Duo was being notoriously difficult to find. Quatre originally hadn't wanted to help Heero find the boy he had hurt so much, but Quatre had seen the look in Heero's eyes, felt the sadness in his own heart. Despite his actions, Heero loved the braided boy, and Quatre was happy to do whatever he could to bring the two of them back together again

Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens.
Wipe my nose, put my new boots on.
I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter.
I put my hand in my father's arm.


Quatre stood in front of one of the huge windows, watching the sand blow across the dunes. He'd been brought up to not take his wealth for granted- that money couldn't buy happiness, and he supposed that was true. But whoever said it had an incredibly narrow, pessimistic view of the world. They either weren't rich, and never had been, or they weren't kind, and never would be. Money could buy happiness. His money could buy Duo and Heero's happiness, and helping them would make him happy himself. Quatre was already amazed that Heero had even come to him at all. A year ago, Heero wouldn't have even thought of such a thing, much less actually *done* it. A year ago, Heero would not have even looked for Duo. But this was now, not a year ago. Heero had changed.
At first, Quatre had been furious at Heero for doing what he had done to Duo, especially when Duo had been about to give himself over to Heero so utterly. But over the past few months, Quatre had become aware that something had gone terribly wrong. It wasn't Heero's fault- at least, not entirely. He'd tried to convince Duo of this, but he couldn't prove it more than a vague feeling, and when it had become public knowledge that Heero had been seen around Relena-sama... well, there hadn't been any going back. Quatre had never seen Duo so upset in his life. He hadn't smiled for months, and when he finally did, it was a sad, self-deprecating affair that never reached his eyes. Quatre had hated Heero in those moments almost enough to kill him. He wished there was something to do to ease Duo's pain, but nothing seemed to work. He never realized how much he liked Duo's chatter until it was gone. Now maybe his money could buy back that glorious laughter, and those beautiful smiles. And if money could do that, maybe it was worth it after all.

I run off where the drifts get deeper.
Sleeping beauty, that trips me with a frown.
I hear a voice, "You must learn to stand up
For yourself, cause I can't always be around".


Quatre heard a noise behind him, and turned to find Heero there, staring at the sunrise. They both stood there a moment in an almost companionable silence, something very close to contentment hanging in the air. A tenuous moment at best, but Quatre smiled at the feel of it. Heero let the bottom of the sun almost clear the dunes before he spoke.
"Any word yet on Duo?"
"No. But it hasn't been very long. Be patient."
"I had hoped he would be easy to find."
"You know better than any of us that none of us would be easy to find if we didn't want to be found. We could drop off the face of the planet and no one would ever know the difference. But if we did..."
"Then innocent people would die," Heero finished simply. Then, much to Quatre's surprise, he added, "I wish this war was over. I don't know what I'll do if it ever is, but I wish it was, all the same." Quatre looked sharply over at him, shocked. That didn't sound like the Heero he knew at all. But Heero was just staring out into the distance, as stone-faced as ever. Quatre sighed, biting back tears that didn't quite reach his voice,
"I wish the war was over too..."

He says, "When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?
When you gonna make up your mind?
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed."
I tell you that I'll always want you near.
You say that things change my dear.

7 months earlier
"Quatre... I... we need to talk."
Quatre looked up, irritated that his delicate work had been interrupted, but his face brightened as he saw who was standing in his door,
"Trowa! Come on in. Have a seat."
"Am I... interrupting you?"
"No, not at all," actually, he was, and if it had been anyone else, he would have been quite angry with them. As it was, how could he not be happy to see his best friend... and secret love. Yes, secret. He had not been telling the whole truth when he had spoke to Duo a month or so ago. The pair *did* have a relationship, but only in Quatre's head at the moment and he was almost sure that that particular sentiment was not echoed in Trowa's mind.
It was then that he noticed that something about Trowa was odd. He could quite place what is was, but Trowa looked... different somehow. Unsure of himself, maybe? Vulnerable? Without even sparing a thought for how it might sound, or his personal feelings, he beckoned Trowa over to the sofa. Trowa came almost instantly, sitting right next to Quatre on the sofa, and, much to Quatre's amazement, pulled him into a tight embrace. *hedoesntmeanitlikethat
hedoesntmeanitlikethathedoesntmeanitlikethat* Trowa's voice cut through the noise in his head.
"I... don't know what to do Quatre..."
"What do you mean?"
"We're soldiers. We aren't allowed to have any weaknesses. And I don't know what to do."
"I don't... understand..."
"You... I could handle it if someone caught me. I know how to withstand all kinds of torture, physical and mental. But if anyone ever caught you... I wouldn't last a second." Unseen, Quatre's eyes widened. Had Trowa just said...?
"Why? Why am I such a weakness, Trowa? Why?" Trowa's hand caught him by the chin and lifted his head up, then fitted to the side of his face with a gentleness that Quatre had only ever seen the pilot use on wounded animals. Then, so softly that Quatre couldn't help but wonder if he'd imagined it, Trowa brushed his lips against his. Quatre blinked like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of how to react to this sudden, unexpected, and so longed for gesture.
"Trowa...? Trowa..." Trowa turned his face away, standing up,
"I'm sorry... I'll go now..." he'd almost reached the door by the time Quatre gathered his wits.
"Wait!" Trowa froze, but didn't turn around. Quatre stood and closed the distance between them by a few hesitant feet, "Why didn't you ever just ask, Trowa?" he said softly, voice thick with happy tears.
"Wh- What?" Trowa turned around, shock written all over both his face and body.
"I said, why didn't you ever just ask?" each word became a step closer to the taller boy, until he was standing right in front of him, bodies just barely touching. Then, very carefully, he stood up on his tip-toes and pressed his mouth against Trowa's. Trowa's lips melted against his and he found himself drawn in close against Trowa's chest.

Boys get discovered as winter melts.
Flowers competing for the sun.
Years go by, and I'm still here waiting,
Withering where some snowman was.


A moment later, Trowa pulled back and just gazed down at him, a dazed look on his face,
"Quatre... you mean you..." Quatre silenced him by laying a finger across his lips,
"If that's some sort of rejection, some statement that I misread your intentions, then I don't want to hear it just yet. Give me a moment to stay in paradise."
"D'accord." Quatre blinked. Trowa had slipped into his native language. He only did that when he was seriously nervous or upset. So was he nervous now, or upset? He'd meant to kiss him again after his last comment, but he found that his brief introspection had caused the moment to linger into awkwardness. And now he found himself caught in Trowa's grey eyes, unable to look away. Then, very deliberately, his eyes never leaving Quatre's, Trowa parted his lips and flicked his tongue against the finger that had remained on his mouth.
Quatre's eyes widened and he gasped, too shocked to be aroused by this obviously erotic motion. Trowa... Trowa was... Trowa opened his mouth wider and then closed it around the tip of Quatre's finger, sucking on it ever so gently, his tongue teasing the pad of the fingertip. He slowly brought his other hand up and wrapped it around Quatre's, using it to pull the first finger out and guide the next in. As the shock wore off, Quatre found himself quickly gasping for breath, his legs becoming weak. He fell forward into Trowa's embrace, and Trowa's other arm went around him, lending him support, the first one still being involved in the act that was causing him to need support in the first place.
"Trowa..." he was finding it harder and harder to breathe while Trowa moved on, planting little kisses down his arm. He whispered the name over and over, like a mantra, as Trowa's lips found their way into the crook of his neck,
"You don't know what you do to me," he whispered into the soft flesh there, "what you've always done to me- from the moment you stepped out of your Gundam..." his hand slipped just barely into the back waistband of Quatre's pants, the slight push he gave there was all it took to meld the two of them together from the hips up. Quatre moaned softly, completely caught up in the sensation of being here, of being here with Trowa, of not having to pretend anymore, "I want you... I want you so badly... Quatre," his name fell from Trowa's lips as an almost inaudible moan. Heaven... this was heaven...
"Then I'm yours. All yours..."
And then it all shattered.
"Non. Je ne peux pas. Je ne peux pas. I can't have you. Not the way we want. Not until this war it over... This is a weakness neither one of us can afford."

Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace?
But I only can see myself.
Skating around the truth who I am
But I know that... the ice is getting thin.


And that was that.
They had shared another tender kiss and then Trowa had left and they hadn't so much as touched each other since. Every so often, he'd catch some of those earlier emotions swirling in Trowa's eyes- emotions he knew swirled through his own as well. But they could do nothing, say nothing... not until the world was safe. Not until *they* were safe.
Quatre stood there, watching the sunrise for a moment longer, lost in thought. Then he shook himself out of it, and turned to Heero.
"I doubt you ate what was on your tray. Let's see about getting you some breakfast, shall we? The only thing worse than being miserable is being miserable and hungry." Heero looked at him and his lips twisted into what Quatre supposed was Heero's version of a smile as they headed to the kitchen.

And he says, "When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?
When you gonna make up your mind?
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed."
I tell you that I'll always want you near.
You say that things change my dear.


It was during breakfast that Quatre had the idea.
"Heero! We're being so *stupid*!" Heero just looked up from his oatmeal, silently, "How does Duo get his mission assignments?"
"E-mail. Same as the rest of us. But his codes are top secret, known only to him and... his "Doctor" I suppose."
"But there *is* a way to find that code. I don't know it and you don't know it, but we both know someone who can figure it out," Quatre paused, "But you aren't going to like who it is..."
"Who?" Heero's voice could have frozen mercury.
"Who has always been able to find you, no matter where you were, no matter how classified your mission was?" Realization dawned on Heero like a nuclear bomb hitting land.
"Relena." he said softly. Then, a moment later, something hard settled into his eyes, "Mission: Accepted."

Hair is grey and the fire are burning.
So many dreams on the shelf.
You say "I wanted you to be proud of me".
I always wanted that myself.

He says, "When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?
When you gonna make up your mind?
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses have gone ahead."
You tell me that you'll always want me near.
I say that things change my dear.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Send all comments to Lucretia@jenovaproject.com or fromherashes@yahoo.com

Go on to Weak Hearts!