(Note from the Authors: Hope everyone enjoys part 1 of our little collaborative ficcie! We do not own Gundam Wing, Trowa, Quatre or Midii. Beware this fic contains
yaoi, lemon and angst. She'll probably kill me for this but all the 'good parts' were written by Maria!!--Midii, who got to write this cuz I posted it, ha ha I did think
of the title though!)
Bed of Lies
by Midii Une & Maria Rocket
“I am all that I’ll
when you - lay
but don’t go weak
on me now
I know that it’s
But God help me I need this”
He was as essential to him as the sun.
The sun was the metaphor that always came to mind when he thought of Quatre. His smooth skin as warm as a handful of desert sand beneath his fingers. His kisses as hot and sultry as a summer day. His presence in Trowa’s life like the bright ring of fire that rose every morning to dispel the darkness. He could picture that beautiful face surrounded by hair as pure and golden as a sunbeam itself.
And he needed him as much as the Earth itself needed the Sun. Without him he would surely die away, cold and untouched and empty.
But . . .
The skin beneath his fingers was cool and soft. Only his touch seemed to warm her skin. And in her eyes he was the only good thing that existed in her world. Her urgent touches and kisses evoked unfamiliar feelings in him. It was a strange, heady, different feeling to be the one to be so pursued, so desired by her. She had been the first beautiful thing in his life, once upon a time, and when they’d met again she’d made herself a part of his life again so easily. Her desperation to be loved so transparent in her eyes.
She needed him, Midii needed him. Without him in her life she would be so alone, so cold. She would tell him that over and over, her voice soft and pleading in his ear, her warm breath tickling his cheek.
“Trowa, I need you.” He could hear her voice so clearly. “I’ll do anything, just love me.” The feel of her soft lips traveling from behind his ear, along the side of his neck over his chest and then lower still. His hands in her soft blonde hair. The hair that was so much like Quatre’s.
He needed Quatre like that. But he didn’t say the things Midii said to him. Not out loud. But it was there in his head. “Quatre, I need you. I’ll do anything, just love me.”
And then he was suddenly there again. Back in his life without warning, the personification of ‘pleasant surprise.’ His heart started pounding as he unlocked his apartment door, the faint odor of the sandalwood cologne Quatre always wore lingering around the edges. He knew he was inside, he had the key.
The key to his apartment, the key to his heart, the key to everything. Quatre had the key.
“Oh Trowa! It’s been so long,” Quatre said. He sat on the couch, totally at home there. “I’m sorry. I just had so much business to attend to. But we’re together again now. Two weeks, at least, just the two of us, Trowa-muhibb.”
Lover. His skin tingled as Quatre’s voice caressed the word, it evoked erotic images of the two of them together in his mind. Trowa’s eyes drank in the sight of him, truly he must be one of the most beautiful people ever created, man or woman, he thought. It had surprised him when he’d felt that way when he’d first met him the feelings rising up in him instantly, feelings he’d never had before. There was still a bit of disbelief that someone like Quatre, as perfect as he was, could love him, a nameless soldier without a past and now without even a purpose. But he did love him, he could see it in those clear, shining blue eyes. Love, coupled with desire, an irresistible combination. Trowa drew the back of his hand over Quatre’s cheek and both of them closed their eyes and smiled at the sensations caused by the soft contact of skin on skin.
Midii felt shaky and exhausted at the end of the work day, it had been that way for the past few weeks. She looked at her reflection in the dark glass of the bus window. “I look horrible,” she thought. There were bags under her eyes and she looked so dull. Her skin was gray-tinged and all the blue seemed drained out of her eyes, leaving them looking gray as well.
“What’s wrong with me,” she thought, leaning her head against the cold window and closing her eyes tiredly. She hoped Trowa would come to her tonight, she imagined herself wrapped tight in his arms. His being there would force her to smile and shake off these feelings.
But, he was unpredictable. Sometimes, it was almost as if he tried to stay away from her and couldn’t bring himself to be with her. It seemed as if he tried to avoid her for as long as possible and then was somehow drawn to return. And every time she wondered if this would be the time he never came back. She would wait and wait and he would simply never come. Her stomach turned at the thought and her heart raced nervously.
“He pities you,” she thought, her heart breaking. The first time they’d made love she’d practically begged him to kiss her, to hold her. She’d seduced him with her kisses, her touches and her desperate words, she knew that. How she hoped he would come to really love her eventually.
She dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment and thought about taking a shower and putting on some makeup.
“I’ll just lie down for awhile first,” she thought as the unmade bed caught her eye. She hadn’t had the energy to make it or change the sheets since the last time he’d been with her. She curled up on the bed and pulled the pillow he used close to her and fell asleep. When she woke up it was full dark and a glance at the digital clock told her it was close to midnight.
“Trowa,” she whispered, sitting up and looking around the room for a sign that he had come.
She sighed and lay back down, her eyes full of tears. He hadn’t come and she needed him. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her arms still encircling the pillow and she inhaled the musky scent of him that remained on the soft cotton. Midii shivered a little. She was always so cold when she was alone, if only he was here. She imagined cuddling up to his hard-muscled chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart.
“Trowa,’ she sobbed into the darkness. “I need you.”
But obviously he didn’t need her.
“Trowa, you seem restless,” Quatre murmured in the dark, his hand brushing softly through his lover’s hair as they lay in the dark.
The other man made a non-commital sound. The initial thrill of being with Quatre again had faded, only the tiniest bit, but it was enough to let in other thoughts and something was pricking his conscience faintly but persistently. He had promised her he would come tonight, it had been almost a week. He tried to push the thought of her away.
Quatre knew Trowa too well, understood how his feelings were hidden so far inside. He was patient and he cared enough to prod him a little to get him to talk about it. He thought he might know the reason, lately they’d been at a crossroads in their relationship and when he’d gone away last time he’d sensed that Trowa was uneasy about how things stood. He hadn’t really known how to make him feel how much he loved him and now he seemed a bit distant.
“I couldn’t stop thinking of you the entire time I was away,” Quatre’s open palm traveled around the curves of Trowa’s back in slow, artistic strokes.
“It was torture.”
Torture. It was the guilt eating away at Trowa's spirit. The fingers playing across his back as deftly as they played a violin comforted him, but the guilt lingered. He couldn't continue deceiving the people he cared about. The solution to his problem, however, was a two-edged sword. Trowa couldn't escape the vision of Midii, alone and waiting for him, nor the warmth of Quatre's body pressed up against him. Part of him wanted to tear out of there and find Midii. The other part of him didn't want to move at
all. He tucked his face into the wavy mess of Quatre's hair with an agonizing sigh.
"How long are you staying this time, Quatre?" He asked quietly, his voice slightly muffled against the top of the blonde's head.
As if they had finally found the spot they were searching for, the fingers on Trowa's back held still, pressed gently into the skin. The touch sent a tingling, pleasant sensation down the middle of his back, until it flared out at the base of his spine. As it faded, he felt the push of Quatre's nose, and a soft touch beneath his chin.
"I'll stay as long as I can," Quatre sighed, his lips brushed against Trowa's skin as they moved. "You know how it is..."
"I quit the circus so I could live closer to you," Trowa pulled him tighter to himself, as if afraid Quatre might actually leave at that moment. He felt Quatre shudder with a pleased noise as he rolled over to cover the blonde's body. "I want to be with you. But I can't keep doing this. You have no idea how much it's tearing me apart."
Before Trowa could say anything else, Quatre surged up against him, and with one hand behind his neck, kissed him deeply. For several minutes, Trowa forgot what he'd been talking about. Then he heard Quatre speaking, in a voice that sounded peculiarly deeper than usual.
"Oh Trowa.... You're right." Even in the dim light, his eyes shone as they met Trowa's gaze. "I love you, and I'm going to prove it to you. I want you to come live with me. Please, Trowa? I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
An insane rush of joy went through Trowa, and he was completely speechless.
Confused by Trowa's lack of response, Quatre shrunk back a bit. Had he been too forward? Or did he just sound too foolish? Oh, what the hell... "Don't you believe me? Trowa, I don't ever want to leave you behind again. I mean it!" He leaned forward and kissed Trowa softly, then drew away to look at him sincerely. "Trowa...please, say something! Do I have to propose to you? Okay, I am!"
Trowa's face was starting to contort. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or laugh like a maniac. This wasn't helping Quatre any. He was quickly becoming a nervous wreck.
His eyes went wide as saucers as Trowa slowly lowered his face, hiding it against Quatre's chest.
"Trowa, please! Marry me!"
Slowly raising his face again, Trowa was only visible from the eyes up. The rest was lost in shadow. His green eyes narrowed sharply. Then unable to hold it any longer, he burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"Uh...Trowa?" Quatre stared, wondering if he'd gone a little too far.
"Quatre." Trowa finally stopped laughing. He heard Quatre gasp in surprise as he suddenly embraced him tightly, and kissed the outer curve of his ear. "Yes," Trowa whispered, his breath moving the golden hair stringing over Quatre's ear. "Yes... Yes..."
And the words caught in Trowa's throat. He realized he was promising himself to Quatre forever. And he wanted to. He'd never been able to truly admit it, but this was what he'd wanted so badly for as long as he'd known Quatre. Now his dream was coming true...
One of them. Trowa remembered Midii again, waiting for him. Now would she be waiting there forever? By giving himself to Quatre, he knew he could never go back to Midii's arms again. Without being aware of what he was doing, he began to rock gently against Quatre as he kissed his neck. He couldn't hear his lover's soft ecstatic cries or feel the hands clutching at his back. He was seeing Midii's face, and hearing her voice.
Never again. His heart clenched and he went still.
I have to do what's right, he thought to himself. But how am I supposed to act on my emotions here? I want them both. He continued to hide his face against Quatre's neck as they rolled over and he ended up on his back. Then he felt Quatre claim him in another passionate kiss, and something inside him melted.
He needed Quatre. He needed those arms close around him, that warmth, always comforting his battered spirit. He needed Quatre's undying love and security. Closing his eyes, he arched up against the man he loved and let blissful oblivion take him.
Midii lay there alone watching the soft gray light at the window become slowly brighter. The tears oozed slowly from the corners of her eyes. She’d been awake for the rest of the night, but he’d never come. Finally she couldn’t bear it. She had to find Trowa. He was never angry when she went to him although she tried not to push it. Midii realized that her behavior was suffocating and possessive, but she couldn’t stop. She’d loved him ever since they met in the woods so long ago. Now that she’d finally found him again and he’d granted her some small measure of forgiveness she couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t help wanting more, wanting him to feel for her what she felt for him.
The hot water of the shower didn’t do much to erase her gray, depressed mood. But, as she drew the soapy sponge, fragrant with lavender, over her body she thought of him touching her and shivered in delight at the thoughts, caught her breath at the memory of their lovemaking. His warm hands gently running over her body like the water of the shower, his lips on hers hot and demanding, the sounds of pleasure he made when he buried himself deep within her. Soon, she thought. He just forgot, that’s all, he’ll be happy to see me, he always is . . .
Midii pressed herself flat against Trowa’s door. There was no sound inside. He must be asleep. She wished she had a key to his apartment but despite her none-too-subtle hints to that effect he had never given her one. Her confidence slipped a little remembering that little humiliation. But her slightly shady background had afforded her many questionable talents. She slipped one of her credit cards between the door and frame and it silently opened.
She froze, because once inside the door she could hear the soft sound of voices. He wasn’t alone.
"Mmm...so you're still conscious?"
Midii frowned at the strange male voice. Was Trowa in trouble? She edged quietly along the wall. Her hands clenched at her sides, wishing she had some sort of
weapon. She was frantically searching for something that could possibly do some damage, when she heard the voice again. Her head turned, realizing it was coming from the bedroom.
"Trowa... It wasn't that bad, was it?"
Now overwhelmed by curiosity, Midii dared to creep over and quickly peeked around the bedroom doorway. The entire apartment was dark, and she figured she could get away with the movement. What was going on?
"Of course not. It was wonderful, as always." Trowa's unmistakable voice replied, sounding a little tired.
Nearly falling over, Midii stumbled away from the doorway. It had been dark, but she'd seen more than she had wanted to. Oh God. Her knees felt weak. Trowa was in that bed with his arms around someone else. Another man. She shook her head slowly in wide-eyed, anguished disbelief.
Trowa, she thought to herself, how could you do this to me? Trembling, she was stuck where she stood in shock. She silently prayed it was some terrible nightmare, and that she would soon wake up.
Within the bedroom, Quatre touched noses with Trowa and looked into his eyes. "Something's bothering you. And if it isn't my performance, then what is it?" He smiled gently and prodded at Trowa's chest. "C'mon..."
With a sigh, Trowa pulled away and sat up on the bed.
"Trowa?" Quatre asked uncertainly.
"Before we take our relationship any further, I need to be honest with you." Trowa ran a hand back through his hair, briefly brushing it away from his face. "While you were away, someone I knew during the war, years before we met, came back into my life. Besides yourself, she's the only person who's ever really understood me. I didn't expect it... But one thing led to another..."
"What are you trying to say?" Quatre asked, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. His eyes narrowed slightly with concern. He couldn't see Trowa's face, hidden beneath his hair.
"Quatre... I've been having an affair with her."
Quatre was silent for a moment. A woman. He was certain she must be beautiful and besides that she obviously had some type of hold over Trowa. Someone from the past that carried with her strong memories and some type of sense of obligation.
“Quatre,” Trowa said, softly, looking over at him. “You’re angry, you’re right to be. I can’t explain. I’m as responsible as she is but she-- I--”
“Trowa! I was just thinking about it, that’s all,” Quatre said gently. “It is a hard thing for me to hear, but I’m not angry. Do you want to be with her? I can understand it and if that’s what you want--”
“Dear God,” Midii thought. “How can he be so calm, how can he just accept this and not judge? He can’t love Trowa like I do.”
Then her heart dropped.
“No,” Trowa said, his voice cracking a little, his answer swift and sure. “No Quatre. I love you. I don’t love her, at least not the way I love you.”
There was silence and she could swear she heard the bedsprings creak.
Midii pressed herself tightly against the wall, she was afraid the pounding of her heart could be heard all through the apartment. “I’m going to faint,” she thought as the light in the room seemed to fade in and out and the walls tilted precariously. Her own personal earthquake. Her world crashing around her.
She shook her head violently and took some deep breaths before slipping out the door and running down the stairs and out on the street. She rounded the corner of the building and leaned against it, sliding slowly down and putting her head between her knees, trying to recover enough to get home.
She could hear his voice over and over again. “I don’t love her. I don’t love her. I don’t love her.” He hadn’t hesitated, not a moment.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Miss? Miss, are you alright,” a voice asked. It sounded so far away, as far away as the voice in her mind.
“I don’t love her.”
The stranger caught her as she pitched forward unconscious. He shook her a little but she didn’t come to and her face was so white and unnaturally pale.
“Poor little thing,” he thought, touching her cold cheek, damp with tears.
She woke up in a strange place, in a strange bed. When she tried to sit up hands pushed her firmly back down. Her eyes focussed a little and she noticed a sharp pain in her arm. Midii started to panic when she saw the intravenous drip and tried to sit up again.
“Calm down,” a voice said. “You’re at the hospital and you need to rest. I’ll bring the doctor in to talk to you shortly.”
Midii did as she was told, but her mind raced. The hospital? She couldn’t afford the hospital. She raised a trembling hand to push the hair out of her face.
Finally a doctor came in. He looked at her sternly.
“You’re a lucky young lady. Lucky that someone brought you here when they did,” the doctor said. He sounded angry with her.
She merely looked at him, she still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here, all she remembered was sitting on the sidewalk trying to shake off a particularly bad dizzy spell.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” the doctor went on. “That’s unforgivable in your condition. Don’t you know how many women are trying to conceive naturally? It’s still a rare phenomen and yet you’ve been acting very irresponsibly.”
“What,” Midii asked, blinking. “Conceive? What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you been feeling ill,” he asked curiously. “Haven’t you been seeing a doctor? My God miss, you’re going to have a child. It’s not a very common occurrence these days but it’s getting to be more prevalent. Soon we may not have to resort to test tubes at all. Congratulations. Now, is there someone we can call? Your husband should be contacted immediately.”
A baby, she thought wonderingly. Our child. Her eyes softened, she had never even dreamed of the possibility. And they were special, the doctor had said so. She’d just assumed you had to see specialists and resort to technology to have a baby. Would Trowa be happy, she wondered.
“I don’t love her,” she remembered. She shut her eyes a moment and opened them again quickly, like Trowa had she made her decision in a heartbeat, without hesitation.
“There’s no one to call,” she said. “I’m all alone.”
He could have sworn he smelled lavender when he got up to make coffee. It was all resolved, he was going to give up this apartment and they would be together all the time. Trowa couldn’t believe they had finally made the decision. To be with Quatre always. He smelled the scent of lavender again and opened the door quickly but there was no one there. Once she’d sat huddled outside his door all night and he’d found her there in the morning. He’d carried her in and they had made love the whole day through, neither of them going to work or even bothering to call in. Midii.
The scent must be a product of his imagination, a guilty conscience. He knew that he’d have to go see her, to tell her goodbye. She would be so emotional and he dreaded hurting her. So unlike Quatre, and yet he wished Quatre had been at least a little upset that he’d slept with someone else. But that wasn’t Quatre and in a way it was reassuring and comforting that nothing he could ever do would change Quatre’s love for him. Quatre’s philosophy was that everything happened for a reason and so things rarely upset him. Midii was the complete opposite, like him, she’d been so hurt by the world that everything that happened to her was like salt on old wounds. He’d said he didn’t love her and yet he did, in a way, felt a strange surge of responsibility and protectiveness. But not strong enough to dim his feelings for Quatre, not in the least.
Still, he felt uneasy and he knew it had to do with Midii. She was as volatile as a chemical fire. She was unstable and unpredictable and he knew his failure to show up last night or to even call was enough to cause a major reaction. In some ways it would be such a relief to leave her behind, leave this colony. He’d had enough of instability, enough of all of it. Trowa was a soldier who’d earned his peace. And Quatre was peace. Midii was still the symbol of war and all the pain that went with it. It was a part of him he couldn’t deny, he forgave her for what she’d done so long ago. She had only been a child. But he didn’t want to deal with her anymore. He hated to hurt her but he had no choice, he loved Quatre. He wanted to be with Quatre.
He sat in a chair at the table and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, the random thoughts swirling inside were giving him a headache. He’d suffered from those on occasion since the Vayeate accident. The relationship with Midii only seemed to increase their frequency. He knew he had to call her, make some excuse for not showing up last night and in a few days he’d go to see her and somehow explain that he was leaving.
But the phone in her apartment rang and rang. Strange, usually she’d pick up before the echo of the first ring died away.
She must have gone out, he told himself, even though he knew that was unlikely, she never went anywhere. She only sat by the phone and waited for him. He was all she had. His headache turned into a migraine.
Midii grimaced as she loosened the tape on her arm and worked the long IV needle out of her vein. She gasped at the brief sharp pain but it faded quickly. When she stood up she was surprised how much better she felt. Now that she knew what her problem was she didn’t feel so bad. It was all for a good cause after all.
Her baby. Hers. All hers.
She didn’t have Trowa but now, in a way, she always would. Her hand brushed against her stomach briefly. He would be hers again, that boy in the forest. Nanashi. And he would love her and only her this time.
She found her clothes and slipped out unnoticed by the staff.
Junk mail littered the floor in the dark and narrow apartment building foyer below the mailbox with her name on it. He gathered it up and sorted through it. Nothing but bills and advertisements. Nothing personal.
Trowa unlocked her door, she’d insisted on giving him a key. The place was a mess, as usual, depressingly so. Dirty dishes on the counter, her clothes scattered everywhere, the bed unmade, even one of his shirts tossed over a lampshade. He flushed a little when he saw it, remembering how he had tossed it aside the last time he’d been with her, eager to discard it, in such a hurry to feel her cool soft body naked and crushed beneath his own. His desire for her fed by her desperate need for him. And for the first time since Quatre had returned he felt a hot surge of passion for Midii again, the sight of the unmade bed, the twisted sheets bringing back images of the two of them together. But he squelched the urge. No, never again, not anymore. Besides, she wasn’t here, he could tell by the stale air that no one had been in here for days. The answering machine lit up with 30 messages, all from him and the place she worked. She’d never listened to a one of them.
“Do you have any idea where she might be,” he asked the building supervisor, who’d shown up when he noticed a presence in the abandoned apartment.
“If you don’t know I certainly don’t,” the man said sharply, looking around the untidy apartment with an expression of distaste. “Far as I know you’re the only one who ever comes here but her. And she owes me three months rent. When she does get back I’m kicking her out. There’s plenty of people in line for an apartment like this.”
Trowa wrote a check for the back rent and for six months in advance, a frown crossing the handsome face that hid beneath his auburn bangs. The last thing he needed was to think of her out on the street. He wondered where she could be.
“Midii what have you done,” he thought. Why would she disappear like this?
He sorted through the mail once more hoping for a clue when he noticed one of the bills was from a hospital. He only hesitated a second before ripping it open and scanning the paper: emergency room treatment, ambulance transportation. All on the day after Quatre had come.
They wouldn’t tell him anything at the hospital. Confidentiality was sacred, even after Quatre paid her outstanding bills and tried to pull some strings with his famous and important name. They wouldn’t tell him anything. Not even whether she was dead or alive.
Quatre looked at Trowa sorrowfully as he stared out the window of the departing space shuttle. Stared at the colony as it slowly disappeared from view. She’d done it somehow, worked herself under his skin with her disappearance. Now Trowa
would never be able to forget about her. Quatre closed his blue eyes and sighed. Why did there have to be so much pain for his beloved Trowa? He’d try his best to protect him from now on. He should never have been apart from him so much in the first place, they should have always been together and none of this would have happened. But there was room in his heart to feel pity for her too. Trowa was his and he couldn’t imagine the pain he’d have felt if he’d chosen Midii Une instead.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .