Nothing There Anymore- by Masamune

Disclaimer: …………….I really hate writing this damned thing. I don't own Gundam Wing, nor any of the characters therein. Sue me and I'll come after you with a mythril mallet of doom…understand?!?

Warnings: YAOI, I love it but you might not. Don't read if you can't stand the thought of a male/male relationship. 14, some other pairings later. Angst, Heero being a bastard.

Note- I haven't paid much attention to this fic, and almost for four years have left it unfinished. Now, with a new year, and some better (I hope) writing ability, I aim to finish this story and many of my other GW fics. I've gone back and redone this entire fic, so I am also resubmitting it to every website and ML that it's been on before. Apologies to those who have read it before, since it won't be vastly different. As usual, feedback and the usual can be sent to as well as any criticisms/suggestions. Thank you very much- masamune1/05

Part 1

The sound fizzled, the annoying buzz of static crackling in the damp jungle air. Quatre sat and stared intently at the video screen. All his attention was focused on the small monitor that was nothing more than a blur of black and white dots and speckles. The Sandrock pilot waited, holding his breath for the message to come. He could not even wipe away the sweat drenching his face, enough to turn his blonde bangs to a wooden brown hue.

/Everyone's safe…right? Heero…Heero has to be safe…/

"Hmph, just like a damn onna," Wufei sneered, turning around and casually leaving the room where the mounting tension had created some perspiration on the normally stoic youth's brow.

The only calm came from Trowa, standing with his back against the far wall. The lanky boy was seemingly indifferent to everything that was going on, as usual.

"Szszzzsz…missio…sxszsszz…mpleted," Heero's voice finally escaped the static filled channel and sent waves of relief through Quatre. The blonde silently thanked the Gods and then grabbed the microphone. There was still no video feed, and Quatre yearned to see his lover again.

"This is Quatre, over. Is everything all right? Repeat, this is Quatre. Can you hear me Heero?" Quatre's voice was giddy and filled with relief from learning that Heero was alive.

"Quiet!" Heero's voice snapped over the communication channel. "…Szssz…not a safe line…szsszs…understand 04?...szsxzx could be tapped…szsxzs…OZ. We're returning to base, end commun-xczszs…."

The line fizzled and crackled again as Quatre was left holding the microphone. The young blond pilot had been rocked by Heero's angry words, coming on the first occasion in months that they had been able to speak to one another.

/Why does it seem that he's always shouting at me lately?/

Heero and Duo had been away on missions for more than two months, with only minimal contact with the others. Quatre often found himself wishing he'd been assigned a lower number so he'd be on more missions with Heero.

/Couldn't he at least let me tell him that I'm glad he's Ok?/

Finally, Trowa walked over and knelt down next to Quatre. The soft emerald eyes only glanced at him momentarily as the mercenary turned clown switched off the monitor and shut down the communications setup. Without a word the Heavyarms pilot stood and strode from the room, casting a concerned glance over his shoulder

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The three off-duty pilots had finished dinner, eaten in almost complete silence. Trowa and Wufei weren't the most sociable of friends to have over for dinner. The meal had passed without anyone saying a word, not even an attempt from Quatre to break the dead silence. Normally he encouraged his fellow pilots to talk and share with each other, except for Duo who never needed to be encouraged to speak. No, Quatre's mind was elsewhere today.

It was Trowa's turn to wash the dishes. Quatre, however, had insisted on helping since it had also turned out to be Trowa's turn to cook. The two spoke only sparingly as they worked over the greasy pots and pans, mostly about the fact that they were running out of soap and would need to run to the nearby town to pick up some supplies.

The silent, brooding mood was broken as the sound of the front door opened and Duo's loud voice rang out through the house, "Honey I'm home!"

Trowa kept his mind focused on finishing the dishes. Still, he couldn't help but notice Quatre start to put down the pan he was working on, then pick it up, and finally start for the door with it still in his hand.

"Go ahead," Trowa said quietly, seeing Quatre's fidgeting towards the entrance foyer. "I'll finish up here. It wasn't even your turn to do them today."

Something indiscernible flashed through Quatre's eyes for just a moment before he put his pan back into the sudsy water. Whatever it was, it made Trowa flash a rare smile. The blonde took off at a brisk walk towards the front door. Trowa grinned slightly to himself and thought.

/He makes it so obvious sometimes. And as much as Heero tries to downplay it, it always shows. It's nice that they have each other…/ The Heavyarms pilot mused. /But I sometimes wonder if they're right for each other. I wonder if they ever think about other…/

Trowa was somewhat surprised at his own ideas. It wasn't his business to pry and investigate his comrades' private affairs. Tonight his business was dirty dishes. However, Trowa couldn't stop a frown from forming on his face, as he saw that only one pan remained to be washed. He would have far too much time tonight to let his mind wander.

"Heero!" Quatre's voice rang out, clear and as jubilant as a bell on a wedding day. The gentle blonde walked over to where Heero stood and briefly looked him over.

/God, he looks so rugged after missions/ Quatre swooned. Heero's muscular body never failed to amaze the Arab boy.

He was so solidly built and attractive that Quatre would gasp every time Heero came to bed. Every line and muscle in his body had been memorized in adoration by the Sandrock pilot.

Heero turned to face Quatre and a smile inched its way across his face. The tired Wing pilot wore his ordinary green tanktop and spandex pants. A small sheen of sweat glistened on Heero's forehead. The two pilots looked at each other for a moment before finally completing the few steps separating them. They passionately embraced each other. Quatre stared into Heero's deep cobalt eyes.

/His eyes are so beautiful. They fit him so well, tough, yet beautiful. …But… why does he seem so distant today?/ Quatre asked himself. For Heero appeared to have an almost preoccupied aura in his gaze and seemed almost emotionless to returning home.

With a sigh Quatre ran his arms up the arch of Heero's back. He sank his head into Heero's strong chest and whispered, "I missed you."

Then, Quatre became faintly aware of something wet against his hand. Pulling away he released Heero and brought his hand to his face. It was smudged in blood.

Quatre sucked in his breath, concern swelling up inside as he peeked, and he was almost too afraid to dare that one little peek, at the back of Heero's tanktop. Indeed some of the green fabric had been torn away and underneath there was an open, but not life threatening wound.

"You're hurt," Quatre whispered, concerned about his lover. "Do you want me to wash it out or…"

"No," Heero's voice was dismissive, almost irritated. "It's not bad. Don't mess with it."

"But you're bleeding! It wouldn't bother me too much," Quatre responded, his concern slowly being waxed over by feelings of frustration and sadness.

"I said it's not bad. I'll be fine," Heero's tone turned cold and hard. The marvelous cobalt eyes were equally devoid of feeling, even as Quatre searched them for some tiny shred of emotion. They flickered only momentarily before he turned, looking towards the wall rather than at Quatre.

/What does he want me to do? Why won't he ever let me help him? I feel like I'm just an annoyance sometimes. It's like he'd be better if I just weren't around/

"Are you sure?" Quatre asked rather timidly. His small voice barely reaching Heero.

"Shimatta Quatre I said it's not bad!" Heero snapped, all too loudly. The Wing pilot's cobalt eyes burned with a flame that made Quatre take a step back. Heero looked angrier than ever. Finally, the Wing pilot brushed by his blonde lover and nearly crashed into Wufei on his way upstairs.

"What's wrong with him now?" Wufei asked Duo, pointing at Quatre.

The youth was standing in a state of awe in the center of the room. Quatre's adorable, ever cheerful face had fallen. He stared intently at the floor. It was all he could do to simply hold back his tears.

/I haven't seen him in two months and the first thing we do is fight. What did I do wrong? What's on his mind? He hasn't been himself, even before this mission. Am I doing something wrong? It's probably all my fault/

"Sometimes I think that guy's got an entire chunk of gundanium permanently inserted in his ass," Wufei spat, vehemently. He motioned in the direction of the stairs just as a door slammed shut. "I understand being professional…but Yuy really is a dick."

"Don't talk about Heero that way!" Quatre cried. The Arabian pilot turned and faced Wufei, his face ashen and depressed. "He's just under a lot of stress. You've got no right to say those things about him!"

Wufei listened intently. His nostrils flaring slightly at the passion in the smaller boy's yell. The proud Chinese pilot fixed his gaze intently on Quatre. His jet black eyes gleamed with a dark sheen and showed no pity whatsoever for his friend. Finally Wufei snorted and stalked causally out of the room.

/You say those things because you don't know him/ Quatre thought as he watched the stoic Chinese boy exit. /You don't know how nice he can be…used to be… Kuso! It hurts so much sometimes, our love. But no matter what happens I'll still try to work it out/

Duo walked up to the shaken Sandrock pilot and threw an arm over his friend's shoulder.

"We ran into a lot more problems than we expected during the mission," Duo tried to comfort Quatre's sorrow by making an excuse. "And don't worry about Wufei. He's so damn anal that if you stuck a piece of coal up his ass you'd have a diamond in a week."

The much-needed joke drew a nervous laugh from Quatre. The sudden movement and switch of emotions allowed a few tears to stream down Quatre's cheek. Quickly the Sandrock pilot wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve and tried to regain control of himself. Duo patted him on the back, feeling sorry and slightly ashamed for having watched.

"It's probably all my fault," Quatre finally spoke. Duo's smile broke upon hearing the sadness and guilt that made Quatre's voice thick. "It's something I've done…or forgotten to do. I'll go talk to him though. I'll fix it."

The platinum blonde rambled on, willing to say anything to get out of the room. Duo answered, his tone unusually serious. But Quatre didn't hear it…he didn't want to hear more. He was suddenly filled with an intense longing for Heero. All the waiting and distance between them that he had experienced for the past two months rushed through his veins at full power. Somehow, even though the distance and waiting were now a thing of the past, the heartache was more unbearable than before. Silently, Quatre wished he could be upstairs, in Heero's strong, loving embrace.

/It's me. I'm the idiot. It's my stupidity that started this. I'm to blame, not Heero. It's not him at all. I need to talk to Heero. I need to fix this/

-end part