A Little Fall Of Rain

Disclaimer: this is probably the shortest fic I'm ever going to write, but I'm going to pack as much into it as I can.  I don't own GW, and, Quatre fans, I'm warning you right now- you're going to hate me after you read this.  If I do an okay job, that is.  No warnings right now or I'll give it away!


The rain poured down in sheets all around me.  I coughed, my voice rasping only faintly audible above the loud pattering of the falling water.  It was hard to hear anything above the rain, much less my own weak coughs.  Something warm spurted out of my mouth and trickled from the side of my mouth down to my chin.  My blood, perhaps?  It didn't matter.  I couldn't gather up the strength to wipe it away in any case, and the warmth was quickly gone.  Perhaps the cold rain would wash it away for me.

I heard the soft squelch of footsteps in the mud and I tried my hardest to turn my head to see who it was coming towards me so slowly, picking their footsteps in the muck.  Another robber of the dead, perhaps, too busy plundering to summon some help for those of us who were not quite dead, only dying.  Too busy to hear us beg the theif in our weak voices to pass along messages to our loved ones, to our families.  But these footsteps were different.  All of a sudden the person broke into a run and, ignoring the spattering of the mud all around him, came frantically closer.  It wasn't until the person knelt down in the mud and lifted up my tired head that I realized who it was.

"T... Trowa..."

My dear friend and companion stroked my wet hair away from my brow.  "Quatre.  What are you doing here?  This was my mission.  You were to stay behind."  His voice was monotonous, not revealing any of the feelings he had only recently begun to learn about and tame.  But I could see the horror in his eyes, and the pain...  Poor Trowa.

I tried my hardest to smile.  "I... I couldn't let you do it all alone now, could I?"

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes passed over my limp and bloody form.  He rested my head in his lap.  I was so cold, and he so warm, but I couldn't seem to take any comfort from his warmth...

"It was you, wasn't it?  The person who stepped in front of me when the arms men started firing?  Was that you?"

I managed a weak smile.  "Yes, it was.  S... something went wrong, Trowa.  We... we've lost."  I coughed, letting my head fall to the side.  A bit more blood spurted out, staining my cheek and filling my mouth wth the iron taste of the life source.

"No.  We have not lost.  We can't have lost."

"We've lost," I repeated, more firmly.  "Trowa... tell... tell my family that I'll miss them.  Please?"  It was getting harder to keep my eyes open, and even harder to keep talking.  I wanted so much to rest, to sleep forever...  My thoughts were getting murkier, and all I could think was that we had lost  Over and over again.  We had lost.

"No.  Quatre, you'll be fine.  I'll get you to back to the safe house, and we'll get you a doctor.  Understand, Quatre?  Little one?  We'll get you out of the rain."  His voice tremored.  Trowa's voice had tremored.  I suddenly found that I was glad to have heard him give into his emotions at least once before it had all ended.  I was so very happy...

I managed a tiny laugh.  "The rain can't hurt me now, Trowa.  I... I just want to sleep now.  Let me sleep, Trowa..."  My voice trailed off.  "Let me sleep...."

"No!"  The rain was streaking down Trowa's cheeks in swift rivers.  Or was it the rain at all?  Was it possible that Trowa was crying?  My dear Trowa....

"A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now, Trowa.  The rain... will wash away all what's past.  And, come spring time, there will be flowers growing here.  Trowa... go to look at the flowers for me.  Please, Trowa..."  I couldn't go on.  My voice failed me, and my breath caught in my throat.  Then, all of a sudden, everything just seemed to shut down in a wave of black.

I could still see everything, but it was as though I was watching through a dream.  I was screaming at myself, inside, there was so much more I wanted to tell him.  I just wanted to let him know that it wasn't painful. The bullet had gone straight through, shocking me completely. It happened so fast…  I had hardly known I had blocked the shot intended for you until it was over... I was no hero, so why was Trowa crying, salty tears mixing with the rain to form a subtle blend of sadness and renewal.

And then I saw Trowa take my cold, limp hand in his own.  Why?  Why was he holding my debilitated fingers tightly?  Didn't he know I couldn't hold his back?  Not now...  Never again.  No... Trowa... I wanted to go back, I wanted to hold Trowa again and tell him everything was alright, it wasn't real, he hadn't just lost yet another friend, yet another loved one...  No, Trowa, Trowa!  I wanted to yell out that I was still there, and, if you could hear me, that I was okay, and that I still cared for you.  Trowa...

But no.  As the rain slowly tapered off, so did my last glimpses of the world I had left behind.  Turning, I faced the gray void ahead of me, a realm of mystery, and stepped forward.  But I left my voice behind, one last word for Trowa to remember in his dreams, a phrase I hoped would bring him comfort and peace.  Just a whisper, a memory.



Well, that's it.  I hope I moved a few hearts, or at least made a few people think.  I also hope that it wasn't too confusing, and even that it made a little sense.  If it didn't, I guess I have no one to blame for it but myself.  Please send comments and complaints to me!  Ja ne!