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"What May Come"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Language, angst, violence, sex Pairings: 2x3x2 Summary: Almost two years after the war, Trowa Barton decides to move on and enrolls at Amaris University, located on the former Lunar Base. He quickly learns that the past isn't so easy to run away from, especially not when the past confronts him in the form of Duo Maxwell. A/N: This has been in my head for years. I'm
sorry it isn't an update to any of my WIPs but… it's a challenge
to get back in the heads of characters who I haven't lived with in
a while. For now, all I can do is try to write - but rest assured
that I am looking over my old work and making notes and preparing
to update. Eventually. I'm sorry I can't promise more. "What May Come " Chapter Five The halls were bouncing, echoing, ricocheting. The clatter and wail of confused civilians competed with the shrill warning klaxons. Bodies packed the halls, frantically shuffled one way and then another when they realized there was no where to run and the red emergency lights drowned everything. Trowa found it impossible to breathe. He tried to shoulder his way through the tide of civilians, towards the hangar, and he was standing in front of the open doors and staring at the empty cafeteria before he realized - it wasn't a hangar anymore. Behind him they screamed in fear - they hadn't fought, but they knew what those klaxons meant: under attack. Someone was attacking the Lunar Base, the University, and there were fifty thousand civilians completely helpless. He stared at the empty blackness of space and felt his entire being stretch out - desperate, frantic for something. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help these fifty thousand civilians who were trapped in this coffin. He had no weapons. He had no mobile suit. He had no shuttle. He didn't even have an oxygen tank. He had nothing. He could save no one. They were being invaded, attacked, and he couldn't do a damn thing. He was a sheep, a useless moron. Just like the rest of them. Fifty thousand useless corpses - Where the hell was Duo? The panic clawing at Trowa's throat intensified. Where the hell was Duo? "Hey! I'm here! Tro! I'm right here, man!" Someone tackled him, arms grabbing him tight and Trowa fought, scrambling for freedom and in the process bashing his nose against the door frame of the caf. "It's me, Tro, it's me. I'm right here, buddy. We're fine, Tro. We're fine." The arms were back and they felt like steel bands wrapped around his chest, and his lungs felt like bursting. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move - they were all going to die like this. "It's nothing, Tro, it's just some prank. Some sick, stupid fuck - there's no attack. Please, Tro, listen to me. You're safe." "I can't do it - I can't do anything," Trowa whispered to himself, his captor - an admission of his uselessness. "I can't fight anymore." "You don't have to. Jesus, Tro, you don't have to." The arms pulled him against a firm body and Trowa realized he was completely trapped. "Breathe with me, Tro - you gotta regulate your breathing, man. You're going to hyperventilate and pass out and I sure as shit can't carry you back to your quarters." He had been told that before - years ago when he climbed into the cockpit of Heavyarms for the first time - regulate your breathing or you will pass out, crash to Earth, and fail the mission. "In and out, Tro. Just in and out. I've got you, Tro. I've got you." The arms still held him tight and he could feel strong, muscular thighs on either side of his hips, locking him in place. But there were hands, two long fingered hands rubbing circles over his chest, the touch firm but light and he focused on that. In and out. In and out. "You never have to fight again, Tro, never again," the voice had lost its desperate edge and Trowa felt the black tide of terror start to recede. It was Duo. Duo's voice. Duo's hands. Duo's body. Duo had found him. Fifty thousand mindless, useless sheep and Duo had found him. "I've got you, Tro, I promise. I've got you."
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