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"Agglomeration"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: R Warnings: Drama, Angst, Deathfic, Major Character
Death Pairings: Zechs/Noin, Trowa/Quatre Summary: When a terrible mistake leads to tragic
consequences, can one woman find forgiveness? "Requiem " Over the years they’d worked together, Noin was able to call him one of her best friends. The relationship began as commanding officer and subordinate, but Noin developed a strong respect for the young man who was not only an exceptional commander, especially at such a young age, but also the kindest person she’d ever had the privilege to meet. She was honored to call him “friend”. She’d been there when he was just a boy, grieving over the loss of his comrade. She hadn’t realized at the time, though now in hindsight, she felt she should have, that the missing pilot Zero Three was much more than a comrade, much more than a friend. It took her a little while, but she eventually figured it out. As someone who was pining over love herself, they soon formed a strong bond and often confided in each other over their doubts and insecurities. It was Quatre that Noin asked to walk her down the aisle on the day she married Zechs. When Quatre married Trowa, she was his Matron of Honor. They continued to work together after joining the Preventers. Noin was not the least bit surprised when Quatre climbed to the top ranks. It was inevitable really. He was a born leader and he flourished as Deputy Director to Lady Une. Noin herself was one of his Lieutenants and she was immensely proud of that. She still wasn’t sure what went wrong. It had been a rather routine mission, something she’d done a thousand times. Meet with the informant on the Berlin case and retrieve information on OZ sleeper cells. Une said a spy for the underground organization had discovered that the informant, one of their own infiltrators, was working both sides. She should have taken more precautions. She’d let her guard down was the simple fact of the matter. She never noticed the suspicious man who placed an unmarked backpack several tables away from her and the informant. The pub was dark and dingy and they were tucked way in the back, where she’d thought they were out of sight. The explosion brought half the building down on top of them and the rest of it swayed precariously over her prone body. She was unable to escape, her legs pinned beneath a steel beam and she realized with a sinking sense of regret, that she was going to die. Only she didn’t. Quatre had abandoned his surveillance post and came to her aid. He managed to help her wedge her legs out from beneath the beam. She’d clung to him, barely able to walk as they worked their way through the rubble. There was a weak cry for help somewhere within the remnants of the pub and Quatre, never one to leave anyone behind, got Noin to safety where she was looked after by their comrades, and went back inside to help the survivor. Noin called to him, glancing up as the remaining part of the roof creaked ominously and began to buckle. What happened next could only be described in her mind as surreal. She watched in horror as the rest of the building came down, with Quatre still inside. He was crushed to death. That was the long and the short of it. She’d been nearly catatonic with shock, the guilt so overwhelming, she refused to see anyone except her husband while she recovered in the hospital for her smashed legs. Zechs was sweet, supportive, but she was too overcome with remorse to comprehend half the things he said to her. She was allowed to attend the funeral a few days later, though she was wheelchair bound. It was performed in a Catholic ceremony provided by Duo, despite the fact that Quatre was not Catholic. Noin had a hard time looking Trowa in the eyes and was shocked when he approached her, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, to ask if she could say a few words. “I - I can’t. I’m so sorry. I would think -” “You were his best friend. You’re still his best friend. I know, wherever he is, he is not angry with you. And if he’s not, I have no right to be either.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Quatre’s forgiven you. I know he has. I do, too. There are so many friends who want to say something in honor of him. You should be among them.” Trowa squatted down and took her hand. “Forgive yourself, Mrs. Noin. That’s what Quatre would want.” A hoarse sob escaped her throat, her face contorting as she began to lose her composure. If she knew Quatre, and she did, she knew how right that was. But could she really do it? Right now, probably not, but she owed it to Quatre to try. It was the least she could do for her best friend.
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