Kracken
Disclaimer:I don't own them and I don't make any money off of this.
Warning:Male/male sex, language, angst, sap, though some gruesome war
type scenes.
Comforts
3x4
Trowa's P.O.V.
I used every tactic that I knew to get through enemy lines. I was a
captain, a private, a cook, and a messenger. I crawled on my belly
through mud and even used a pile of tagged and bagged dead soldiers as
cover. I made it, just, and couldn't believe, when I reached Quatre's
hiding place, how he had managed to choose somewhere so obvious, yet
so perfect. It caused me to reassess my opinion of him. Yes, I'd
thought of him as an innocent rich boy; dedicated, but soft. Now I was
seeing the steely side of him, the hard edge that was sheathed in that
softness. It took a firm courage and mind to trust your immunizations
and hide in a plague containment lock down. Even if the enemy had
discovered his distress signals, I doubt many would have wanted to go
in after Quatre, even dressed in bio suits. Some of the weapons grade
germs were quick and 100% deadly.
The process was simple. An outer row of chutes allowed a man to slip
a contaminated corpse inside. Automation did the rest. The bodies were
rolled to sealed containers and shelved to await proper handling.
Knowing military inefficiency, I doubted that there were any plans to
do so in the near or distant future.
My skin crawled. I didn't want to go inside. I knew I had every
immunization and DNA booster known to man, but there was still that
doubt, that sure knowledge of my own mortality, that gave me pause. I
stared for a long time at one of the chutes and imagined microbes
crawling over the slick metal surface.
The truth was, though, that I probably would have braved a lot more to
rescue Quatre Winner. Since the day that he had left himself open to
my attack, so that we could make an alliance, I had harbored feelings
that I hadn't dared voice; respect, friendship, and maybe some awe for
who he was and the sacrifices that he had made. Stronger than any of
those, though, was a desire that was more than just physical. I had
kept it to myself, of course. Quatre seemed purer than basic urges or
the feelings of a no name mercenary.
I slid into the chute, pushing my pack of supplies ahead of me. Hitting
the controls made me shiver. When the automated controls kicked in and
carried me into containment, I had to resist the urge to scramble back
out.
"Don't move!" a voice barked.
I froze, my eyes adjusting to the low light, and then I said,
cautiously, "If I don't move, I'm going to end up sealed in a
containment tube."
"Trowa?" Quatre was crouched in a corner, looking pale and disheveled.
His hand gun was trained on the center of my forehead.
"Yes," I assured him and stepped off the moving rail. I watched a
tube
open and the track shift to enter it."Are you injured?"
"Superficial," he said as he slowly stood up. "Just hungry and
thirsty.
It's been days."
He smiled at me. How a man can have such blue eyes and such a smile...
My heart clenched and I tried to box my reaction to him. We needed to
get out of there. I had to concentrate on that objective. "I have
both, but I think we should find a better hiding place."
"After my transport crashed, I didn't have much choice," Quatre replied
with a dark chuckle."Oz was everywhere...."
"They still are," I replied, seeing the tension behind his smile.
Spending days with diseased corpses, even sealed in tubes, would have
affected me as well. "We need to cover your hair and change your
clothes." Quatre looked puzzled at that and I had to explain, "You
stand out too much. You need to look plain; unremarkable."
I had everything, of course. I was no man and every man and I carried
the tools of my trade where ever I went. When I took out plain,
military clothing, he began undressing. I tried not to look, but I
couldn't help sliding glances from under the concealment of my hair.
I swallowed nervously. Quatre had a boyish shape; smooth and lightly
muscled. His waist was hard and flat, though, hipbones solid and
prominent. I had the sudden urge to run my tongue along his belly and
I felt a hot blush on my skin. His dress slacks hung low, the belt
just above where a dusting of hair would be below his navel. He
hitched them up self consciously and I couldn't help feeling almost
depraved when I handed him pants to change into as well. I saw his
blush, but he began changing without comment.
He wore briefs and his legs were scraped raw in a few places. "Climbing
out of the wreckage," he explained and I realized that I was openly
staring now. I nodded and turned away self consciously, wondering how
he had managed to be lucky enough to escape with only those wounds.
That was Quatre, though. Some higher power always seemed to have it's
hand over him.
"Thank you for coming to my rescue," Quatre was saying as he finished
putting on his clothes.
I pulled out a can of hair color and stood behind him as I began
spraying his bright hair brown. "Duo and Heero are undercover at a
school near a target site. I'm not sure where Wu Fei is." I didn't
mention that I had taken the distress signal and never informed any of
them about it. There hadn't been any question that I would be the one
to rescue him.
Quatre was frowning thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about things,"
he
said. "I don't think we can win this war without working together.
Chang... I think he will be the greatest challenge. He has so much
anger... so much distrust."
"He's arrogant and he thinks he's stronger than everyone else," I
growled as I finished and stashed the can back into my pack. "You
can't win wars alone, though, so I agree with you."
He turned and smiled at me and I handed him brown contacts. He took
them, looked them over curiously, and then put them into his eyes. I
looked him up and down, gauging the success of my subterfuge. Plain
clothes. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Does it sound ridiculous to say that
none of that mattered? Quatre... glowed. Whatever made a man who he
was oozed from his skin and was there to be seen. I pulled out a hat,
put it on him, and pulled down the brim.
"Think about cleaning latrines," I suggested, "and don't meet
anyone's
eyes."
I looked around the room, at the sealed tubes, and shivered, wondering
if sickness was even now infiltrating my body. Qautre's hand squeezed
my upper arm and I looked down at him. "I know," he said. "I've
had
days to think the same thing."
I grimaced and said gruffly, "Let's go. It's night time and I think it
will be raining soon. That will give us cover."
There wasn't a pass code to leave the building. We went through
decontamination and slipped into the darkness outside.
Of course there was trouble. I kept out in front, as if I was the
superior officer, but didn't do anything that made either of us
noticeable. Soldiers are naturally suspicious, though. That's what
keeps them alive. When a captain stepped into my path, frowning at us
both, I had my story ready.
"You're awfully young," the man grunted. "What are your orders
and
who's your commanding officer?"
"We're regrouping with the 16th," I told him. "We were routed
two days
ago. Most of the unit was taken out. Lt. Myers decided to reassign
what was left of us. We're heading for the 12th. I was hoping to catch
a transport there."
I had explained our raggedness, our youth, and our cover convincingly.
The 16th had indeed been nearly wiped out by a rebel offensive and
they had been mostly new recruits.
The Captain was sympathetic. He clapped me on the shoulder, squeezed,
and told me, "Go to the station. There are several transports leaving
within the hour. Tell them Captain Angelo gave you orders to take one
of them to where the 12th is stationed."
"Thank you, sir," Quatre said and sounded so weary and grateful that
it
was hard not to turn and make sure that he was all right.
"Children shouldn't be fighting in wars," the captain growled, "but
these are desperate times."
"We're honored to fight," I told him with a salute.
"They all are... and then they die," the man sighed, rubbed at his
face,
and then nodded as he regained his composure. "Carry on, soldiers."
I saluted him again and Quatre and I moved past him. Only then did I
glance back. Quatre's face looked tight and I had to wonder if he'd
been afraid.
"It's harder to kill them when you know that they are like that, just
men with hearts like anyone else," Quatre said so softly that I almost
couldn't hear him. His shoulders firmed, though, and he added, "But we
all chose to fight. There are no innocents here."
"No," I agreed. I had never been innocent.
Quatre needed safety and rest. I knew that I couldn't hope to get him
far. The transport was a temptation, but too much of a risk. I might
have chanced it alone, but Quatre was too much of an unknown factor.
"Shuttle," Quatre whispered and pointed to where one was blasting
off
from a makeshift landing strip. I eyed him and he explained, "It's
much easier to hide with cargo than with other men."
"Security on a landing strip is tight," I informed him.
"On a regular one, perhaps," he replied and I thought it over as
we
moved cautiously through the crowded streets.
I decided to check out the possibility. When we reached the 'airstrip',
we did find it very crude and full of security holes. There were many
units working together to load and unload equipment. We were in a
prime weapons manufacturing town. It had been on my target list,
Quatre's as well, and the reason why he had been there in the first
place. It gnawed at me that we were going to have to leave it unscathed.
"I'm coming back to finish what I started," Quatre vowed and I saw
a
fierce light in his eyes that surprised me. His defeat hadn't
frightened him, it had only made him more determined to take out his
target. "I'm bringing Sandrock with me. They can't be allowed to keep
operating."
He had been in route, undercover as a regular citizen, when his
transport had crashed. He had insisted on scouting the target, wanting
to know how best to avoid casualties and still destroy the weapons
factory. I would have done the same, only for different reasons. I
would have scouted the target for the best way to destroy it. My
mercenary 'family' had never cared too much about casualties when it
had come to taking out targets, and I was of the same mind. I avoided
civilians when I could, but I did what had to be done regardless. Wars
aren't won by being soft.
I mulled over our options as we crouched by a sagging fence covered in
vines and weeds. The rain began again and water dripped down the
collar of my uniform. "No, " I decided and began walking away from
the
strip. It was simply too risky.
"Trowa," Quatre began to object, but then he was quiet and I imagined
him chewing on his lip. He said at last, "If we go on the roads, there
will be checkpoints. If we stay, they will eventually find us in one
of their sweeps. What other option is there?"
"We'll walk along the creek," I told him and smiled, knowing that
he
was confused.
No one likes to guard sewage. Like the containment building, there is a
fear and disgust that makes a man avoid it even when it's in his best
interest not to. I knew that earlier hits to the town had damage
several city sewage lines. The pipes had been repaired, but nothing
had been cleaned up. There simply wasn't the manpower for it. The
creek had taken the brunt of the spillage. It was a stinking disaster
that could probably have been set on fire with a well placed match.
When Quatre first smelled our destination, he quickly guessed my plan.
He ripped a bit of his shirt and tied it around his face to cover his
nose, as he gave me a frown of displeasure. He didn't complain,
though, or question my judgement. He wasn't a stupid man.
I covered my own nose with my military kerchief. "Eight miles," I
told
him, "and then another stream cuts into it. There should be enough
cover to keep us hidden from fly over drones, but I can't say whether
they have DNA sensors." Set to detect men, the 'sniffers', were a good
alarm system for areas where men were reluctant to go.
We looked down into the fetid creek. The sides were steep and high,
made even more dangerous by the rain. We would have to be careful, or
mud and rock might slide down on top of us. Once down in the water,
escape would prove difficult.
Quatre slid down first, his arms held out for balance. The man was
graceful and well coordinated. He landed with a plop in the ooze and
it came knee high. He stared down at it with a sick expression and
then looked up to follow my progress down. I was far more awkward,
despite my acrobatic training. The mud and rock were slippery and
unforgiving if a man stepped wrong and I couldn't help fearing that I
might send half the creek bank down onto Quatre's head. When I finally
stood beside him, he chuckled.
"God is testing us," Quatre said.
"Not punishing us?" I wondered with a raised eyebrow.
"It can be the same thing," Quatre replied and I found a grim smile,
appreciating that outlook on life.
We didn't talk after that. The smell was incredible and we concentrated
on simply moving through it, hoping that the fumes wouldn't kill us
before we reached the end of it.
I was almost carrying Quatre by the time we reached the fork. His
strength had given out and we were both feeling ill and light headed,
a sure sign that we were being poisoned. When I saw the rush of clear
water flowing into the sewage up ahead, I almost believed in Quatre's
god. When he managed to make it there without me carrying him
completely, I wanted to offer up some thanks as well.
We cleaned off in the clear water and then climbed, shivering and weak,
up onto the top of the bank under the cover of overhanging trees and
bushes. It was good to just lie on our backs and breathe somewhat
fresh air. It shocked me when Quatre pressed himself close to my side
and threw an arm and a leg over me. His face buried into my neck and
my heart almost stopped... until he said softly in my ear, teeth
chattering, "Freezing."
I shuddered and felt the bite of disappointment, but I didn't spurn his
embrace, whatever the reason for it. I half turned on my side and held
him against me. Let him imagine that it was something different, I had
a reason to hold Quatre Winner. When his breath evened out, I knew
that he was asleep, his face still nestled along my neck. I couldn't
afford the luxury. I had to keep watch for us both until he had
recovered enough to travel again.
on to chapter two