How Will You Remember this War?

The pain in his side from the wound seemed to have faded as Quatre watched Heero's Gundam fly victoriously out of the explosion. His green-blue eyes sparkled as he uttered "I get it now, Heero is the heart of outer space." (***author's note-that line is CORNY!!!!!! Fire those stupid writers for making poor little Quatre say something so idiotic!***) He looked to all the other Gundams, thinking of the pilots inside. Mainly his best friend, Trowa. Trowa had helped him to his beloved Sandrock when Dorothy had stabbed him in the fencing match. He thought about Dorothy, and those tears, her first tears in so long. He thought about Heero and Relena. He thought about Duo and Wufei. He thought about all of them, and how strong they were. And then he thought the most unperceivable thought to ever cross his mind-"We won."

"We won! Yeeeeeeeeeehaw!" Duo's boisterous voice cheered over the communication radio. Quatre smiled. He could see Duo throwing his arms up in a victory dance in his Gundam, but the pictures were getting a bit blurry.

"This battle is over," said Wufei. Quatre thought that he could see Wufei smiling.

Heero had fully emerged from the blast and was beginning to approach the other Gundams.

"Heeeey buddy!" Duo howled, but Heero zoomed right past. Quatre cracked a small smile as he heard Duo mutter, "After all that he still thinks he's to good for us."

"No," Quatre said, surprised at how strained his own voice was, "he's just eager to see someone."

All of the other pilots were silent. The Arabian boy knew that they were each thinking of their own "someone." He wondered foggily if he had a someone. Dorothy? No, seeing him again would just cause her pain. She couldn't be his someone. Then who? He let out a long sigh and slumped in his pilot's seat. It was getting cold, and his side was starting to hurt again.

"It's over, it's over, it's over," he whispered to himself through clenched teeth. He pressed his hands to the wound, eyes clamped shut, with his forehead against the front screen, and whispered that to himself, over and over again. His blonde bangs were soaked with sweat. "It's over it's over it's-" his voice cracked.

"Well y'all, I'm off, it's been a pleasure doin' business with ya! Hilde baby, here I come!" called Duo as he rocketed away in Deathscythe Hell.

"It's over it's over it's over..."

"Maybe we shall meet on another battlefield someday. Let us hope that we are to fight as allies again!" called Wufei. Quatre thought he heard Nitaku fly off into space.

"It's over it's over it's over..." Quatre trailed off. He slowly raised his face. In the midst of the lonely black space was Trowa in his Heavyarms. He waited for Trowa to speed off, back to his someone, but Heavyarms did not move.

"T-Trowa..." Quatre rasped.

Trowa popped up on the video screen. "Yeah Quatre?"

"Trowa, Katherine's waiting for you..."

"I know, and I'll return to her, but first, you need to get to a colony."

Quatre smiled, shook his head. But he knew he couldn't refuse. His hands and feet were to cold to operate the controls, and he was hanging limply in the harness. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to get rid of that foggy feeling that had suddenly came over them. Soon things would start getting dark and he would be floating in his own lonely, black space. Lonely, that's what he was afraid of. He didn't want to let himself slip away; he didn't want to be lonely.

"Hold tight, we'll get you there in good time," said Trowa. He piloted Heavyarms around behind Sandrock. Heavyarms held Sandrock and propelled off to the colonies.

The foggy feeling had moved from Quatre's eyes to his brain. He looked out at the stars whizzing by so fast. Why were they going so fast? Didn't Trowa want to look at the stars?

"Trowa, slow down, I want to see the stars," he muttered.

"There's no time, we need to get you help right now."

"But it's over Trowa, it's over...it's over..." Quatre's voice faded in his throat, and his own black space began to swirl around him.

"Master Quatre! Master Quatre!"

Quatre shook the blackness out of his head and looked up. It was Rasheed, leader of the Moguinak Corps. Quatre smiled faintly, he had all but forgotten about them.

"Master Quatre, requesting permission to return home."

"Home," Quatre muttered under his breath. "Permission granted. Goodbye, my friends."

"Goodbye, Master Quatre. Good luck."

Rasheed disappeared from the screen, and he watched the Moguinak suits fly off into black.

"Do you think we'll see them again?" Quatre asked sleepily, after some time.

"See who again?" "Them. Heero, Duo, Wufei, the Moguinaks, them." "Maybe, it depends on the future circumstances, and how we all remember this war," Trowa said in his usual tactful tone.

"How will you remember this war?"

There was a long pause. And then-"I think I will remember it as a beginning for my life. I've met so many people, and I've found a home in that circus. Now I can go back and start my life."

"Oh."

"What about you?"

Quatre was getting a little irritable. He wanted to sleep.

"Oh I don't know. I need to think about that a while to answer." "What are you going to do when you get back?" "I think I'll try and find some of my sisters. I'll have to stay with one of them for a while. Maybe I'll catch up on how the family business is going. I'll probably get stuck in an office..." he muttered. He liked hearing the sound of his own voice trailing off.

"Do me a favor and stay awake until we reach the colony, and then you can sleep. But right now just try to stay awake."

Quatre sighed and nodded. Then said "Okay." He resolved to watch the stars go whizzing by. He wished Trowa would slow down so he could get a good look at them.

"Quatre? Are you still awake?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just watching the stars. Why can't we slow down?"

"We can't. Try talking, talk for a while, that will help you stay awake."

"I don't know. What do you think it's going to be like for us Gundam pilots? I mean, how do you think the people are going to think of the Gundams?"

"The people are thankful for the Gundams now. We have saved both the earth and the colonies from disaster. I doubt that the people will know us, us being the pilots, because there really have not been any pictures of us outside of our suits in the media."

"Except for Duo," interrupted Quatre.

"Yes, but that was not a very good picture. The people are not very likely to recognize us. They will simply remember the Gundams as heroes."

"But we aren't heroes."

"What makes you say that?"

"We've done so much wrong. I've-" Quatre's voice caught in his throat. He could feel the hot tears in his eyes. He had done so much wrong, especially while on the Zero System. Flashbacks of that horrible madness came back to him, and he couldn't fight it anymore. Tears poured down his face and his chest and shoulders racked with the light sobs.

"It's over it's over it's over it's over it's over it's over...it's over...it's over...it's over........."

The sobs soon proved painful. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, concentrating just on his breath. After a moment, the sobs had settled in him, although tears were still rolling down his face. Yet they too stopped. He just focused on breathing. Getting the air in, letting it out. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. That was the only thing in his mind. That and the pain. But every controlled breath in and out pushed the pain down again. He didn't know how Trowa thought that he could possibly fall asleep like this. Breathe in breathe out it's over, breathe in breathe out it's over, breathe in breathe out it's over.

"Quatre. Hey, Quatre, are you okay?"

Quatre didn't answer. If he did, if he took the precious energy to respond, then maybe the pain might overcome him.

"Quatre! Hold on, we're almost there. I can see the colony just ahead. They've opened a port for us. Hang on. I'm going to maneuver so that I slide in on my back. You won't get as much of the force that way, but it's going to be a rough landing."

Quatre fell back on the seat as Heavyarms spun around. He felt the crash as Heavyarms's back met the floor of the port. He heard Trowa's groan as the two heavy machines slid to a halt. Quatre was about to release his breath, but it was not over. More violent jostling came as Heavyarms crawled out from under Sandrock. And then Sandrock was on it's back. Quatre released his breath. They were at the colony, and now he could rest. That was all he wanted, just to lie there in his dear Sandrock, and rest. He let out a deep sigh and settled down for a long good sleep. There were some noises outside, some voices calling. Only natural, he thought to himself, the door to the port was closed and people could walk around. He thought he heard Trowa's voice, but it was hard to tell. He let out one last sigh and began to doze off. The blonde didn't open his eyes when he heard people clomping on Sandrock's chest cavity, nor when the bright light shined on his face as the hatch to the cockpit opened. Not even when the men undid his harness. Only when the two of them began hauling him up by the armpits did he open his eyes a little. His head lolled on his chest, and he watched his feet dangle in the cockpit. "Goodbye, dear, dear Sandrock."

"How're we going to get him down?" he thought he heard one of the men ask. He silently laughed at their rather awkward predicament.

"Here, I got him," the other one said. Quatre closed his eyes again as he felt himself being leaned against one of them. "Hold him for a minute. Let me get him down and you go to the other one," said the larger of the two men. The larger man bent down, took him by the waist, and before he knew it, Quatre had been slung over the large man's shoulder like he was nothing.

"Careful with his left side," he thought he heard Trowa call.

He clenched his teeth as he was bumped and jumbled about. He opened his eyes when he was sure they were on the ground. He watched the back of the man's heels. He was wearing black shoes. And grey pants. And black socks. The ground was white metal. Blood, his own blood, splattered on the ground, leaving a long, thick, crimson trail. It was bizarre for the young Arab. Watching part of himself being spilled so profusely on the clean floor of the colony. He heard the man grunt as he bent down, allowing Quatre's feet to touch the ground, then laid the boy out on a stretcher. The slight impact of hitting the stretcher caused the wound to give a sudden throb, and Quatre made a grab for it, but the man caught his wrists and held them at his sides until he didn't struggle anymore. He turned his head and looked up at the man, who quickly looked away, still holding his wrists to his sides. The shoulder and entire right side of the man's shirt was soaked with blood.

"There is no need to restrain us like this," Trowa said. Quatre tilted his head back as far as he could, to see Trowa with his arms being held behind his back by the smaller of the two men.

"Sorry, it's just standard procedure. Just in case. You know how it is," replied the smaller.

"Yeah, sorry to have to do this to you guys, but with all the recent happenings you just can't be to careful," said the larger, still not looking at Quatre.

The apologies sounded sincere, but neither of the men appeared to have any intention of loosening their grip.

"An ambulance is coming," said the larger to Trowa, in what seemed like an attempt to further apologize for the restraining.

"Yeah, and they should be able to confirm your identities," chimed in the smaller.

"I'm telling you, these precautionary steps are no longer necessary. The war is over. The White Fang and Romafeller have been destroyed. There is peace between the colonies and earth," Trowa insisted, calmly. "We are aware of that, but it has not yet been officially released. We must wait until we receive official word that these measures are unnecessary. Those orders should come in sometime tonight."

"I see."

The single minute before the sirens came within hearing range seemed like an eternity for Quatre. An eternity floating in a cold, nauseous dream, with only the throbbing of the wound and the strong grip on his wrists to bring him back down. The wail of the sirens grew louder, until Quatre, straining to lift his head up, could see it over his own feet. The effort was too much, and he dropped his head, closed his eyes and panted. He heard the ambulance doors open, he heard someone get out and walk past him to where Trowa was being held.

"Identity confirmed. He's a Gundam pilot, let him go," commanded a woman's voice. This time three sets of footsteps approached him.

"Quatre Rababa Winner?" the female voice asked, sounding gentler then before. Quatre opened his eyes and looked up at the woman. He had never seen her before in his life, but she seemed nice enough. She peered down at him, with a sheet of paper in her hand. She would stare at him, regularly with pity in her eyes, and then consult her paper every so often. She finally nodded and said to the large man "His identity checks, let him go."

The man hastily let go of Quatre's wrists. Only then did he look down at him. He gave the boy a faint smile, then moved aside.

"His identity checks!" called the lady to the ambulance, "Let's get rolling!"

Immediately, three paramedics leapt out of the back of the ambulance and grabbed and end of the stretcher. They turned it around so that the top of his head was facing the ambulance. Over his feet, he could see Trowa and the men standing. He was quickly moving away from them. With his last strength he called "Goodbye friend Trowa. I hope I shall see you again someday."

Trowa smiled and said "Goodbye Quatre."

And Quatre's own black space finally overtook him.