Focus on Me

Focus On Me

by Marie

Disclaimer: I don\'t own any of the characters in the following work of fiction. I am not making any profit off of this fic.

03/30/01

~~~

Whatever it was that they had pumped into him, it was
certainly working. Quatre frowned slightly, his dulled senses
fumbling to compute for him. They said they were going to... he
stared, suddenly fearful as the soldiers began to come forwards.
"Stay back!" He tried.

No such luck, a pair of hands collided against him, and then
another. The blond struggled briefly to get away, but with no
success.

"Let go of me." Quatre’s face twisted then
calmed. "Let go of me. This isn’t right. Let go."
His small delicate hands beat against the men, fighting for
leverage. There wasn’t any chance he was going to get
through though... there were too many of them. He winced slightly
as he was bodily lifted off of his feet, his shoulder hitting the
wall of the cell with a resounding thud. He was immediately
pressed against it, the dead weight of several soldiers keeping
him there, suffocating him.

Quatre gasped as the hands continued their dirty work. Now a
pair were carving their way down his chest, pulling the buttons
of his top out with considerable ease.

"Please. Stop it..." He couldn’t help but to
let the desperation flow through him, his thin hands clenching.
He caught glimpses of his attackers between his squirming -- all
of them were silent, their faces stony. No one was going to
listen to him. "Please..." There were several sets of
hands on his bare chest now, and one or two more behind him,
caressing his back, butt. Silently. [Please...] Another
set cutting into the top of his pants. Down them. Quatre bucked
suddenly, the touch of warm callused hands against his sensitive
skin startling him. Perhaps now would be a good time to scream,
he decided. He opened his mouth, but it was quickly covered with
another hand. Desperate eyes flickered towards the owner.

The soldiers face waazinazingly clear in comparison to the
others, eyes expressive, but sad. Quatre knew him. The shock and
horror caught him almost a badly as what the other soldier’s
hands were now doing with him. Trowa...

[Why...???] He tried to convey with his eyes. [Why??? I
don’t barely know you, but you are like me. Why would you
let them hurt me like this?] His mouth moved against the warm
hand against his face. [Why....]

The soldier’s other hand lifted to press a finger against
his own lips. [Shhh...]

Trowa... he was lost in Trowa’s eyes, that fact alone
causing him to escape his reality for a moment. They were so
sad.... they -- knew. They pleaded with him to understand.
Shhh... they can’t know. Quatre held that gaze for as long
as he could. Fear. Trowa knew. That was why he was sad
wasn’t it? [Trowa...]

He bucked again, his eyes tearing with pain. Something had
managed to penetrate... it hurt.... [stop it... please...!]
A plea formed again against the hand at his mouth. [PLEASE....]

Suddenly he was aware of Trowa’s movement, of the hand
falling away and suddenly being held across the shoulders. A hand
embedded in his hair, the top of the taller boy’s shoulder
appearing approximately where his mouth was. Muffling his silent
screams there, Quatre pushed his face in it. His body was moving
jerkily with something that wasn’t it’s own power, and
it hurt, but Trowa....

There was a voice whispering into his ear, and though he
couldn’t quite make out what it was saying, it was calm and
soothing. It was okay... he raised his head slightly, trying to
convince his teary vision to focus on the boy whose face was only
inches away. [Trowa... why are you... you’re not hurting me
are you? You’re just... you’re just holding me down.]

He cried, the tears wracking his jarring abused body. His
hands had been pinned and stilled, but he attempted to lift
them... to beat the other boy off of him at least. [Trowa...
please let me go....]

[No.] The grip across his shoulders tightened, but not
horribly so, and there was a tinge of desperation suddenly in the
softly murmuring voice. [Shhh...]

There was nothing else he could do. Obeying, Quatre buried his
face into Trowa’s shoulder, muffling his sobs conveniently
against the fabric of his uniform.

[...focus on me Quatre. It’s all right...] He said it
into his hair...

Quatre shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but he did
anyway, and he lifted his face to look at the other. [Focus...?]

Trowa’s tears had escaped as well, his face taunt as he
moved with the littler one’s body. Both arms had snaked
around his body, holding his shoulders in a way that was more
steadying than anything, not meaning to hurt. [... focus on
me.... focus on something other than....]

A particular painful jab caught him unawares and Quatre jerked
his head away, clenching his teeth in pain. [... Please...]

[Focus...] his head turned back. Wide-eyed Quatre inspected
his captor, his face.... his expressive eyes and the continually
mouthing of the lips that were only inches from his own. [Focus
on me.] Quatre’s eyes widened. He was going to....

[... I don’t even know you...!]

[It doesn’t matter. Focus anyway.]

He was so close.... Quatre let out a little gasp as the lips
closed on his then stilled. He breathed harshly into the
other’s mouth as the abuse continued and then when it got
too painful to stand he closed the gap, kissing the other more
out of a desperation not to scream than anything else.

He was surprised. Warm. Blissful. He felt sudden warmth tinged
with pain wash over his body, but he managed to pull his focus to
just the boy who held his upper body, the mouth against his, the
tongue that gently lapped his own. Struggling slightly he managed
to free one of his hands to wrap it around Trowa’s
shoulders, only to catch a glimpse of his fingers out of the
corner of his eye.

Bright Red.

He jerked away from Trowa’s mouth, gasping. A quizzical
look fleeted across the taller boy’s features. [Blood.
Blood, blood, I’m bleeding Trowa.] He struggled slightly,
attempting to sit up -- attempting to assess the damages. Except
that Trowa had too good of a grip on him to let him go and
instead it was the other boy who glanced over his shoulder. When
he looked back his face was grim.

[It’s bad isn’t it?]

[Never mind that. Focus on me...]

He couldn’t. The glimpse of blood had jarred him back
past even his drugged hazed mind, and now he could feel beyond
his head and shoulders. He jerked again, feeling another deep
tearing pain... but this time it was above his abdomen.

It wasn’t just rape. They were cutting him.

Letting a deep shuddering breath, Quatre struggled suddenly,
feeling other parts of him tear in his thrashing. He still
couldn’t see, Trowa having such a grip on him still, but he
knew it must be bad in the fact that his vision clouded so
suddenly. Fading....

[Trowa...]

They were killing him.

[Trowa!]

Another tearing pain.

[TROWA!!]

The other boy’s head was turned, yelling something at his
captors. He was rebuked. He shouted again, and yet again he was
turned down. Even though Quatre found his vision to be clouded,
he could still see the desperation on the other’s face when
the green-eyed boy turned back to inspect him.

[... focus...]

He broke. He couldn’t finish... The green eyes looked
forsaken, his face seized up.

He drew in a deep shuddering breath, forcing himself to
continue for him. [... on me.] Quatre mouthed. Gathering the last
remaining shreds of his rapidly leaving consciousness, Quatre
raised his face, pressing his trembling lips against a tear
stained cheek. [Focus on me, Trowa.]

~~~

END