Memories

Memories
by CJ May
aka Drakon Sword


Pairing: 1x3
Warning: Extremely Angst, Blood, Yaoi, and a Lemon
Rating: NC-17 to R
Disclaimer: I unfortunately don’t own Gundam Wing. Damn!
Feedback: Yes. All wanted, and craved. Including flames.
E-mail: drakon_sword@yahoo.com
Summary: Trowa finds himself needing release, but Heetepsteps in and offers another sort of release to replace it.


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Trowa silently walked into the washroom, carrying his towel, and other bathing necessities. He, and the other gundam pilots finally had some time to themselves after, what seemed like thousands of missions. Everyone needed the time to relax, and fix their gundams.

Trowa had worked on his all day, and was feeling tired. The missions had drained him, though like every other emotion, or weakness he hid it behind his mask of indifference. He hid a great deal behind the mask. A great deal.

He hid the painful, physically and emotionally, memories, the fears, the longing, the sorrow, the grief. All behind the mask. A mask, a shell he created to guard himself from others. Emotion was a weakness, no matter what Heero said. It made him feel vulnerable, which undoubtably, was a weakness.

It was late. He had stayed out, finishing some work on his gundam, Heavyarms. He worked right through the dinner Quatre had prepared. Quatre had come out, worried, and Trowa knew Quatre could sense all his pain. Quatre was his good friend, but Quatre scared him. Scared him because he knew. He could see, and feel his pain. The pain he tried to hold dormant. Also because he didn’t want to hurt Quatre with his pain so he stayed away, without being rude.

It was around midnight, or early morning. Whatever it was, Trowa was beginning to feel tired, and decided to go crash for the night, after a shower. He liked long, hot showers, and having them early morning, or late at night was the only time so he wouldn’t get disturbed.

He put the toilet seat down, and rested his towel on it as he undressed. He put his shampoo, and soap in the shower as he turned it on. Trowa then searched his jean pocket for the item he put there.

With an impassive face he pulled out the gleaming, silver razorblade from a x-acto knife. The blade was clean but, Trowa knew that it was stained with blood, the blood he had cleaned many times. His blood.

Trowa stepped into the shower, and let the warm, close to bowling hot, water sear his tired, and strained muscles. He rested the blade on the side of the shower, and went to washing his hair, and slim, hard body.

When Trowa was all washed, he leaned against the shower wall, letting the water to continue rinsing his skin. His skin was used to the burning sensation of the water, though the grease and grim of his memories, and pain, was still there.

He could almost feel the cold, grimly hands touching him. The cruel words in his ear. The pain, and betrayal he felt. The slime, and shame. The pain was too much. It was so painful, he shut himself away. Not letting anyone close. Becoming an introvert, and studied others. He hid a small, scared boy, behind the cold, indifferent, and seemingly confident shell. Trowa was still caring, and considerate of others’ feelings because he didn’t want others to suffer as he did. He wanted them to be happy. That was why he fought as a gundam pilot. He didn’t deserve happiness. The people, the colonies, the earth did. Not him.

He picked up the razor blade, and stared at it like it was the first time. Almost curious, like a young, naive child. He didn’t want to die a coward. Cowards commit suicide. Besides where would that leave the colonies, and all the people if one gundam pilot decided to off himself in the shower? On the battle field it was accepted, and often needed. It was a sacrifice. Suicide was killing yourself without a real reason. Suicide was selfish. Cutting . . . it was different.

Trowa had locked himself away so well that he often wondered if he could feel again. Cutting was an escape. A reality. A truth. The pain made him feel. Feel pain. The pain he deserved, had, and craved. It also released the memories. I overcame the pain, sorrow, and grief.

He cut down the inside of his forearm, vertically about 2 inches long. The blood welled up around the wound immediately. It slowly ran down his arm as the water splashed on it. It slowly dropped to the floor, and then pooled at the drain as the water washed it down.

Trowa could feel the pain, which pleased him. He could feel. He could see the thin, pinkish scars of the other cuts. He quickly added another. Across the backside of his arm, horizontally. Again the blood ran down the drain, as the pain hit. He could feel the pain, sorrow, and grief leave him. Though the longing remained. For what? He never knew.

He made the same cuts on his other arm, and let the water run down them, to wash it away. This was why he wore long sleeved shirts. It hid the scars, and marks. Though he had only started a little before becoming a gundam pilot. Gundam pilot 03, Trowa Barton.

Funny. He had four cuts. One for each of his companions. He stared at the four cuts as the bled. The water that pooled his feet was stained with a rose colour. He clenched his fists, and watched as the blood welled up again to run down.

Pilot 05. Chang Wufei. Nakatu. Justice. He lived with a great sense of justice, and honour. An honourable warrior, who was a great ally. Stiff, yet loyal, and truthful. Someone to talk to for an opinion.

Pilot 04. Quatre Raberba Winner. The empathic. So soft, and loving. He saw no evil, only mistakes. He only saw the good in everyone. He was a kind hearted person. A shoulder to cry on. If he could cry.

Pilo. Du. Duo Maxwell. The god of Death. Shinigami. Strange how the god of death was optimistic, out-going, fun, and forever positive. A forever ball of joy, and overabundance. Though could be terribly irksome. The complete opposite of himself. Duo the joker, kind, and caring person. Someone to go to for a laugh. If he could laugh.

Pilot 01. One he thought he could relate to, instead he respected and admired him. Heero Yuy, the cold, and calculating perfect solider. So far from the truth. Heero could feel. He followed his emotions. The emotions he had, and Trowa lacked. Heero seemed cold but, cared, and felt more than anyone. Maybe as much as Duo did. You could read it in his deep prussian blue eyes, if you knew where to look, and looked deep enough.

Pilot 03. Trowa Barton. The man he replaced. Who he was now. Trowa Barton. A nobody. A boy who couldn’t feel. A boy who didn’t deserve anything. A dirty, used, and abused boy that was raised without a name, purpose, or any dignity. Absolutely nothing.

Trowa glared at his reflection as he got out of the shower, shutting it off. He looked back at his reflection and say a boy with a long, wet bang of mustard brown hair covering half of his face with dull, green eyes on a long face. Just another pretty face. That was what the men had said. Another pretty face.

Quickly, and swiftly he dried himself off. He washed the cuts for they had already clotted. He threw on his jeans, and rubbed the towel on his hair to rid it of the droplets. He then went to combing his hair, and brushing his teeth to go to bed, though he didn’t really feel tired anymore. He felt empty.

Silently he walked up to his room, not to disturb the others who were sleeping. He shut his door, and turned on his lamp, letting the small amount of light, coat the room. He looked at his cuts again, and felt that the void of nothing was replaced with a dull pain. Though he knew it would be temporary.

He then noticed that one of the cuts started to bleed again. He checked it, and noticed that the cut was quite deep. Taking some tissue he blotted it, and held it to let it clot again before he could put on a shirt. Long-sleeved, of course.

As he sat on the edge of his bed with a tissue to the cut, a knock at the door interrupted the silence. Before he could answer, the door opened. He looked up to see Heero standing at the door. He was dressed in his usual spandex shorts, and green tank top. He stood stiffly, and unemotional.

Typical Yuy, thought Trowa, though he could see conflicting emotions deep in the prussian blue eyes of Heero.

“Can I help you Heero?” Trowa asked, calmly, and turning such a way that he hide his arms between his legs with a full view of Heero.

“What’s this?” He asked, bluntly holding up a shiny object. Trowa looked at the object, and narrowed his eyes to see it in the limited light. Finally recognizing it, Trowa inwardly kicked himself for his forgetfulness. He was careless.

Heero was holding his blood-tainted razor blade in his callused hand. Trowa didn’t change his mask. He never did. Though he was worried to what might happen. Heero couldn’t very well stop him from cutting himself, and Heero knew that. Then why did he even bother? Did he expect Trowa to explain why? Then again why was Heero awake so late? Or rather so early? Wait. This is Heero Yuy. Probably a mission.

“. . . . . a razorblade.” Trowa said dryly, stating the obvious. He noticed Heero’s fingers close around the blade, dangerously close to cutting them as Heero entered, and shut the door. His movements jerky, and without his usual grace, speaking volumes of what he was feeling. He was angry, close to being pissed. Why?

“That not what I meant.” Heero said, in his ever deep, nasal monotone voice of his. Trowa just looked at him impassively, and silently prayed that Heero would leave. What business was it of his? So, he cut himself to make sure he could feel, and to rid the memories and pain. Why did it matter to him?

“What do you mean?” Trowa asked, catching Heero’s infamous death glare. Trowa just stared back, without any feeling or emotion. Though he was curious to what Heero wanted, and was doing.

“I mean this.” Heero stated grabbing Trowa’s right arm with his left, that wasn’t holding the blade. The cuts were red but, clotted, and had already started to scab. Though Trowa could still feel the familiar ache.

“ . . . . . . . . . . . .” Trowa said nothing as he stared at Heero, and glanced at his arm, every so often as the minutes passed. The cut was still bleeding as the red liquid, that held his life, poured down his arm.

“Why?” Heero asked, quietly after at least five minutes of silence. Trowa just stared at him as more minutes passed without him answering. Heero just wouldn’t understand. “Why Trowa? Goddammit! Why?!” Heero demanded, harshly. Using his well-masked strength he pulled Trowa into a standing position.

Trowa stumbled but, ended up standing, and facing Heero. He looked at Heero without emotion but, he could feel longing. The longing he never understood but, was always there. Just Trowa would hide it deep inside but, for some reason Heero could open it, and let it flow like a fountain to fill him.

“Trowa, why? Just tell me.” Heero asked again, whispering. His prussian blue eyes burning with emotion as he stared at Trowa’s. Trowa looked down at the hand at Heero’s side. He was clutching the razor, and blood was dripping down onto the carpet.

“You’re holding the razor too tight. You’re bleeding.” Trowa stated, stiffly as the hand on his arm, clutched in response. Intensifying the pain in his arm from the cuts. While his other arm, which hang limply at his side, continued to bleed.

“So I’m not aloud to cut myself?” Heero asked, viciously. For some reason, which was beyond Trowa, Heero was angry, and seemed to care.

“W-what?!” Trowa asked, surprised. His eyes snapping to Heero’s again. Heero looked enraged, and wasn’t loosening his grip as Trowa tried to wrench his arm free.

“Why Trowa? Why are you cutting yourself?” Heero asked again, softer. Almost a whisper but, the demand was still there.

“It helps me feel, and rid the pain.” Trowa said, evenly though he was feeling overwhelmed. Heero’s grip released at little as Heero’s eyes softened.

“Trowa . . . . ?” Heero asked, slightly surprised yet silently asking for Trowa to explain. Trowa felt the longing, and began to tell the pain, and the emptiness. Heero tossed the blade on the bedside table without a thought as Trowa continued.

“Memories. Bad memories I hid away. Cutting releases the pain, fear, and grief. I hid them way, and became unfeeling. I cut myself to make sure I can still feel. It fills the void I emptied.” Trowa said, feeling a heaviness on his chest. He didn’t even glance at the blade.

“Trowa you can feel. You feel something for Catherine because you didn’t self dentate. She stopped you because you cared. You can feel without inflicting it.” Heero said, staring deeply into Trowa’s eyes. His cut, and bloody hand coming up, and gripping Trowa’s other arm. Their blood mingled, and Heero continued to watch Trowa as Trowa watched the blood. Trowa felt the walls start to crumble.

“I’m garbage Heero. I’m dirt. Just another pretty face. Something to use, and throw back.” Trowa said, looking away, and something foreign burning in the back of his eyes.

“No Trowa. You aren’t. You are so much more.” Heero stated, softly. His unharmed hand released his arm, and brushed the bangs covering half of his face. He then trailed his finger down a wet path down Trowa’s face. Trowa snapped his head to look at Heero,prisprised .

“. . . . . Heero-?” Trowa asked but was cut off as Heero leaned in, and brushed his lips against Trowa’s. Trowa’s eyes were wide with shock, and confusion, though he felt a warmness fill him. He could feel . . . . something. Something warm, and comforting.

“Trowa, you are worth more than you know.” Heero murmured warmly against his lips as he embraced Trowa, and brought him closer.

“What-?” Trowa went to ask but, was interrupted by Heero’s lips again. Heero’s lips cascaded down on his own. Warm, and caring, yet wanting. Trowa was still surprised but, returned the caress.

Heero’s tongue caressed his lips, and probed for entrance. Trowa was bewildered to o’s o’s affection, and how it was making him react but, he could feel . . . . he could feel?! Trowa was a loss. He had always admired Heero, and he often fancied himself having a slight crush on the pilot, but now he was sure that it was more.

Trowa leaned closer to Heero, as Heero tightened the embrace. Trowa could feel Heero’s warm, and strong arms wrap around his waist. Trowa opened his mouth to Heero’s probing, and persistent tongue. He could feel Heero’s tongue caress, and explore his mouth. Trowa duelled at little with Heero’s tongue to increase the pleasure, and the feeling.

Heero then moved down Trowa’s jaw, and neck, giving butterfly kisses. Trowa panted for breath. He could feel Heero’s erection poking his thigh. He blinked, and felt a slight heat creep up his face when he realized his own was doing the same to Heero.

Heero heatedly murmured something against his neck as Trowa let his hands wander to Heero’s chest. Trowa felt this warmth increase when he knew he was giving pleasure to his partner. Encouraged, Trowa pulled Heero’s shirt up, and caressed the stone-hard muscles with his smooth, thin hands. His long fingers trailing across Heero’s ribs. Trowa let his nose nuzzle Heero’s cheek. He wanted, he needed the touch. The affection. The . . . .love?

Heero pulled away slight, and lifted his arms. Understanding the silent demand, Trowa pulled the black, cotton garment off. Once Heero’s head popped out, Trowa could feel this strong emotion. Passion . . . .lust . . . desire . . . .or was it love? He didn’t know because he had never felt this emotion before, let alone any other, in a long time.

Heero’s hair was even more astray, and looked amazingly seductive. Like a siren from the water, come to seduce him. Trowa could see the prussian blue eyes full of warmth. Heero stood a few inches away from Trowa as they studied each other. Trowa could feel Heero’s breath warming his face. He could smell Heero’s masculine scent, and could feel his erection growing harder.

Being unusually impatient, he and Heero had to be the two most patient, he reached out, and touched Heero’s chest. Heero stood still and studied Trowa. He seemed to be judging Trowa’s reaction. He seemed to be needed to be reassured that Trowa wanted this. That Trowa felt something for him.

Trowa understanding, and realizing that he wanted this, pressed his body’s length to Heero’s. Heero still didn’t move but, his breath hitched, and his heart beat quickened. Trowa encouraged, tentatively pressed his lips to Heero’s neck. He heard Heero gasp but, didn’t move. Trowa let a small, satisfied smile ghost his lips, as he started to work his way up Heero’s neck. His long finger touching, and tickling their way up Heero’s arms. He could feel the muscles clench in response. Still nipping, licking, kissing, and caressing Trowa worked his way up Heero’s neck, jaw, to his ear.

“Heero . . . .make me feel. Fill the void.” Trowa whispered in the ear as he nibbled it. He felt the rumble of Heero’s moan before he attacked Trowa’s lips. Trowa returned the kiss without hesitation, and with passion he didn’t know he had.

Heero bacTrowTrowa to the bed, where gently pushed Trowa to lie back. Heero quickly followed, and straddled Trowa’s hips.

“With pleasure.” Heero said, hushed. He ran his finger ideally down Trowa’s chest to his jean button. Trowa wrapped his arms around Heero’s neck as Heero undid his jeans, and removed them, and the boxers Trowa wore. Thus, revealing Trowa’s erection. Heero smiled, and stroked the member, causing the usually silent man to moan, incoherently.

Heero then leaned down, and Trowa could feel his warm breath on his member, and groaned again. Heero then kissed the tip causing, a gasp to escape from Trowa. He slowly took the entire length in his mouth, smiling a little as Trowa called his name in surprise.

Trowa felt a wet, warm heat cover his member. He gasped as it moved, and licked at his length. He went to buck his hips into the heat, but Heero had, maddingly, placed his elbows on his hips. Using his strength his was keeping Trowa’s hips on the bed.

Trowa groaned, moaned, and gasped as Heero moved, and paid loving attention to his member. Trowa could feel himself stiffening. He could feel his body about to end the pleasure.

“He-Heero?!” Trowa called as he spasmed into Heero’s mouth. As Trowa gained his breath, he could feel Heero lap his seed up. Then crawling up to Trowa, and kissing him deeply, and passionately.

Trowa could taste himself on Heero’s lips, and felt Heero moving as they kissed. Trowa could hear Heero removing his own shorts, and parting Trowa’s legs. Heero kneeled between his legs, and Trowa knew what was next. He had been here before. The painful memories came again. The panic, the fear, and shame seemed to rise, even though he wanted this with Heero. He was enjoying it, and wanted it but, he still had the fear.

Heero seemed to sense this. He felt Trowa’s body stiffen, and clench. He pulled away, studying Trowa. Trowa could see the warmth in his eyes as he looked into his own. He felt himself relax as Heero massaged his thighs, and ran his fingers along his chest.

“It’s all right, Trowa. I’ll try not to hurt you.” Heero whispered, his eyes full of care as he placed a few kisses on Trowa’s chest.

“The bad memories . . . .they used me . . . .they . . . . the men. . . .raped me. . . .” Trowa stumbled out, ashamed, as he noticed anger arise in Heero’s eyes. Not for Trowa but, for the men that did this to him.

“I won’t use you Trowa. I want you.” Heero stated, continuing his menstruations. Trowa relaxed under Heero’s movements. He wanted Heero too. He needed Heero. He desired Heero.

Reaching out, Trowa wrapped his arms around Heero’s neck, and pulled Heero close. Heero seemed to see the emotion in Trowa’s eyes, and kissed him. Trowa returned it, and wrapped his legs around Heero’s waist, telling him, without words, that he wanted him too, and was ready.

He felt Heero sigh in relief. Trowa then felt a finger enter him. It was coated with a cool, slick liquid. Heero must have grabbed some lubricant while they kissed. Trowa felt a twinge of pain, but it was so unlike the pain in his arms, that was long forgotten. It was an exotic pain. Almost pleasurable, but demanded his body to relax as Heero stretched him.

Two fingers, then three. Stretching, massaging, and turning him on. There was still a slight pain but, Trowa wanted it. The fingers then left him completely. Trowa made a whiney moan in the back of his throat. Till he felt Heero enter him.

The pain was sharp. It was a familiar pain that ran up his spine, and then back down. Though unlike his past partners, Heero was patient, and stilled till Trowa wasn’t in as much pain. Trowa panted, and clung to Heero. The pain then receded as he felt Heero pull out, and thrust back in. The pain had left, being replaced with an undescribable pleasure.

Heero also panted over him as he made slow, and calculated thrusts not to hurt Trowa. Trowa could feel his member harden again with the pleasure. Trowa pushed back, and silently told Heero he was ready.

Once realizing this, he thrust into Trowa harder with a steady pace. As he did, he stroked Trowa’s hard erection again with his movement. Trowa moaned at the touch, and purposely making his muscles around Heero, tighten with his pleasure.

Heero gasped, then thrust deeper, and stroked Trowa’s member harder. It a steady, yet a fast pace the two connected, and increased the pleasure. All you could hear was, the two bodies moving, and the breathless gasps, and moans of pleasure being shared by each.

“Heero!” Trowa called as the pleasure took over. Since he had ejaculated earlier, Trowa was faster this time. His spasmed allover Heero’s hand, and his own stomach. Trowa’s muscles tightening Heero again as he stiffened. Heero was close, and continued to thrust till he finally came, calling Trowa’s name.

He called as he collapsed onto Trowa panting. Trowa was also gasping from breath. His body sticky, and sweaty. He vaguely considered getting up, and getting clean but, he scratched that. He liked the feel of Heero on him.

Trowa then felt Heero’s tongue lap up the liquid on Trowa’s stomach, and one his own hand. Trowa sighed, and looked at the bobbing chocolate brown head. He gently reached out, and ran his finger through the unruly locks.

Heero looked up at him, his eyes glowing with a strong emotion. Without hesitation he removed himself which made Trowa sigh in slight disappointment, as Heero crawled up beside Trowa, and pulled Trowa’s head onto his chest. He ran his fingers through Trowa’s hair, gently holding, and comforting the taller pilot.

Trowa curled to Heero’s side, and heat. He felt . . . content? Warm? Loved? Whatever it was he didn’t want to lose it, and cling to Heero. Heero also pulled him closer.

“Trowa . . . I don’t want you to cut yourself anymore. You don’t need to. You have me. Promise me. Promise me you won’t.” Heero said warmly, but demanding as continued to stroke Trowa’s hair as they sat in a long silence.

Trowa said nothing, and listened to Heero’s heart beat. Yes. He wouldn’t cut anymore. He had someone. He had someone who knew, and could reveal his emotions. He had found the real truth. The real reality. The healer. His soul. He could almost feel the memories truly disappearing replacing them with Heero. No more hurt, or betrayal.

“Trowa? Promise me.” Heero commanded lifting Trowa’s chin to look at him straight in the eyes. Emerald green met prussian blue.

“I promise. I don’t need to, anymore. I have you.” Trowa whispered, looking into the prussian eyes. A small, genuine smile came to Heero’s lips. He gently leaned down, and kissed Trowa’s.

“Good. Mission accomplished.” Heero stated, pulling Trowa close. Trowa frowned, and looked back up at Heero.

“Mission?” Trowa asked, incredulously, as he tried to pull out of the embrace. He felt a heaviness on his chest, almost like disappointment. Heero snapped his eyes open for he had closed them to rest. Heero didn’t let Trowa leave the embrace, and just tightened it.

“Hn.” Heero grunted, affirming it. He went to close his eyes again as Trowa continued to glare at him. “My mission was to bring you out, and show you that there was something better. To make love to you, and make you my lover. I think I have accomplished that, haven’t I?” Heero asked, opening one eye to study Trowa. Trowa gapped at Heero but, then smiled.

“Yes.” Trowa nodded, curling back into Heero, closing his eyes. His head under Heero’s chin, as Heero let his had stroke Trowa’s arm. Their blood had clotted, and the pain was a the past. Though the scars would stay forever to remind them of this night. In their memories, and on their skin.

“Good. Sleep.” Heero stated, and together they feel asleep. Together they had found happiness, care, and possibly . . . love?


~*OWARI*~