Part 1
By tan
Warnings: AU, shounen ai, 3x4, 1x2, 5xH, sap, etc. To be expected from me.
Disclaimer: First time including one; bad me. I don't own Gundam Wing or any characters therein. I do sort of own the alternate universe plot. Sort of... That's it.
Summary: Quatre Winner has just been released from Arcadia Asylum, for claiming to be able to feel other people's emotions.
Dedication: This is dedicated to those that emailed me and begged me to finish this. I thought that it was just a lost cause. Don't know where my inspiration came from, but I'm glad it returned. I hope that I didn't disappoint! ^_^ MWahahaha.
PART 1
"Approved."
Quatre sighed heavily, and closed his eyes. They itched, and were probably bloodshot from a week of sleepless nights. A full week of hoping....
Hope is so draining, he realized sadly. No wonder father gave up on me....
"Release date is immediate. Congratulations Mr. Winner. Your days of healing at Arcadia are completed."
Something soft, and warm attached itself to Quatre's back, and arms circled his shoulders to clasp in tight fists before him. Quatre opened his eyes to look at the small, feminine hands that held so tightly... Iria sighed in his ear. A sudden and powerful wave of adoration, and of relief, flooded through her. Quatre stiffened in her hug.
I don't feel other people's emotions-- he thought fiercely, pulling from Iria's grasp so they could leave the tiny suffocating interview room. The lawyers would take care of the paperwork. Like Dr. Peerson said; it's just my imagination. If I take my medication, I'll be fine.... But the words were hollow, even in Quatre's mind. He sighed softly, and quieted the internal debates. Later, he assured them.
He walked past his empty, sterile white room with out looking in and continued down the hall to where none of Arcadia's patients had been in a long time. The greeting hall; your first glimpse of Arcadia, and your last of the outside world.
Iria didn't speak at first. She kept her iron grip on Quatre's arm and glared at their guide, who was trying to make polite conversation. The effect of the 24 year-old Winner's icy blue eyes was enough to cow the girl, and the rest of the walk was silent. They arrived at the securely locked double doors and were admitted after a lengthy check on each person's identity. Quatre's heart jumped eagerly when a flash of light erupted past the door. It was not fluorescent; It's sunlight-- he breathed deeply, still smelling antiseptic and cold linoleum, but focusing more on the new scent.
Grass, he realized. And sun and air-- he felt his eyes burn as the sun streamed directly into the windows that lined Arcadia's greeting hall. It was painful, and he couldn't help but squint and grimace along with his smile.
My first glimpse and I can't even look at it, he grumbled. Concern drifted up from Iria and a gentle pressure lighted upon his nose.
"Open your eyes, baby," she chirped. "I brought them especially for you-- hey, they look better than I thought they would!" She laughed as Quatre pursed his lips indignantly. He opened his eyes.
The light was dulled, but pleasantly, by a stylish pair of sunglasses. Quatre adjusted them and smiled his thanks. The lawyer erupted out of Arcadia's depths from behind them, and Iria entwined her fingers with Quatre's, giving him a good, long stare. She was radiant with happiness. Quatre shook his head lightly to rid himself of the thought.
"We're getting on the plane immediately," she told him bluntly, starting to walk again. "I know the airport is not a good place to start you out on people, but we want you home." Quatre followed her out the door and stared in fascination at the concrete. It was so bright-- he looked up, and halted. Iria tugged at his hand for a minute, then stopped.
Quatre lifted his face to the sky. The sky; it was blue. Blue, and not white with speckled tiles. No rectangular luminescence, but puffy white clouds. His smile came slowly, and stretched stiff muscles. I want to cry, and scream, or dance-- something! He laughed softly, and swung his hand in Iria's. He looked at the trees-- even the trees looked amazing, and they were the same ones he'd stared at through the narrow, barred window of his room.
"Uh oh," Iria giggled. "Rashid can't wait any longer he's coming up here to get you!" She laughed as Quatre's head swiveled around in time to be smashed against a broad, warm chest. He was lifted a disconcertingly high few inches from the cement walk way, and hugged to the point of squeaking. Rashid's booming voice rumbled in his chest before bursting out.
"Master Quatre!" He cheered. Quatre's teeth positively vibrated with the man's echoing baritone, and finally his feet returned to the earth, but Rashid held him in place with two giant hands, each the size of Quatre's head or bigger. Quatre offered a tremulous smile, feeling drowned in Rashid's contentment.
But it's not real, he began chanting silently. They're my emotions blown out of proportion.... Dr. Peerson said.... Rashid's sparkling brown eyes mirrored the sense of joy Quatre "detected"..... He sighed sadly, but masked it with a happy smile. It feels so real....
"You're still a little Master, but different," the man servant observed. He stepped back and eyed Quatre's taller, thinner and paler complexion.
Quatre was now 5'6", at a distressingly low weight, and had skin the color of Arcadia's white washed walls. The clothes Iria had brought for the interview were nice and clean, but her calculation at his adolescent filling-out had been incorrect.
A pale blue polo shirt hung loosely from neck to waist, and he had a belt notched to the last, keeping tan khakis from falling around his ankles. Iria had screamed at his appearance-- "You're half the size of when you came *in* here! And you're *built*!!" Quatre's creamy skin had flushed to a nice strawberry red at her wailing. When he'd begun to lose a lot of weight, the Doctor had offered him the chance to work out with weights, to keep him healthy and occupied. Quatre still lost weight, but he'd gained a finely toned abdomen, pectorals and biceps. Of course Iria had to poke them, sending Quatre into a nervous fit of giggles and hysteria.
"Matty and Olivia will *scream* when they see how much you've grown," Iria sneered. She carefully extracted Quatre from Rashid's possessive grip, and led him carefully down the slight sloping walkway to the parking lot, where a long black limousine idled, door open with a patient looking driver beside it. Quatre grinned at Iria's penchant for luxury, and stepped into the dim, soft back seat.
He squeezed to the farthest side and Iria followed him, Rashid crunching in last. The door shut, and a second later movement began. Quatre leaned back into the soft upholstery. It felt nothing like the rough detergent scented sheets of the asylum. And he could no longer sense the constant fear of the other inmates.
I was not mistaken in that, he thought darkly. I know I felt pain from them-- every day.... Iria patted his arm as Quatre sighed, and leaned against her. Her words.... were so comforting....
"We'll be home in a few hours." Neither of them bothered to glance at the institution's sign as the car passed.
Arcadia: The Home Where Healing the Mind, Matters.
Teased?: .... I wrote another fic about an asylum; Heero's mommy and all. But it wasn't nearly as interesting as this... ^^;;;;;; X_x;;