Focus On Me
A short by
Warning: This is NCS, weird, AU, and just generally a DARK-FICCY. >_< Involving 3 and 4. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!
Author's Notes: Like most of my fics I wrote just for the sake of writing and had no idea which direction it was going to head in or when it is going to end. I didn't expect this either.
Other Stuff: I'm sorry. I just am. ^^;;

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 though 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 was amazingly 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 embedded 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....


They were killing him.


Another tearing pain.


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.]


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