Moleman - Gee! This fic is the worst you've ever wrote!!

Lg - ;_; Non-yaoi, Angst, sad lemon, weirdness... You'll judge!
 
 

"Why are you here?"

She bowed her head, avoiding the piercing emerald gaze and inhaled sharply, before speaking softly.

"Because I... I thought he would be here." She breathed.

"How did you find this place?" Came the emotionless reply.

"I... They told me." She replied.

"They?"

"We're in Marseilles, everybody knows everybody and everything. People... Chat."

"Chat. Indeed. I guess we failed to conceal our identity, then." He mused.

"I don't know you. I just knew he'd be here." She murmured, obviously scared and embarassed.

"And why do you want to see him? I thought everything had been said." He retorted with an inquisitive stare.

"I don't know, I just..." She stammered.

"He's not here, anyway. He's probably out, somewhere. We're supposed to leave in a few hours." He said, his dispassionate tone concealing skillfully a growing interest for the young girl standing in front of him in the darkened hangar.

"Sorry... I..."

He didn't fail to notice the shimmering line outlining her pretty eyes. She was on the verge of tears. He could almost feel the tightening of her chest, and hear the sob that would wrack her fragile frame when she would give up and let the tears flow. She would be frail and lonely, crying crystal tears in a deserted plain.

"You wanted to talk to him. You're lonely, aren't you?" He asked coldly.

She raised widened and desperate eyes, and the long awaited tears began to roll silently on her pale cheeks. Lovely rivers of diamonds staining an opale. She was gorgeous when she cried.

"So-sorry..." She sobbed, her voice barely audible, cracking, failing, giving up, as her whole being did.

He watched silently. She was perfect.

She didn't notice him walking towards her with catlike grace, until she felt strong and lean arms encircing her, her cheek suddenly pressed aginst a soft and warm fabric. Her mind registered the sudden change in his attitude, but her body and her battered soul just didn't give a damn about who was providing warmth, as long it was there.

They held each other for what seemed like an eternity, his body following gently every curve of her body, swallowing her, swallowing her pain. She cried, she cried as much as could, in that warm and comforting embrace.

He smiled gently as he felt her absorb every drop of solace he could provide, her tears soaking through his turtleneck, dampening slowly his skin. He ran his hand through the honey blonde locks, marveling at how soft it was.

She snuggled further against his chest and suddenly froze, as she felt his fingers brush gently against the sensitive skin of her neck. She looked up at him, at this perfect stranger, and she lost herself in his gaze, mysterious, unreadable, bewitching.

She didn't move an eyelash, as he reached for her hair and freed it from its useless accessories, letting it fall, two blonde locks now framing her childish and delicate features.

"Beautiful."

She blushed a lovely shade of pink, at the compliment, her eyes glued to the soft lips whispering it, and getting closer to hers. Her eyelids fluttered before closing, as his brown bangs tickled her cheek, and he kissed her gently.

So nice.

He took hold of her small waist and pressed her against him, as he deepened the kiss. She didn't resist. It felt like love, like on TV shows, like in magazines, she felt loved, and -though she had a slightly blurry idea of tthe concept- desired. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tracing the sleek muscles she could feel under the dark fabric, and try to kiss him back, managing only to open her little mouth to his feverish one, offering an awkward pink tongue to an obviously skilled one.

It wasn't long before she had totally lost little control she might have had on the situation. She just kept her eyes closed and felt. His hands on her skin, pushing her shirt, his lips on her neck, his whole body pressing against hers, demanding a fusion she barely understood.

There was a moment, a brief moment where she wondered how she had ended half-naked, her soft buttocks pressing against the cold metal of what was undoubtedly a mobile suit. A brief moment where she wondered how and when she had allowed him to expose her small and delicate breasts to the icy air of a dirty hangar, or even to slide his hand between her thighs.

But he seemed to win over all her common thoughts.

He smile against the warm skin of her neck, his tongue pressing against the panic-stricken pulse throbbing there. She wasn't crying anymore. Her eyes were a little bit to dark, and her hair too, but she was perfect nonetheless.

He pressed her gently against the solid metal, until he was almost crushing her. He massaged mercilessly the tender flesh his fingers met, taking her higher and higher, to the point where he could feel her trying to escape the sensations he was creating.
She wouldn't win, however. He silenced her moan with a heated kiss and waited, the spasms he could feel racking her small frame feeding his own need.

Time stopped for an endless minute, as he let the warm wetness coat his fingers, and he watched a small tear of pleasure make its way on her soft cheek, adorning her dazed features.

"Do you see what I do to you...? Don't you want more?"

Something in her mind warned her. It told her she should worry at the tone in his mysterious voice, at everything that was happening. But he was so close, and she was so numb, so confused.

She registered a sort of pain, before his movements started to lull her. She couldn't tell if she was cold or hot, sad of happy. She felt drugged. Maybe the constant pounding against that cold metal hurt, maybe not. She wasn't very sure. His performance didn't last long, however, and soon her was nuggling against her like she had done before, and she could feel something run between their joined bodies.

Some part of her old self shrieked something about pregnancy, but she she didn't feel likeit was her talking. Just a nameless teacher-like voice. She didn't care at all, he was looking in her eyes again.

"Why are you always so mean to me?" He sobbed.

"Am... I?" She replied in a small voice, not knowing what she was saying.

"I love you... Why do you hurt me? Am I not nice to you?" He pleaded.

She was lost. Why was he crying? Wasn't she the one who had been emotionally and physically abused in a hangar, against a Mobile Suit? She should have cried, now she realized it. Why was he caressing her throat?

"Midii..."

It hurt. It hurt too much now. She closed her eyes for a minute, trying to regain her breath.

He looked down at the lifeless body at his feet. She had been beautiful a few minutes ago, but now, that just wasn't it anymore. She didn't look like her that much anyway.
 

Quatre smiled at all his friends, gathered around him. It had been so long since he had been able to see them. The happy faces comforted him in the thought that the war was definitively over. Damn, all this joy was a drug to him!

Heero stared quietly at the crowd, eyeing Trowa and his newfound girl, a certain Midii Une, "The girl of his dreams", according to Duo. Oh well, at least, this joyful reunion distracted his thoughts from the case he was currently working on : a wonderful gift of Lady Une.
There was a certain irony in thinking that he was working on the murder of the young Sylvia Noventa, when he had been the one asking her to kill him. He had actually been the last person to ask her anything at all, from the looks of it, but ten years had passed, and it was now impossible to date her death with precision, other than the fact that she had never turned sixteen.

He had to dig a bit, as a proof of his good will, but the case would be soon forgotten, anyway. Too old, no evidence, just... Nothing.

He shook his head silently as Trowa approached.

"So, how do you find her?" The green-eyed clown questioned.

"Perfect. Troubled past, but perfect."

Trowa cocked a surprised eyebrow at the remark.

"You know... I understand what displeased you at the time. Sylvia just wasn't blonde enough."
 
 

Okay. You get it. Poor Sylvia wanted to talk to Heero, and she found a mean Halloween-Trowa. That was creepy. Sorry!

R&R, pleez!!