The little shuttle rounded some piece of debris, some large metal, and Quatre almost screamed. He could see him. So close... His hands were shaking on the controls, and he seized himself with iron control. He could not lose control. Not now. Not when he was so close. The little speck on his viewscreen grew, and grew, even as the counter raced towards zero.
Finally he was there, and his hands shook despite his best efforts as he maneuvered his craft in close at an agonizingly slow pace, hitting the switch to extend the magnetic arm and drew its burden back into the safety of the airlock.
It seemed the airlock had never taken so long to pressurize before. The counter hit zero as the pumps worked. Quatre had never cut the com; he heard when the steady, even breaths became gasping and labored, and he heard when they stopped. He tore open the little door as soon as the light blinked to green. The suit was crumpled on the floor of the little space, and when Quatre gripped the suit's arm to drag it out onto the cabin's floor, it burned his hand with the cold.
Panic, real, chemical panic, was burning away the last of his control, and the seals blurred in front of his eyes, slipped under his shaking hands. It took him seconds to get the helmet off -- seconds to open that cold, flexible coffin. Too long.
"Trowa!" he screamed, all thought of control gone, crying now. "Trowa!"
There was no answer and in a last desperation, Quatre dragged the still form into his lap, draping the body over his knees. His hands seized Trowa's head and tilted it back, and he sealed his own mouth to that still one, kissing him one last time even as he tried desperately to breathe life back into him.
There was a twitch under his hands, and then he broke away and he was laughing and crying at the same, because Trowa was breathing. Breathing, alive!
He kissed him again, and then he was talking, babbling out all the things he hadn't let Trowa say before, all the things he had been fighting against during this journey so he could do what he had come to do. Because if he had let them overwhelm him, then he might have wasted precious seconds and that was all it would have taken. He had saved him only by seconds.
Re: Seconds & Second Chances
Date: 2006-02-21 04:06 am (UTC)The little shuttle rounded some piece of debris, some large metal, and Quatre almost screamed. He could see him. So close... His hands were shaking on the controls, and he seized himself with iron control. He could not lose control. Not now. Not when he was so close. The little speck on his viewscreen grew, and grew, even as the counter raced towards zero.
Finally he was there, and his hands shook despite his best efforts as he maneuvered his craft in close at an agonizingly slow pace, hitting the switch to extend the magnetic arm and drew its burden back into the safety of the airlock.
It seemed the airlock had never taken so long to pressurize before. The counter hit zero as the pumps worked. Quatre had never cut the com; he heard when the steady, even breaths became gasping and labored, and he heard when they stopped. He tore open the little door as soon as the light blinked to green. The suit was crumpled on the floor of the little space, and when Quatre gripped the suit's arm to drag it out onto the cabin's floor, it burned his hand with the cold.
Panic, real, chemical panic, was burning away the last of his control, and the seals blurred in front of his eyes, slipped under his shaking hands. It took him seconds to get the helmet off -- seconds to open that cold, flexible coffin. Too long.
"Trowa!" he screamed, all thought of control gone, crying now. "Trowa!"
There was no answer and in a last desperation, Quatre dragged the still form into his lap, draping the body over his knees. His hands seized Trowa's head and tilted it back, and he sealed his own mouth to that still one, kissing him one last time even as he tried desperately to breathe life back into him.
There was a twitch under his hands, and then he broke away and he was laughing and crying at the same, because Trowa was breathing. Breathing, alive!
He kissed him again, and then he was talking, babbling out all the things he hadn't let Trowa say before, all the things he had been fighting against during this journey so he could do what he had come to do. Because if he had let them overwhelm him, then he might have wasted precious seconds and that was all it would have taken. He had saved him only by seconds.
~owari~