Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, and am making no money off of this fic.
AN: Written for the April 19th Cocktail Party prompt found here: gwcocktailfriday . tumblr .com(/)post/184155198738/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-april. (Without the spaces and parentheses.)
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Vigilance by luvsanime02
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Nothing says a college frat party like a table covered in cheap beer cans and red soho cups and cigarette packs. Trowa sighs, looks around at all of the people he doesn't know and doesn't want to know, and decides that it's past time for him to leave.
Trowa only showed up in the first place in order to get Cathy to stop nagging him. Well, okay, Cathy doesn't nag. She just asks, during every call, if he's enjoying himself. Getting out of his room, meeting people, going to a party or two. Anything but spending all of his time alone.
The fact that Trowa prefers the solitude most of the time doesn't stop Cathy from worrying that Trowa's going to forget how to speak if he goes long enough without talking to someone else. Or forget to eat, if there's no one around to remind him.
She worries constantly about him just because Trowa collapsed from exhaustion once. And because he's the only family that Cathy has left, after their parents died last year. And because she loves him. And because he's going to school three hours away.
Trowa understands that Cathy's scared of losing him. Still, he offered to stay home and not go to this school, but Cathy wouldn't hear of it. He's got a scholarship there, so he's going to school there, and she'll just have to deal with her silly anxieties, in her own words.
Her worries aren't silly, in Trowa's opinion, but he does wish that there was some way of reassuring Cathy that he's going to be fine.
Well, he will be as soon as he gets out of this frat house. The music is too loud, the screaming, drunk people everywhere are too loud, and Trowa's really done with being here. At least he can tell Cathy that he tried, though. He attempted to socialize. It did not go well.
Trowa's in the entryway trying to find his jacket among the large pile of them when someone stumbles down the stairs. He thinks that she's just another drunk girl at first, and is planning on ignoring her, but then she sees him clearly about to leave and grabs his arm. Her grip is surprisingly tight.
"Get me out of here," she orders. Her voice is… shaky. That's when Trowa looks at her more closely.
She's Chinese-American, at least a foot shorter than him, and wearing a t-shirt and jeans, which is hardly a typical partying outfit, as far as Trowa knows. Her face is clear of makeup, except for some lip gloss, and while she's unsteady, her clothes don't smell at all like alcohol. She's also shaking all over, trembling just slightly, and Trowa frowns.
"Do you have a coat here?" he asks her, leaning down so that he doesn't have to shout over the thumping bass. She nods, and so Trowa helps her quickly sort through the jackets and coats until they find her jacket and purse.
Once they're outside, there are some more people out on the lawn. They're playing some kind of tackle football, Trowa guesses, but it mostly seems like an excuse to run into each other and knock people over onto the ground.
The girl flinches at a loud laugh, and pulls Trowa's arm around her shoulders like she's trying to hide, and Trowa wants to stop and ask her if she's alright, because she's clearly not, but she's walking very fast and so Trowa just lets her pull him along for now.
It's only when they're out on the streets and a block away that she stops abruptly and leans over, breathing loudly. After a moment, Trowa realizes that she's trying to make herself throw up, and he crouches down next to her.
"Are you okay?" he asks. "What happened?"
Maybe she'll tell him that it's none of his business, and that's fair enough, but Trowa doesn't want to just leave her alone when she's so obviously not okay.
She shakes her head and seems to give up on making herself puke, since she straightens back upright again. "I need to go to the hospital," she says. Her voice still sounds off, and Trowa really hopes this isn't what it looks like, but he just nods. If she wants to explain more, she will.
In the meantime, Trowa pulls out his phone and calls an Uber. It's faster in this area than trying to get a cab, and the buses have stopped running this late, and Trowa doesn't want her walking any longer than necessary. She's wrapping her arms around herself now, and Trowa can't help it when he looks her over more carefully. He's checking for torn clothing, and feels sick at the thought.
She notices his gaze, swallows, and shakes her head again. "I'm okay," she says. Trowa assumes that's meant to be reassuring, but it falls short. "Some asshole spiked my drink with something, but I realized after a few sips and managed to knee him in the balls and get out of the room. I just need to go to the hospital and get whatever this is flushed out of me."
That explains why she was trying to make herself throw up. Trowa feels relief, and he finally stands back up. "Okay," he says. "I'm glad you got away." He doesn't really know what else to say, and now the awkwardness is setting in. He's standing there on a street corner in the middle of the night with a stranger. This isn't exactly the kind of social situation that Trowa's good at. Trowa's not good at any kind of social situation.
Still, he can't just leave her alone. She's looking more unsteady by the second, and Trowa's honestly worried about her passing out before she gets to the hospital. She's also looking less shocked and more angry as time goes by. "That piece of shit," she mutters.
Trowa assumes that she's talking to herself, so he doesn't reply, even though he absolutely agrees with the sentiment. "Can I call someone for you?" he asks. Maybe she doesn't want a stranger around her right now.
She bites her lip and slowly shakes her head, though. "My cousin's going to school in LA," she says quietly. "I don't talk to the rest of my family anymore, and I don't really have any friends here yet."
Fair enough. Not like Trowa's one to talk. He nods. And then, because he belatedly realizes that he should have introduced himself about five minutes ago, sticks out his hand towards her. "I'm Trowa," he offers.
She smiles for the first time since he met her, and takes his hand. Her grip is strong. "Meilan," she offers in return. "Thanks, Trowa. I can't really see straight right now, and I'm getting really sleepy, so please don't let me pass out on the ground."
Trowa chuckles, even though it's not funny at all, but Meilan's laughing, too. The car arrives a minute later, and they get to the hospital in less than ten minutes. By that time, Meilan is almost completely unconscious.
Trowa's amazed that she held off on collapsing for as long as she did. He assumes that, usually, those kinds of drugs work incredibly fast. Then again, it was probably less than a minute after she was drugged that Trowa met her, and around five minutes after that when they were on their way to the hospital. Still.
Trowa's given a form to fill out, even though he knows nothing about Meilan except for her first name. He tells the hospital staff that she was drugged during a party, and no more questions are asked of him. Sadly, Trowa doubts that he's the first person to walk in with someone who's in that condition. A hospital near a college must see a lot of this kind of thing.
He waits. He debates leaving about a million times, but Trowa sits there in the waiting room instead, holding Meilan's purse, and thinks about how much worse this night could have gone for her. He feels disgusted that something like that was happening right upstairs from where Trowa was standing. How the hell can people do something like that to someone else?
A phone vibrates nearby, and Trowa realizes after a few seconds that the sound is coming from Meilan's purse. He pauses for a few seconds, debating, and then pulls out her phone to check who's calling. Someone named Wufei. After a few more seconds, Trowa answers the call.
"Hello," he says. "Meilan can't come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?"
There's a long pause. "Who is this?" someone asks. Trowa assumes that he's Wufei. "Where's Meilan?" The guy sounds very confused and understandably cautious.
Trowa pauses. "Are you her cousin?" he asks. Trowa might be wrong, but Meilan said that she didn't talk to anyone else and didn't have any friends here, and if someone's calling her this late, then it could be important. That's why Trowa answered the call instead of letting it go to voicemail.
"Yes, I'm her cousin, Wufei," the guy says impatiently. "Who's this?" he repeats.
Trowa takes a deep breath. This won't be a fun conversation. "I'm Trowa," he says calmly. "I met Meilan at a party about half an hour ago. Apparently, some guy drugged her drink and she needed help getting to the hospital."
Even though he's braced for anger, accusations, a million questions fired off at him, there's another long silence instead. "Is she alright?" Wufei asks eventually, and Trowa can hear the underlying question.
"She said that she kneed him in the balls and got away before he could do anything," Trowa relays. "She's pretty out of it right now, though. She was mostly unconscious by the time we got here."
"I see," Wufei says. "Thank you, Trowa. I appreciate you looking out for Meilan."
Trowa wishes that there was a way to reassure Wufei that she'll be alright. It must be very tough, being on the other side of the country when you know that something's happened to someone you care about. "Sure," he says. "Can I get you to help me fill out Meilan's hospital forms while you're on the line?"
Trowa figures that giving Wufei something constructive to help with is the best thing to do right now, and they go through Meilan's admission forms. When they're done, Wufei hangs up after getting a promise from Trowa to call him back when Meilan wakes up, and then Trowa has nothing else to do but sit and wait and offer wordless thanks to no one in particular that this night didn't turn out half as bad as it could have.
This probably isn't exactly what Cathy had in mind when she told Trowa that he should try to make some friends, he thinks ruefully. He'll take it, though.