Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, and am making no money off of this fic.
AN: Written for the July 6th Cocktail Party prompt found here: gwcocktailfriday . tumblr .com (/)post/175472186070. (Without the spaces and parentheses.)
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Sparks of Memory by luvsanime02
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Quatre warily eyes the sparklers that are sitting in several special glasses on each of the tables at the party. He'd hardly even noticed them before, but now that they're all lit and sizzling, he can't seem to look away, waiting for disaster to strike.
"That can't be safe," he says eventually.
Dorothy gives him a sharp, amused smile in response. "They're not filled with alcohol, you know."
Quatre sighs. "Yes, Dorothy, I know that," he replies patiently. One must always be patient when dealing with Dorothy Catalonia. "They're sitting on wooden tables," he points out.
Dorothy hums, watching him more than the sparklers. "I doubt that a few sparks will be enough to set a table on fire," she says, then pauses. "Maybe it'll be enough to set the glitter and confetti all over the tables on fire, but those are tacky, anyway."
She's clearly not the least bit bothered by the idea of the decorations going up in flames. Dorothy even seems to be endorsing the idea, somewhat, and Quatre isn't at all surprised. He's sure that she'd love the resulting chaos.
Quatre tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that the sparklers are sitting in high glasses. That, really, they don't actually have that high of a flammable nature. That children run around with these things in their hands. That there's even a few children doing so right now. He's worrying needlessly.
Still, Quatre keeps a close watch on the sparklers as they all slowly die off. Half of them are nothing but burnt sticks and wisps of smoke now.
"Such a shame that something so glorious dies so quickly and easily," Dorothy mutters.
Quatre startles, and looks over at her again. Dorothy's attention is now on the few sparklers that are left burning. "There's more of them," he says, even though the last thing that he wants right now is for Dorothy to light some more sparklers.
She shrugs, gesturing at the ones in the glasses. "Did you know," she says, "that once a sparkler has burned itself out, it can't ever be relit again? They're brilliant to look at for such a fleeting amount of time, and then they disappear forever."
They're not really talking about some sparklers anymore, Quatre knows. "Maybe that's for the best," he says, carefully keeping his voice gentle and his tone free of judgment. "They've served their purpose, you know. Now they can… rest."
Dorothy's silent for another few long minutes that stretch out, and then she leans back in her chair with a deep sigh. "Maybe," she says quietly.
Quatre waits. He doesn't want to intrude on her grief. He may not have ever met Treize Khushrenada, but Quatre thinks that he understands the kind of person he was. A little, maybe. Either way, Quatre doesn't mourn for the man, personally. Not like his cousin still clearly does.
Eventually, Dorothy lifts her chin and tosses her hair back over her shoulder with a smirk, and Quatre relaxes. "Well," she says, "now that the party's really getting started, help me find Relena. I need to compliment her on her new reform bill. It's simply marvelous."
Quatre will never understand those two and their complex friendship, but he stands as requested, pulling Dorothy's chair out for her and then letting her loop her arm through his as she steers them towards the gathering crowd. They both know the steps of this dance well, having been taught from childhood, and they make polite conversation with others while steadily getting closer to where Quatre can hear Relena's voice coming from.
Meanwhile, the last of the sparklers finally dies out at the table they've abandoned, leaving behind nothing but memories and the faint smell of smoke on the wind.