Closing the First Act

by Noname-Sali

Quatre visits Trowa and shakes up the delicate balance Trowa has kept up since the war. One-shot.

So this is a late birthday gift for one of my best friends in the world, Ryy. She is the Quatre to my Trowa and I couldn't ask for better.

Enjoy.

My morning started off ordinarily enough. I awoke inside my trailer sometime around three a.m., sweaty with nightmares. The same as almost every other night, I was back in Zero, watching as another me lost control and attacked my allies. My friends. Or, periodically, I was instead watching Quatre, mad with sorrow, destroy a colony under the same influence, as I waited in helpless awe. That nightmare was the most painful. And it wasn't the dream-pain of my mobile-suit explosion that made it so unbearable. It was watching Quatre; seeing my gentle friend so grief stricken and lost. These illusions were only made worse through the fact that I always awoke before either Quatre or I came back to our senses.

After being driven back to reality in the early hours I studied ancient history and mathematics until a time when it was reasonable to be getting ready for the day. I'd taken up this academic hobby soon after joining the circus full-time and finding myself with far too many free hours. Growing up under the care of the militia had taught me many things, but social studies and algebra were not on that list. After watching the other pilots find their places in post-war society I figured it was time I paid some attention to my sorely lacking education. Catherine thought it silly and largely useless considering my career in the circus, but I kept spending whole paychecks on textbooks.

If I was being honest with myself, I needed the studying to latch onto. Forcing myself to solve complex equations and decipher philosophical ideals was as close as I could get to a mission since peace took reign. Not that I wished for war, but having been raised in an existence that relied entirely on the need for soldiers I began to miss that sense of purpose. Studying was my poor substitute for that feeling.

At around seven thirty this morning there was a knock at my trailer door. I hesitated to answer it. It was far too early for Catherine to be up and about and the other circus employees still avoided direct contact with me since my special "show" during the war where I unveiled my gigantic killing machine. That left a very short and unlikely list of possible visitors.

Imagine my surprise when one Quatre Raberba Winner stood on my doorstep holding two steaming coffees with a bright smile. Quatre always had a smile that made you feel like the most important thing in his world at that moment. At least it always made me feel that way.

Relief from last night's anxiety compounded with residual war-time attraction made me greet the blonde with an unusual, smile in return. Quatre didn't comment on it and just waited outside my door for some indication to enter. Not one to break silence without need, I went back inside leaving the door open in my wake, knowing Quatre would follow.

"Good morning," he greeted as we settled at my small table. He gave me a sly smirk, more common-place on his face than one would imagine, before continuing. "You wouldn't believe how hard it was to find this place."

"Is there a reason you needed to find this place?" I asked only realizing how insensitive it sounded when my friend's face fell. He recovered quickly, but his eyes remained focused on the wooden surface below our cups. The light in my small trailer dimmed without his gaze. That was until his vision caught the material I'd been skimming before his arrival.

"Astronomy?" He asked with slight confusion, glancing up at me for permission as his hand reached across the table for the book. Upon receiving my nod of approval his hand closed over the volume and he began flipping pages. Little actions like that always put me in a state of wonder over Quatre. He was always so cordial and polite. Aside from the few outbursts I'd witnessed during battle, the blonde never acted freely on his own feelings. Every other person's thoughts are always taken into account before his own. Even when picking up a book.

With attributes such as these he shouldn't have made a good soldier.

But he did. And my only explanation is that there is such a great passion for life inside Quatre that there was no way he couldn't have fought and succeeded at all costs. And it almost cost him too much, I thought, recalling my recurring dream. Before my thoughts could complete their negative turn, though, he spoke again.

"You'd think that living amongst the stars would make them less wonderful." He commented in his soft, off-handed way. I didn't know if I was meant to reply so I didn't, watching as he casually flipped through the pages. When I felt that it might be time for more words I asked what I'd been wondering since I'd opened my door those fifteen minutes ago.

"Quatre," I waited for him to raise his eyes to mine, more because I liked the peace I found in them than a need to be sure that he heard me. "Why are you here?"

"It's been awhile since the war ended," He explained, holding my gaze. He recited this as if it was one of those speeches he made that I always caught on television late at night while I waited for the oblivion of sleep, distant and secure. "I just thought you might like to go out today. That is, to catch up, of course." His true voice broke through at the end, filled with excitement, dread, and every other embarrassing emotion that he still expressed in a completely charming way.

What could I do, but agree. Quatre has always had that power over me. Not making me do what he wants, but making me want what he does. It would have been a troublesome quality if he weren't… well, Quatre.

"Great," he grinned, the room brightening again as if his joy was directly linked to the electrical current of my trailer. "Where do you want to go?"

After a few minutes of Quatre's suggestions and my non-committal shrugs he declared me unhelpful and made a decision himself. He knew better than to ask my opinion or direction, though. Except where I felt it necessary to intervene, I always forced him make choices. I enjoyed watching him act without others' input. It was a rare event to see Quatre operate based on what he really wanted. Slowly I'd been teaching him to disregard other people's feelings once in a while. Once, he'd explained to me that his empathy made it hard to ignore the needs of others. I could sympathize, but I refused to let him drown himself in the emotions of others while suppressing his own.

In the end, Quatre decided that we would go to the beach for the day. There were plenty of things to do there even in November and a picnic would be more private than eating at a restaurant. If we were to catch up on post-war events we both agreed that it would be best not to have an audience. It was all so simple and normal. Two words that I never thought an interaction with Quatre would include. But I also never thought I would survive the war. Both instances were pleasant surprises, I suppose.

By this time, it was only a few minutes past eight and Quatre, finished with his coffee, began exploring my small abode. Fortunately, there was no need to be embarrassed over the state of my apartment. Old habits die hard and I'd been trained to keep my quarters spotless from a young age. Even with the increasing number of textbooks stacking up on my shelves there was nothing out of place. So from my seat at the table, I watched Quatre circle my small trailer twice before he stopped to run his finger over the spine of a shelved book.

"Trowa," he began softly, still facing the shelf. Instead of pushing him to finish his statement I observed him. For the first time noticing how his face had changed since the war. His baby-plump cheeks had thinned, or maybe he'd grown into them, and his jaw had become stronger. He still showed signs of old Quarter, though, in his large, emotional eyes and shaggy bangs. It relived me a surprising amount to see that he hadn't been swallowed up by his responsibilities yet. "Trowa, I know it seems silly, but I'm so happy to see that you're doing well."

I said nothing knowing that Quatre was more than likely feeling my warmth and comfort already.

A few minutes later Quatre had finished his assessment of my living space, and there was no doubt in my mind that his perusing my trailer was anything but an assessment. Quatre was a young and fun-loving man, especially where Duo was concerned, but the losses he suffered during the war had also made him increasingly protective. He wanted the best for his friends and if he thought there was anything he could do to improve our welfare he wouldn't hesitate to make it happen. He never made direct offers to do things for us, plenty aware of our pride as men who survived a war, but more than once mysterious favors have appeared when one of us needed them most. We all knew he was behind it, but no one brought it up. Instead we kept up a delicate balancing act of ignorance and guilt. Not very different from the act I performed in the circus, or the more private one I walked every time I saw Quatre: down the line separating friendship and something bottomless and unknown.

At length, he silently approved of my living quarters and we made plans for the rest of the day. I explained that there were chores I needed to complete before we could depart on our outing, but that after those few assignments were completed I would be free the rest of the day and evening. Quatre assured me that this was absolutely fine and he would go out and buy something to eat for lunch at the beach while I worked. At ten minutes to nine we parted ways and I began cleaning out the cat cages.

At around eleven thirty, I opened the door to enter my trailer and found Quatre sprawled over my small sofa with the astronomy book balanced on his chest, reading slowly. As I closed the door his golden head leaned back over the armrest to see me. I tried not to let him sense how endearing I found the movement.

"Welcome back." He smiled before swinging himself up and off the furniture. Quatre doesn't give himself much credit, but there is a definite grace to his movements. It's more ingrained and refined than anything I could imitate, while also being so much more relaxed. My movements are based more in strength and purpose, whereas Quatre is able to just stride forward with that easy, warmth-giving smile. He gestured to the kitchen where a picnic basket rested on the table. "I hope you don't mind that I just bought some sandwich things. You know I can't really cook."

"That's fine." I told him, walking further into the trailer and heading for my bedroom, which was only the size of a rather large closet. "Just let me change and we can leave."

The short drive to the beach wasn't very eventful. Quatre drove us in the car he rented since I had no vehicle of my own. The circus was equipped with a couple trucks and vans, but they belonged to the group. During the drive Quatre and I caught up on basic 'how are you's. He had been running his father's business with the limited assistance of his sisters since the war's end and things were going well. The colony had accepted the Winners back with open arms after OZ's failure to fulfill the citizens' needs during the war. Somehow Quatre wasn't bitter at all over the colony's rebellion against his family which caused his father to commit suicide right before his fifteen year-old son's eyes. Rather, Quatre had gladly accepted the reins of the corporation just a year later and has been following in his father's fair footsteps ever since.

I haven't been nearly as productive in the time since the war ended, although Quatre strongly disagrees.

"You've found your family," he explained eyes leaving the road only briefly to show me another supportive smile. Once his eyes returned forward his smile dimmed and disappeared "that's what you wanted, Trowa. You have Cathy now." I didn't feel like that was entirely true. Because if I was where I belonged at the circus with Cathy why did I leave her to fight alongside Quatre during the war and why did I continue to feel like I would do it and much more again at a moment's notice if Quatre asked.

We reached the beach at a quarter till and set up on a high spot near some rocks. This meant that our location would not to be seen or at the very least not obvious to any other visitors. I began unpacking our lunch and when everything was spread out I turned to tell my companion only to face an empty space. The brief moment of panic and horrid remembrances cleared when I found him sitting in the sand further down the beach.

I sat down beside him and watched him listen to the waves, eyes closed in concentration, head tilted toward the sand. Out of regard for his peace I waited a few moments before speaking.

"Why did you want to come to the beach?" I asked realizing there might have been something besides convenience at work in his choice. Quatre gave a weary smile before speaking.

"The last time I was at the beach was just after Heero and I had returned to earth following our…" He paused there and I waited for him to find the correct word, though my own suggestions raced through my mind. Battle. Tragedy. Nightmare. "… my mistake."

I opened my mouth to correct him, but he kept speaking and I stayed silent. "I was consumed by grief at the time. I knew you weren't dead. I kept telling myself that I would have felt it," he admitted as he clutched at his heart with one hand, staring down at the sand. "but then I began to wonder. What if I was so heavily under the system's influence that I couldn't feel it? Or worse yet, what if I'd ignored it? I was so horrified."

I moved closer to Quatre then and gently placed my hand on his shoulder. Quatre and I had never discussed what happened after I'd disappeared and he'd returned to earth. The other pilots had told me about his search and how he'd never lost hope, but it was another part of that delicate act that neither of us spoke to each other about that time I was lost. It would only nudge the two of us to a side of the line I wasn't sure was strong enough to hold us. But the words had been said and there was no way I could stop them now. Not me. Not anyone.

"I came to the beach with Heero and I was so miserable. My head told me to stay here and do my best to defend the Earth from Oz, but all my heart wanted was to steal another shuttle and search the entire galaxy until I found you. If I could find you. It was here that Heero helped me decide that I was needed on earth more, that I couldn't live in the past." His eyes rose to mine then and there was such distress in them, as if he was reliving the moment, that my hand tightened on his shoulder. "I never stopped believing in you, though, Trowa. Not ever."

"I know." I assured him quietly, cut in my own way by the memory. His eyes softened, but still swam with emotion and I found myself wondering if those were his feelings or mine shining in those irises. "And you found me."

"No." He said quickly, sadly. "no, Duo found you. I only followed him."

"Maybe," I agreed, because there's no point in arguing facts with Quatre. "but you brought me back. You're the one who cared enough to try." Quatre took a deep breath and closed his eyes slowly then reopened them with a stronger gaze.

"The point is, I wanted to come back to a beach once I'd found you. So I knew that things had really come full circle. That it was over."

I nodded once and gave Quatre's shoulder a final squeeze. So he needed this to finally put the war away. To finally move forward into this new and different world. I understood and I respected it while also feeling jealous of his moment of closure. I stayed beside him for another minute before rising and walking back to our abandoned meal, knowing Quatre would follow when he was ready.

A few minutes later Quatre ambled back up the beach and took his place beside me on the tattered towel I'd brought from the trailer. He was more composed, but a part of me sensed that there was more he wanted to say. Even though the dam had been broken, I wanted to stop this flow of emotion before we wandered any further into that unknown territory. This interaction, this entire day had been so different than any other I'd spent in Quatre's company. I didn't know how much more I could handle while I hid under the guise of friend. Of course the other obvious plan of action would be to move entirely into whatever I felt for Quatre, but there was no sense it that.

Unlike Quatre and Heero, I was not a risk taker. If I could not calculate my chance of success with a form of attack I wouldn't do it. As a soldier, that was the first rule engrained in my mind and I applied it to every aspect of my life for a reason. It kept myself and what I cared about safe.

I'd followed that rule when I first surrendered to Quatre.

I'd followed it when I infiltrated OZ.

I'd followed it when I threw myself into the blast Quatre had aimed at Heero.

And it worked everytime.

I couldn't apply it here. Feelings were something still partially foreign to me when they involved other people. I couldn't understand my feelings for Quatre at all. I admired him quite a bit, but such were my feelings for all the pilots. I found him attractive, but that alone was no basis for a relationship I knew Quatre and I would find ourselves entering into should I act on the feeling. And then there was Quatre himself. I would have a very difficult time determining whether he felt a real … something… for me knowing about his empathy and tendency to put others above himself. Thus my decision was to keep my mask of mere friendship securely in place until I had reason enough to remove it.

"So what do you want to do after lunch?" I asked as Quatre began formulating his own sandwich. He looked up at me for a moment and his eyebrows drew together in thought. He had probably assumed that I would be content to sit and talk with him about events I'd just determined best left unspoken.

"I don't know," He admitted looking back to his sandwich. "what would you like to do?"

I gave him a withering look and in return received a slight smile. Quatre took a bite of his lunch and watched the waves for a few moments in what I hoped was contemplation of whatever activity we would do next.

"Let's play in the sand." He suggested at length, an alarmingly innocent look on his face. Alas as I had no alternative and it would keep us from discussing personal matters I agreed.

It was a very enjoyable afternoon, actually. Quatre and I took turns carving our gundams out of the dunes and then laughing at how horrid our representations looked despite our extensive knowledge of the machines. The sound of Quatre breaking out of his polite façade, letting loose the hilarity he finds in life is joyous. Too often he covers it with manners and political politeness and no matter what my feelings for him may be I will always find it musical like the call of a freed bird.

After the laughter had fallen away Quatre suggested we compete in a test of wills. We simply had to stand in the chilled water of the ocean for as long as we could stand it. The first to leave was the weaker man. I could name a dozen reasons off the bat explaining why this was a bad idea, but they all burned away under Quatre's now mischievous expression. In the end I trusted that we were both logical enough to understand when was too long in the cool water.

Quatre lasted a short two and a half minutes, being unsuited to the cold as a result of having been raised in the temperate space colony. I stepped onto the sand myself not long later having proved myself more used to earth's climates than my friend.

By the time we had sufficiently dried and regained feeling in our feet the sun was beginning its decent toward the horizon casting everything in gold and bronze. I was admiring the scene when Quatre lept up from my side and stole my attention from the painted sky.

"Let's run." He said looking into my eyes with a solidity that left no room for argument. I rose to my feet, a question on my tongue when he shot me a grin, dropped an excited "go" and raced off. I let out a short laugh before beginning my pursuit.

Soon enough I was breaking even with Quatre and for a brief moment our strides were in sequence. In that moment I felt as if I'd also become empathic, almost overwhelmed by absorbing the sun's golden power, Qutre's free laughter, and the wave's relentless energy. In that moment I felt as if I could have run forever by his side and never looked back. The exhilaration was adrenalin and I was alive again with a purpose no books could replace. But then my longer strides overtook his and I was still powerful, but not as complete. At last the sun sank into the infinite space beyond the sea and the world was left with a gloom broken only by the dim moon. At last our race came to an end, though not voluntarily, as Quatre threw himself against me knocking us both into the darkened sand.

My initial reaction was to see why Quatre fallen into me so I pushed myself up intent on turning over to question Quatre when I became aware of the weight on my back and the digging grip on the back of my sweater. Unease swarmed me.

"Quatre?" I tried, sitting up further and feeling him move to the side. I was able to turn around, but Quatre retained his hold on me, his hands moving to the front of my sweater now. When I was finally able to get a decent look at my friend I didn't know what to think of the sight he made.

In the dusk, Quatre had a grin fighting across his face as tears slipped from his now bottomless, dark eyes. I was lost in the face of this expression and so did the only thing that made sense in my confusion and held his shoulders tightly as he sobbed and smiled.

"I finally caught up to you." He whispered in jumpy breathes as his weeping subsided. "I almost thought I never would."

I didn't understand what Quatre meant by that or why it caused such a strong reaction in him, but I knew it was something important to him. I knew it had changed something in him and undoubtedly between us. And I knew I was okay with that if it meant I could run beside him from then on and hold that feeling again. If it meant I could continue witness all those moments of the true Quatre that I'd seen to today and more.

As I took that deciding step off the edge of the tightrope I'd been clinging to and dove heart-first into an unknown I touched his now moon-silvered hair and kissed him with all the wonder he'd been instilling in me since I first saw him.

Wasn't it about time that we put our old selves away and moved into the second act?

I hope you liked it, Ryy and everyone else. Reviews are relished but not required.

Also I'm aware that I moved tenses a few times. Did it on purpose.