Strange Bedfellows 1/2

Summary:2x4. Humans feared what they didn't understand. And no human had ever really understood him. After being chased out of town, there is no room for another in Quatre's heart, or in his bed, but a Minstrel is determined to open his eyes and force his way in if necessary.

Written for aquerna, who was the winning bid on a fic by me for the Help Haiti auction on livejournal. My first 2x4, so, be gentle with me?

Chapter One

His bed had been cold this morning, as it had been every morning since he had set up shop in this quiet little town. It wasn't as if he didn't have any offers. He was new in town, a prosperous healer, and he looked young and handsome. Many ladies and lads had made it clear that any advances would be welcomed, but he couldn't seem to find room in his heart for another right now, despite how much his heart and mind longed for a companion again.

Quatre had never done well with solitude and he had never really been confronted with it before now.** He had also never been so cruelly turned against before, in all of his many lifetimes. Having to move out of town before being lynched was something that he was used to: people did not take kindly to finding out that their resident healer wasn't human, and that he didn't age the same way that human's did.

Usually, he moved before they found out, but often his lovers would come with him. When he chose someone to be with, it was for long times, many lifetimes by human standards. But this time, he had chosen poorly; the betrayal stung even now, months later, and Quatre would be haunted by the look of horror and anger that had flashed through the eyes of Alex- his last lover- when he told him of his heritage. Quatre's nightmares were full of faces, and voices, and the jeers of the man he loved, as he led every man, woman, and child (most of which he had nursed back to health at one point or another) against Quatre. Alex chased him out of town, burned his house, and tried to burn him at the stake like some sort of witch! He was nothing like that, but, humans feared what they didn't understand. And no human had ever really understood him.

So, Quatre had left, set up shop so far away that no one would ever find him, and he began life again, but he dared not take another into his life.

He had friends, and many in the town were kind to him. Today, he had been given a ride in the back of a turnip cart to the next town so he could do his monthly buying and selling.

The market was a bustling hive of activity, with little stalls lining the street, peddlers selling food and drinks as they walked amongst the crowd, beggars panhandling for a bite to eat, a few minstrels playing for coins, and children running wild.

Quatre was usually charmed by such a scene, especially one filled with music and laughter, but today he was here just to get what he needed to finish setting up his home for patients and then leave. He had a date with his cold bed to look forward to, and perhaps a case of measles. Those were always fun. To be honest, he had a feeling that he would be treating more cases of them soon- and his feelings were seldom wrong. He could sense 'epidemic' in the air with his elfish gifts and he wanted to be prepared.

He found himself picking through a market stall for linens, looking for something that he could use for the cot, or the floor, when he felt eyes on him. That wasn't unusual, so he continued to look through the bed sheets critically, trying to find what he needed at a price he wanted. And he had decided to look at this particular stall because he hoped that he could barter a little with the man behind the cart. He was scratching at a rather nasty looking boil, and Quatre had a healing cream in his satchel that might be enough to sweeten the pot and get the man to sell for a price that a healer could afford.

"Bad heart break, eh?"

Quatre shocked away from the pile of linens he was looking through to face the voice. The man looked to be about 25 years, with a cocky swagger and a lute strapped over his back. He leaned a hip against the stall and took a sharp bite of the apple he held in his hands. The fresh fruit gave a loud SNAP and then filled the air with the sweet smell, and then from his full, pink mouth darted a quick tongue that licked up the little droplets of juice that had fallen from the big red apple. Temptation at its finest.

The man smirked, almost as if he knew exactly what Quatre was thinking, and pushed off the shop cart just to lean over and peer at the goods closer. That was when Quatre noticed the long rope of chestnut brown hair that fell over his shoulder and hung all the way down to his waist. All in all, he looked very exotic, and had a charming smile that could swindle the diamonds right off of any woman's finger. Quatre wasn't buying it.

"Pardon?" he asked casually. He turned back to the linens and continued to look at the pile he had been at before, trying to be polite but saying with his body language 'leave me alone'.

Apparently the boy wasn't buying that either. He looked at the linen in Quatre's hand, and then to Quatre, "I said: Bad heart break. Right? Those bed sheets are too small to be for two, so it's not to accommodate a new lover. And if you had a Missus at home that you wanted to have more alone time with without a little one running around, you would be looking at those bed sheets that are small AND short ." The minstrel pointed to the collection of child-sized linens and grinned, as if expecting that little trick of deduction to earn him a coin, or at least an answer to his question.

He would get neither from the healer. Quatre tried to smile, looking at the boy with kindness, "Is there something I can do for you, sir?" he asked as politely as he could.

The boy continued on as if Quatre hadn't spoken, "So, it's not a child and not for a new lover. But, also, you didn't even LOOK at the larger bed sheets. Not even a glance, or a query for their price. Most people at least look at how much more the next size up is. Not you, though. That tells me that you've hardened your heart to the thought of having a bed mate. Which leads me to ask... Bad heart break, Right?"

Quatre's considerable patience was beginning to thin, and the stall owner seemed to catch on that he just might lose a customer over the annoyance, "Get out of here!" he grunted, swatting towards the minstrel, "If you aren't going to buy, then get out of the market."

The boy frowned, "I'm not hurting anything! I'm just talking! I'm not even touching your things! Jeeze!" he growled, taking a step back at least.

Quatre took the opportunity to hand over the linen he most liked and began to barter the owner down to a decent price... Then proceeded to offer him the medicine for a little trade. It worked. And he ended up with the linens he wanted, without the heavy salve he had been carrying, and only a few coins lighter. Win-win!

But as soon as he walked away, that minstrel followed him just a pace behind and kept on pestering him. "So... was it a girl? Or a guy? Did she dump you? Was unfaithful? Married your brother? Set the village after you with torches and pitchforks?"

THAT made Quatre's head whip around, looking at his stalker with a mix of anger, frustration, but also a hint of fear. He hoped that he hadn't been recognised here! He wanted a fresh start!

The boy's brow lifted, and his eyes darted towards Quatre's hair- which always fell over top of his slightly pointed ears to hide his non-human features. Oh GOD he knew...

Quatre paled just a little, feeling rather cornered. He could defend himself. He had some magic other than just healing, but, he couldn't control offensive spells well. He didn't want to hurt any of the innocents around him.

Suddenly the other boy put his hands up in front of him, "Hey hey, easy there... I didn't mean 'nothing. Just a joke. I just wanted to know your story. I'm a minstrel." He pointed to the lute quite clearly displayed on his back, "I like stories. I tell stories. I sing stories. You... Looked interesting." He hummed, shrugging.

Quatre didn't sense any anger, or falsehood coming from the man. But that didn't mean he trusted him.

The minstrel extended a hand and grinned, "I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie. That's me: Duo Maxwell, at your service. And who are you?"

"Quatre Winner." He replied, his manners ingrained, and he shook his hand out of courtesy.

A spark of electricity coursed between their hands, shocking Quatre enough to retract his hand quickly and rub at the palm. It had hurt! He was mourning already selling his healing cream, but he did have more at home. He looked at his palm, but, it seemed no different. His flesh was uninjured... but the sting remained, as if to keep him alert.

The minstrel was looking at his hand too, confused.

What an opportunity! Quatre turned around and dashed away, zig-zagging through the market to get away from the crazy minstrel. He found a nice quiet spot near a man selling flowers and he rustled through his bag to make sure he had everything he needed. All that was left on his list of things to buy today was an herb.

So, checking both ways for his stalker and finding him nowhere, Quatre let out a relieved sigh and merrily went about his way. There was only one apothecary shop in this market, and that was the only place to find good healing herbs.

When he walked out, his last purchase in hand and a bright, sunny smile back on his face, he barely stifled a groan when that voice caught up to him again, coming from behind him.

"So, you're a healer? I was asking around about you, and being in an apothecary shop tells me a lot." The minstrel- Duo- asked jovially, pushing off from the door frame of the apothecary shop. "Where? Is it a nice place? Are you looking for help? Do they pay you well? Does the girl who broke your heart live there? Is the food good?"

He wanted to sigh, or at least roll his eyes, but he was too nice to do so. It didn't look like the boy would be leaving him alone until he got his answer, and frankly, Quatre was not about to give it to him. But he didn't have to be rude. He could perhaps throw the man off track? He was a charming sort of man with a roguish grin and a friendly aura. Quatre sensed that, perhaps, they could be good friends one day. But Quatre's heart was closed now. There was no more room for anyone else right now. Not even a handsome, cocky little minstrel with an obsession with buying and selling.

"I am a healer, yes, but I'm afraid that I am needed elsewhere. It was a pleasure meeting you Mister Maxwell. I hope to see you again. Goodbye." And Quatre turned on his heel and walked quickly, weaving his way through the busy market towards the road out of town. He had everything that he had wanted. He had traded, got a few herbs, and got the linens. He could make up some cots as soon as he got back, and then he could get ready for the measles. He knew they were coming.

After a few minutes of hard walking, working his frustrations out on the soil, he regained his serenity and began to enjoy the scenery, walking casually back towards the sleepy little town his little house was in, and he tried to made all thoughts of Duo Maxwell leave from his head. He was quite sure he would not cross paths with him again.

Oh, how wrong he was.

TBC

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment!

**One line is from Candlelight, and it was my inspiration for how to start this fic! Thank you Gecko!

Also, do what YOU can to help charity: whether it's an auction for Help Haiti, or something in your community. Please, give however you can with time, effort, and anything you can give.