Lightning flashed over the black night sky, illuminating it to a rare shade of cobalt blue. It looked frigid outside, almost like a foreboding winter night, but it was the middle of the L4 colony rainy season and the humidity helped it from becoming cold. It was actually a steamy 84° outside. Quatre Winner sat in his study, glasses on, eyes serious, mind steeped to heightened levels of concentration. Never in his lifetime did he think that college finals would be this difficult; he'd piloted a Gundam in two wars, why couldn't he comprehend basic psychology? The more important question was: why did he care? He stared at his notes, many of the pages, which were riddled with sketches of Sandrock, and concentrated, trying to make sense of it all and find a correlation with the text and his notes. Of course, there was no correlation; the professor simply lectured in class (which is where the notes came from) and the text was mostly a history of psychology. His nerves were wrecked, so much so that he asked for Rashid to make him a pot of coffee (a substance which he rarely drank he preferred tea) and to leave him alone.
Growing more impatient with his studying he drew a pale, creamy hand through his pallid hair. He rolled his head back on his neck, cracking it and relieving some of the tension there. He took the tortoise shell glasses from his face, hoping that it would relieve some of the built-up pressure in his head. He rolled his creamy fingers across his temples, massaging the pressure point; this didn't help at all. He reached for the large bottle of aspirin that Rashid had also left with the coffee and he gulped three pills down with his bitter, cold coffee. This had to be his lowest point; if he had to choose between the feeling of thinking that he'd killed Trowa under the Zero System and studying for college finals, he would gladly choose the Zero System. A gong of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside of the study let him know that it was 2:00am and that he'd been studying for way too long. He was beginning to relish the thought that if he didn't know it by now he was never going to know it, but he wasn't a quitter. One more hour and then he'd call it quits; he needed to sleep sometime. He also needed to eat. He'd skipped dinner that night and asked that Rashid keep some out for him so that he could eat it later. Maybe he would just give up, he surely was hungry.
He pushed the glasses back on his face and stood from the desk chair, stretching his limbs high above him and popping the many vertebrae in his back. He looked one last time at the picture of Skinner and his rats and Sigmund Freud and closed the text, ready to take a long-awaited break from his studying.
"Winner, you shouldn't be breaking, you need to keep at it." he told himself as he walked towards the study door, exiting the dimly-lit room and emerging into the total darkness of the hallway. It was 2:00 in the morning, why did he think that the house would be bustling with life; he was the only loser that decided to go to college. He shrugged and felt his way through the hallway and down the stairs towards the kitchen to retrieve his, no doubt, cold dinner.
When he reached the kitchen he realized he saw a note that had Rashid's handwriting on it, it picked up the small piece of paper and read it.
Master Quatre,
There was no dinner left, so I decided to make you a sandwich instead. It is in the refrigerator. Enjoy.
Rashid
"Dammit!" he cursed, throwing the note in the trash and retrieving his sandwich from the refrigerator. It was turkey and Swiss, and though he loved this particular sandwich the most, he was really looking forward to baked rosemary chicken, which had been dinner a few hours earlier. He walked into the living room and plopped down on the green leather couch. He knew that he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, considering the copious amounts of coffee that he'd been drinking, he didn't feel drowsy at all. He lifted the sandwich to his mouth and sipped some root beer.
"I guess this is better than nothing," he whined and reached for the remote so he could watch some TV.
"Maybe there will be something on." He said again and clicked on the big screen. An infomercial about getting whiter teeth, he figured that he might have to do that after he drank all that coffee, but he hated infomercials so he changed the channel. The next channel was the Spanish channel, he vaguely understood Spanish so he kept going. The next channel was the resident soft porn channel, something that Duo usually looked at when he visited but Quatre rarely watched. Though he did linger there a bit he changed the channel once again, lest he be giving into his Id and he didn't want to think about Freud on his break from studying. He decided that there was nothing on and turned off the television.
"I hate TV. We have close to 500 channels and nothing to watch." He scratched his head and laid it back against the arm of the sofa. He decided that he would just relax and not think about studying for at least another thirty minutes. Maybe he could even get up and get some more root beer and make himself another sandwich. On second thought, he would just lay here and rest a bit and not think about Psychology.
He decided that he would think about the last time that he and the guys were together. It had been a while, almost half a year since he'd seen them, though he talked and e-mailed them on a weekly basis; even Heero responded to his e-mails. The last time they were together was a three-year celebration of the Earth Sphere United Nation. Heero had been there right next to Relena guarding her like a good boyfriend/bodyguard should. Wufei was there dressed in his Preventer uniform and arm in arm with Sally. Duo was with Hilde and discussing with Relena a business venture of his company helping with the Mars Terra-forming project. Trowa was with Cathy and they both seemed happy. Quatre smiled as he remembered them all teasing him about going to college and how he explained that he was ending his second semester at University of L4. They'd been joking with him calling a "braniac" and a "college boy," but Quatre knew that they were all proud of him. A sigh escaped his lips as he stretched like a cat against the green leather. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the memory, allowing the sights and sounds of his friends to enter his mind's eye once again.
A rustling of the bushes right outside the window caught his ear and he jumped up from the couch, looking around the living room for any signs of an intruder. He was tense, as tense as he was when he was piloting his Gundam but he looked outside of the window and realized that it must have been the rain or the wind or something related to the storm that was causing him to act paranoid. He relaxed, though reluctantly, and stretched out even more onto the leather couch. Then he heard it again, it was louder this time, more like the thumping of someone against the door. He jumped the from the couch and picked up a large, wooden vase that sat next to the door for the purpose of storing wet umbrellas. He crept closer to the door, clenching the knob slowly and just as slowly pulled the door open.
In his lifetime, there were few things that shocked him, one being the murder of his father, what stood outside of his door was more amazing more shocking, more terrifying than even that. She was soaked through and cowering at his front door dressed in simple pair of jeans and blue shirt. Her blond hair was slicked to her dampened skin and her skin was the so pale almost blue, she looked like she'd suffered from hypothermia. He quickly stepped outside and picked her up into his arms and laid her on the green, leather sofa.
"Dorothy," he whispered, almost as if this was a dream, as if she was surreal being like an angel and if he said her name aloud she'd disappear into thin air. She only responded by looking back at him, with reddened steely blue eyes.
She hadn't changed much in three years, the only modification being that she'd plucked those horrid eyebrows. Other than that, there was nothing in her physical appearance that had changed dramatically. She pushed against him as he tried to set her on the couch, secretly telling him that she could handle herself.
"You're soaked through."
"I know that." She said, her voice just as steely and just as curt.
"Let me go get you some other clothes so that I can dry those." He was always so damned nice. That's what she hated about him; even after she'd stabbed him in the side he was still willing to be the graceful, nice host. She nodded to him, acknowledging that she wouldn't mind that he got her some more clothes and he ran quickly up the stairs to get her some of his things. He returned quickly, a pair of old boxer shorts in one hand and a long t-shirt in the other.
She took the dry clothes from his hands and started to remove her wet ones, and he turned around quickly being the gentleman that he'd been raised to be. When he finally turned around she was dressed and standing in front of him like a person from a dream.
"Wha…" she put a hand up to stop his speech.
"Before you start with you questions, I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my actions during the war against you." her eyes were earnest, her face just as sincere but there was something in her voice that invited trepidation.
"You could have just written or called, you didn't have to come all the way out here. Why did you?" Quatre asked, he didn't step closer to her; something inside of him still feared her.
"You look different, Quatre, much more relaxed. I never thought I'd see you in sweatpants and a t-shirt, it's so much more different than your usual warrior ensemble of khaki pants, pink shirt, purple vest and loafers." She was changing the subject, too afraid to answer that question; not afraid, just not prepared to answer that question.
"I'm studying for college finals, this is a lot more comfortable than the khaki's." A smile appeared on her face and he could tell that she was stifling a laugh. She stepped forward and instinctively he blocked his side that she'd stabbed him in. She, seeing his motion, took two steps backward and sat on the leather sofa.
"You never answered my question."
"Can we talk about something other than that?" she asked, looking down at her feet.
"Would you have me act as if we're old friends instead of old enemies?"
"I just need a moment before I can answer anything." There was a silence. He understood her now. She was here for a larger reason that just to apologize for her actions during the war, she needed to get something off her chest. The politeness in him didn't allow him to throw her out of the house he instead indulged her and forced himself to relax and act as if they were old friends who hadn't spoken in a while.
"Alright, let's talk about something else." He said, walking over to the cream cloth chair that was right next sofa and sitting.
"What are you studying?"
"Psychology, mostly Freud. I don't know a damned thing about it." he said with a smirk on his face.
"What is there not to know? Everything about Freud is sex, if you understand the underlying nature of sex then you can understand Psychoanalysis." She said flippantly with the toss of her hair. This was the cocky Dorothy that he remembered the one that dared to challenge Heero Yuy to a fencing match and wasn't even afraid when he almost stabbed her through her mask.
"And what is the underlying nature of sex?" he asked, looking at her seriously.
"All humans are driven by their instincts or primary motivators, food, water, and sex or the biological need to reproduce. Freud developed the concept of the triad human conscious, the Id, Ego, and Superego." She said the words passionately, almost happily as if she'd never been able to talk about something so deep, so heartfelt. He looked into her eyes and realized that she was telling him something, of what he knew not.
"All human beings are born with certain instincts, natural not given, that is the Id. The Id is the little baby that only knows that it wants milk and cries until it gets it. This is the Pleasure principle or a hedonistic intention, meaning that pleasure is the one true factor. I used to believe this and held it as a truth."
"What do you believe now?"
"I don't know what I believe anymore."
"Keep telling me about Freud, it helps."
"He had the three stages of physical and Cognitive Development. Those stages were Oral, Anal and Phallic."
"Did this guy ever have sex?"
"I don't know, maybe he was oversexed." She chortled at the joke and he joined her.
"What are you instincts, Dorothy, what brought you here?" he asked again and she looked at him with steely blue eyes. Her eyes looked like they're about to fill with salty tears and for some reason Quatre's heart tightened.
"You…" she paused for a second and he felt his body stiffen "… you know that time on the Libra when I stabbed you?"
"Yes." He responded confused and warm all over.
"Those things that were said, I never understood your kindness then, I still don't understand it. You baffle me, Winner. You're the one part of my past that I cannot accept, that I can't get over, that I can't bury. I've wandered for three years, searching for a reason for your kindness and have come back with nothing. Maybe I was just searching for you; you're the only person that has ever shown me true benevolence." She was telling him everything and she's ranting her mind can't stand still and He didn't blame her. For three years she's wanted the nerve to search Quatre out and she'd finally found him.
"Why now?" Quatre asked, not contented with her answer.
"I was thinking about you, I do that a lot. I feel stuck sometimes, like I'm in a rut, like I'm going to explode if something doesn't happen soon. After the war I went completely crazy, not knowing who or what or where to turn. I was committed for six months trying to work through my demons coming out more crazy than I was when I stabbed you." Her eyes looked lost, like they were in the middle of some strange daydream.
"Everyone feels like that Dorothy, you're human, you have to accept it. Boredom comes with the territory. Look at me, I'm trying to live a normal life as a college student." Quatre quipped and flashed a pearly smile. She tried to smile but it only came out as a slight upturn of the corner of her mouth.
"Even you feel that way. Do you feel like when you take a breath that your whole chest is going to cave in? Do you ever feel as if the next breath you take will be your last? Do you ever feel as if your past is so close behind you that there is no way that you can shake it off?" she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. Quatre reached out a hand to her and held her small trembling hands. A tear slipped down her cheek and he caught it with a sly finger against the soft skin. Why did he notice that Dorothy had soft skin?
"The past is gone, behind you, it doesn't matter. Look to your future Dorothy, make it happen."
"But I have no future, I am lost without war, it's all I know." She wretched her hands from his and hugged her frigid knees with her arms. She was curled up impossibly small and shivering. Quatre instantly felt a part of him soften more so than ever. He'd always had soft spot for Dorothy and his heart could melt with the emotions that were going through his mind at this moment. He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder and almost fell over with the deep emotions he felt radiating though her. His abilities, though growing a bit weaker without use, were strong this night and he could feel her ardor so clearly.
"I want to lose myself," she said so close to him and he realized that he'd closed his eyes. When he opened them he noticed that she was face to face with him so close that he could feel her warm breath on his own face.
"How?"
"I want to follow my instincts, live by my emotions. I want to bury my past and put it to rest." She was looking at him with predatory blue eyes and he didn't know if she wanted to kill him or kiss him. This look frightened Quatre and he backed away from her.
"Dorothy, only you can do that." He said slowly backing away. She grabbed his arm, noticing his unhurried retreat and lowered her mouth to kiss the back of his hand. Quatre was so stunned by this movement that he didn't even move. She became bolder and took his pointer finger into her mouth and sucked it. He rolled his head back on his shoulders and surrendered to the pleasure.
Her tongue lapped at the creamy flesh, she could feel the calluses on her tongue and derived that the finger that she had in her mouth was from his writing hand. She kissed her way up his arm and landed on his shoulder, a hand on her own shoulder stopped her.
"Dorothy," he started pushing her away, "you need more than this. We can get you real help."
"This is what I need, Quatre, I need you." he looked into her eyes and realized that she was right. He didn't want to be needed or wanted but she seriously needed him. She'd had a terrible life and he'd been the only person to ever show her kindness even when she'd stabbed him. He realized now that she'd lived with great guilt ever since that day because he'd seen right through her pain and into her heart. He'd seen that she was a kind person. Quatre saw her soul and loved her anyway, which is something that no one had ever taken time to do. He was her counselor, her psychologist, her friend and now she wanted him as something more. She wanted him to always be there to take care of her and love her so that they could both grow and go forth towards the future together.
He brought his hands up to cup her face and ran a free hand through her damp, ashen hair and kissed her forehead. Then he ran his lips form her forehead to the bridge of her nose, the over her eyes, then the tips of her nose, and finally to her petal soft lips. She kissed him and instantly relaxed, allowing their lips to move together languidly and chastely. He pulled away reluctantly to catch his breath and smiled at her, he was met by an even larger smile.
"You can help me forget, you can be my analyst" she said lowering her head into his shoulder.
"Only you can help yourself, Dorothy. But we must never forget the past completely."
"You will be with me?" she asked, her voice trembling with anxiety. Quatre moved from his seat on the chair to the sofa and held her close to his heart. She listened to the beating as she rested her head against his chest.
"In one hand I grasp the past. In the other I hold the future. In my eyes I see the present. One must take a firm hold and understand the past to understand what has been and to see a glimpse of what the future might hold. You must see the present as clearly as you can and make sound judgments, at times you will not see clearly mostly in the younger years, but as you grow and mature you will see more. It is the future that one must hold carefully, one must take great strides to ensure that you do not squeeze too hard for thence you hurt yourself and others, and one must also not hold it too gently thence it will slip away and fall to nothing." Those words fell from his lips gracefully as if he were reading it from some great philosopher.
"That was better than Freud," she smiled and playfully kissed him on the cheek. He looked at her and smiled, not understanding why he was all of sudden excited or happy, not realizing why he felt the way he did. He just knew that some void was filled. He forgot about his studies for the rest of the night and figured that he'd do okay on his final the next day; he was better than Freud, at least to one person.