Have You Forgotten
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Here is an AU story inspired by my periodic muse Alithea. Of course, she convinced me that yuri pairing Dorothy/Une could be charming after I read her own stories. And when suffering from a round of writer's block, Alithea suggested I try my hand at this challenge. I managed to fit everything in too. Characters not mine - but I'm really fond of Nichol, so if no one minds I'd like to bid on him. Lyrics, not mine. Actually, I'm not sure who the lyrics belong to: Alithea gave them along with the challenge. Warnings: mild yuri, a very flirtatious Duo, and Heero - well, you'll see. Thanks to Alithea for all the help. Enjoy.)
***
"Alas, the never ending search for love. Our insatiable desire for relationship. Damn it all."
"Stop it, Nichol, or I won't want to be with you anymore." Dorothy glanced back at her happily bleak companion. He was in good spirits. Probably at the prospect of getting a decent drink since they were walking toward the front entrance of the local cabaret, 'Candlelight Muse.' He had grumbled the entire way, even though he was the one bringing her there in what he coined, 'a last ditch effort to cheer Dotty.' Having mostly set, the sun's light had essentially disappeared, leaving them both in the shadow of the building. The buzzing yellow-neon light outside betrayed the independent nature of the establishment - a place where the creative underbelly of the city could reside and perform separately from the circumstances of person, place and time.
"Well, it would be nice to hear something different for once," His lip curled as he scanned over the colorful posters decorating and, by overlapping, almost completely covering the brick wall that had deteriorated from its former crimson glory. "Oh look, mesmerism by Ms. Bloom. 'She reveals the poetry of your future with just one glance into your eyes.' My apologies, it appears we're several months late for Ms. Bloom's performance, Dotty. They really should update this . . . wellspring of information."
The brief smile that decorated Dorothy's face was distorted and fierce to forcefully convey her aggravation at his useless chitchat. The two of them had met at work, finding a kindred spirit of sorts to complain to - both allowing them to vent their frustrations regarding the ignorance of the masses and thereby staying cool enough to keep their positions. That camaraderie over the years had natural grown into an inclination to pry into each other's personal lives.
"After you," Nichol half-bowed, everything gentlemanly about the exterior actions being undermined by the smirk creasing one cheek, his dark brows pushed upwardly with expectation. His outfit Dorothy found very objectionable: an untucked blue shirt of the silk Hawaiian style, rather tattered and form fitting jeans, untied and dirty sneakers. His wiry black hair was too long in the back. Then again, that had been the only rule for their outing: "Look as miserable as possible." They were always coming up with ludicrous challenges before going out together.
"Why thank you," Dorothy purred in an indescribable accent, tipping her head to the side so that her silvery-blonde hair slid all to one side. She hadn't washed it at all that weekend and from the scalp it hung in stuck pieces. Her sundress was a vile powder blue, she had a darker blue pair of knee high socks pulled over her calves, and buckled brown shoes to show off her ankles. "Don't we look lovely?" She mirrored his smirk and half- curtsied before going in.
Glancing around, Dorothy snorted. "How predictable. Candles, everywhere." She crossed her arms, letting one finger tap against the opposite elbow impatiently. "Where should we sit?"
The central attraction was the stage, one beam from an elevated spotlight did it's best to illuminate the foremost section where a solitary microphone balanced from a single metal stand - currently unused. Around it were rows of round tables, each sporting a small, kerosene fueled light. To the left was the bar, every other seat filled mostly with backs to the stage. In the background played a keyboardist.
Nichol waved a hand in front of his nose, "That's not you wearing that smell, is it?"
"Is it the lanterns?" Dorothy asked, her foot starting to tap in time with her finger.
"No, something . . . floral." He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. Stepping around Dorothy, he led them to a table along the wall farthest from the bar. A few of the guests glanced up at them as they passed to what had to have been the most inconveniently distanced table from the exit in Dorothy's opinion. "It's not as bad over here." His nose was still wrinkled with distaste.
No sooner had they taken a seat than a young man scurried over to take their drink orders. The server glanced them over appraisingly with a boyish expression of neither approval nor disapproval. Nichol reviewed the youth's overgrown hair, and no sooner had the waiter identified himself ("I'm Duo.") than Nichol had barked out his preference. Nichol had little patience for other's opinions, verbal or non-verbal. "Did you want that in a glass?" Nichol's irritation not lost on Duo, but having no effect either.
"Bottle's fine." Nichol switched tactics to sound bored. "But don't let it go empty." He liked to play with servers, but Duo simply muttered something nonsensical while turning to Dorothy with a Cheshire grin.
"I don't want anything sweet." She said simply.
"Sour it is!" He practically bounded off - in their opinion, enjoying life too much.
From his seat, Nichol could sit sideways and support his shoulders against the wall. Above him, a portrait of a man, supposedly D. H. Lawrence from the brass plate on the frame. Now and again, Nichol smelled his elbow saying, "Well it certainly isn't me. Try catching a whiff of that ornery server when he gets back, would you?"
"Not him." Dorothy verified, then testing her drink. Letting her lips wrap around the broad rim once more, she glanced over at the nearby table to see an Asian man reading "Franny and Zooey." Sitting with impeccable posture and a pair of reading glasses balanced on the end of his upturned nose, he seemed just about finished. The light flickered and she wondered how he could be reading either by the light or with the pages set so far away. She leaned over slightly, and sniffed. "Not him either." She shrugged.
A mechanical whistle rang from the microphone as the host lifted it to get everyone's attention. A woman wearing a terrible pink hat, jeans and a sequined shirt tapped it before speaking, as if the microphone could have possibly turned off in the few seconds from when she lifted it, "Hello everyone. This is Hilde again and thank you for coming to this evening's performance here at the Candlelight Muse where we strive to bring together unsung talent and some sung talent." A few polite people laughed. Nichol sputtered a good deal of the mouthful he should have swallowed.
"Before the show, we have some raw talent for you. The first is a newcomer who only wants to use the name Lightning Count. We have a few favorites lined up as well. Nevertheless, let us give a polite applause for Mr. Lightning Count." She replaced the microphone and disappeared from the single stage light.
"I suppose that means we're not allowed to boo them off the stage?" Dorothy lamented, swirling her glass and thinking that it was rather sour. Well suited to her mood.
"You're not *supposed* to," Interjected Duo, as he swiftly replaced Nichol's drink, "How's the sour?" Dorothy puckered her lips as he started away, "Don't tempt me!" He laughed, reminding her of the Puck she'd seen at the Shakespeare theater - when she and Nichol had agreed to go wearing all black. The positive image broke down as she remembered their third companion on that adventure.
"Stop thinking about her." Nichol said so quickly he might not have said it at all, "Get a load of this guy."
Wearing a silver mask that simply covered the bridge of his nose and the area around his eyes, the self-proclaimed Lightning Count approached the microphone with a spiral notebook in hand. He was wearing a uniform harkening to those worn by early French noblemen who only played at war until the people forced them to it. But, what was more eye catching than the cape, lace, boots, and rapier was the cascade of golden blond hair falling down his backside. The voice that came amplified sounded as if it were pitched lower than his normal register, another disguise, "A kingdom on fire. A letter has mostly been burned. With only these remaining words of ink: There is not forever . . . only never . . ."
The reading continued. Dorothy wetted her lips and when Duo came again with Nichol's third drink she pointed to her own glass and mouthed, "More sour."
Sharing glances of mutual misery, Nichol and Dorothy managed to refrain from commenting during the performance. When the Lightening Count dismounted from the stage, there was a collective sigh of relief and the politest members of the audience offered scattered applause.
"I think we've found someone more jaded than myself." Nichol leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, "I'm not likely to forget that experience."
Dorothy laughed with delight, her voice skipping as if on a musical scale, "Dear me, Nikolai! Have we found your ideal man? Let us snatch him immediately."
"You wouldn't dare." Nichol's features darkened to a more recognizable scowl, "Beside I'm not the one in need of a refreshed love life."
"Oh please don't try to bait me," Dorothy brushed his comment aside, "I know you brought me here to have a good laugh, but it wasn't supposed to be at your expense, I would imagine."
"What's this about you needing a reinvigorated love life?" With impeccable timing, Duo was at her elbow with her drink.
"You'd take too long to satisfy me," Dorothy said dryly, only in part meaning the drink.
"Please, Dotty, be honest." Nichol slapped his palms against the table, regaining his gloomy humor now that the attention was on Dorothy. Then to Duo, "Dorothy here is as elegantly butch as one woman can be."
"Nichol, demonstrate some taste." Dorothy frowned at his tone.
Both men ignored her, "Really?" Duo commented over her, "That makes it twice a woman's broken my heart without being willing to take it." He teased playfully.
"And there's nothing I like more than seeing two women with tongues down each other's throats." Nichol sarcastically rallied with a touch of experienced bitterness, engaging in conversation that was not new to Dorothy. He had been frustrated for weeks at her preference when they had first met. His coercions that she was the only woman he had ever met that he had ever desired physically and mentally had met a set stubbornness that only intrigued him more. They had settled into an indisputable friendship, but Nichol occasionally petitioned her to reconsider.
"Don't be jealous," Dorothy shot them both coy glances before adding suggestively, " See you don't have to fight over me. You're both kind of cute, why don't you get together?"
Duo's amused smile stretched to his ears, but Nichol slumped back to hide what might have been a startled reaction. Before Dorothy could drive another comment to her newly defenseless comrade, Duo said a touch more seriously, "You might enjoy our High Priestess then."
Dorothy's ears pricked, "High Priestess?"
"Performers here have this continuing habit of using pseudonyms." He explained, pushing his fingers into the pockets of his black trousers. "The High Priestess . . . well she was the first one to deny my flirtations."
"Oh, don't get me wrong," Dorothy let her eyes roam over Duo's slender build, "I never deny any flirtations."
"Well," Nichol rejoined the conversation with an interruption, "There was that one date with Quatre. The boss's son." He added for Duo. "Should have turned him down, Dotty."
"I thought you like girls." Duo seemed inclined to take a chair and sit a while, speaking quickly.
"I do." Dorothy set down her drink after a long sip to delay her next comments; "He's the nicest kid and was after me forever. Although, we have nothing in common. We went to a rodeo where he bought us both brown fedoras and . . ."
"He thought they were perfect for each other." Nichol's eyes gleamed with sinister pleasure.
"Except . . ." Duo urged, taking one hand from his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the back of the free chair.
"Except he sort of found me . . . entertaining myself . . . with one of the cowgirls." Dorothy shrugged at first, innocently, "She was so attractive just coming from riding a bull with her hair mussed and her flushed coloring." Then she frowned, more somberly, "Quatre took it very well."
"He's a good kid," Nichol relented, respecting and carefully noting Dorothy's change in humor. "Actually got married just last weekend. We were at the wedding."
Duo released his grip on the chair and stood straight again, "Well, watch for her. She always finishes the show with a song. Real touching." He tapped the chair a few times in hesitation, then they all heard someone call his name. "Well, I've gotta go earn my keep."
"I don't know, Nichol," Dorothy said lazily, but without as much teasing as before, "He didn't seem opposed to the idea . . ."
"Quiet, Dotty." Nichol scowled. Then realizing his bottle was empty set it heavily against the table and crossed his arms.
A few other performers had continued in the background of their conversation. In their newest silence, they got to watch a young woman calling herself "The Princess of Peace" read a rather boring political dissertation that had not a wit of practical application underlying it.
"That was precious." Dorothy's only comment, as even her clapping seemed sarcastic.
The following performer introduced himself as "The Prince."
"Of all the people, it's that damn pod boy." Nichol hissed, still reeling from the way Duo had laughingly draped an arm and then his entire body around Nichol before giving him another bottle.
The lighting made the newest presenter's blond hair seem tinted green, the way that too much swimming in a concrete pool might cause. Dorothy recognized him as well. After working in side-by-side cubicles for most of their tenure at the company, a new executive had decided to stir the ranks and encourage variety to the social dynamics between the co-workers. That had only succeeded in making him the most hated member of management and earned him a host of vile nicknames. "Pod boy" which was the least offensive remained Nichol's favorite.
"If only I had . . . an olive . . . or something to throw at him." Nichol rested his face in his hands so that they mostly covered his ears.
After listening to "pod boy" read some poem about the isolation of ego for a few minutes, Nichol and Dorothy resorted to their immediate company for entertainment. Duo appeared again, this time having decorated Nichol's beer with crimson ribbon.
"Isn't that cute?" Nichol quipped, trying not to let the college boy unnerve him. The game amusing their server to no end. This time Duo did take the extra seat, swinging it around so he could sit backwards letting his arms rest on the rounded wire back.
"I heard the High Priestess is singing a new one tonight. She was inspired by something or somebody to change at the last minute." Duo's comment seemed commonplace, but the way he let each word linger peeked Dorothy's attention. She simply raised an eyebrow, lest Nichol likewise catch on. But the wiry Russian was still trying to get the bow off the neck of his bottle. Duo nodded, trying not to smile, pushing his tongue into his cheek, and seeming all the more mischievous.
"Duo." The voice came like a polite warning, and then the hostess was at Duo's shoulder, "No chatting with friends."
"These are customers I'm entertaining, Hilde." Duo whined cheerfully, gazing up at his co-worker but not getting up.
"Hi," Hilde grinned cautiously, twirling the black beads of her necklace around one finger. She was half worried about the behavior of her staff, half noticing the more unusual costumes of the guests. "He's not annoying you, is he?"
"Yes." Nichol said, not looking up, but trying at the ribbon's knot with his too short fingernails.
"No." Dorothy contradicted with a winning smile. "Duo's been a pleasure. It's our first time here."
"After the first performances, there is the main show." Hilde sounded almost as if she were reading a practiced script like the employees at the local Sea World. "It's a fifteen minute piece written by one our local artists. Each week we put on a new show and it's an opportunity for them to have their work actually performed and it gives us the most fresh imaginative works."
"And afterwards, her High Priestliness sings." Duo wiggled his eyebrows at Dorothy who simply smiled back with her lips closed.
That was enough to remind Hilde of her mission, "Alright, Duo. At least refill Heero's chai now and again."
"Green tea chai. The drink of champions." Duo sprang up and twisted the chair back around properly again. "I'm right on it." He said accidentally inches from Hilde's face as he spun her direction. Then after swooping up the mug from the Asian man's table, he darted off quite fast toward the bar on the far side.
For the first time, the reader looked up from his Salinger and set the paperback copy flat against the tabletop. He noted that the mug was missing and pulled his glasses from his nose and set them folded properly and facing him on top of the book. He turned very serious dark blue eyes, noticeable even in the limited light toward Hilde.
"Hey sweetie," Hilde chirped across the short way, "How's it going?"
"I've finished," He said factually, and shifted his gaze just enough to observe Dorothy and Nichol.
"So have I," Nichol said smugly, dangling the freed ribbon and tossing it to the side. "That server of yours is a little fishy." Nichol said, and Dorothy noticed that the hostility had worn away from his typical dry humor. He was enjoying himself.
"Duo's finishing his undergraduate degree." Hilde confirmed their suspicions, "He reads some of his poetry every now and again. It's a bit traditional with rhyme and meter, what a surprise, huh? But it's good stuff."
"I swallowed a goldfish once."
They all turned to see Heero still listening in on their conversation. Hilde chuckled with an adoring and amused look on her face. Dorothy thought it more prudent to make a small comment about how they might come back and when would Duo be reading again since Nichol might like that.
The show lasted about fifteen minutes and it was uninterrupted by Duo or anything else. It was a clever little piece that both Dorothy and Nichol felt worthy of acknowledgement. Right after the last cast call and round of bows on stage, Duo skirted their end of the room depositing an undecorated bottle in front of Nichol. "Last one." Dou waved his finger, then set another drink in front of Dorothy. "Now," he leaned in between them and lowered his voice as if to speak with the utmost confidence, "This is a special drink that Wufei cooks up back. It's the Lady's favorite." He said 'lady' with extra solemnity. "It's not sweet, don't worry." He said more quickly, "She says that the flavor will accentuate the lyrical atmosphere of her song tonight. Whatever that means?" He stood up and chuckled, "Enjoy."
"What a strange boy." Nichol's brow knitted together. Dorothy looked back blankly.
Then the spotlight stopped buzzing and, a moment later, the light was gone. Hours after entering the Candlelight Muse, those were the first few moments that it was only lit by candlelight. Dorothy felt her first shiver of premonition. All of Duo's coy comments had been easily dismissed before. Mutual preference did not necessarily equate compatibility. That was a lesson that she had been learning over and over again. She lifted the drink to take a sip. Finding it not as sour, but certainly not sweet. Dorothy pulled in her lower lip, letting the relative darkness hide a moment of emotional honesty.
As her eyes adjusted, Dorothy could see that someone had stepped onto the stage. The best was the outline of a woman, tall before she took a seat on a stool. The light never came back on, when the music began. A simple melody on piano, that slipped into slowly played chords of harmony as the woman began to sing:
***
Just for a thrill
You turned the sunshine to rain
Just for a thrill
You filled my heart with pain
To me, you were my pride and joy
To you, I was a mere little toy
A plaything
That you could toss around at will
***
With the thought that she must keep breathing, Dorothy drank again.
"Isn't that . . ." Nichol whispered, but Dorothy stopped him by putting her hand on his arm. He did, reluctantly and leaned back in his chair.
***
Just for a thrill
You made my life one sad song
Just for a thrill
You just lead me along
Although you are gone and having your fun
To me you're still the only one
Because you made my heart stand still
Just for a thrill
Just for a thrill
***
When the song was over, the light returned and Nichol could see clearly the woman on the stool. She hadn't slipped away in the dark like the time before. He could see her eyes glistening as she lifted her lashes to survey the crowd of anonymous faces. Obviously searching for one person in particular.
But with one look, Nichol knew that Dorothy had disappeared. Her glass half-empty.
But neither of them had expected to see the one person they both had spent so much time trying to escape from. Their jolly company had splintered some months ago, and the juvenile outings and adventures had been a vain attempt to continue without their missing third.
"How'd that go over?" Dou sat in Dorothy's empty seat. His smile truly hesitant for the first time all evening.
Nichol continued to watch her sitting on the stool, the long red dress as crimson as the red ribbons in her braided hair. Her left arm loose as the right arm fell across her lap, still cradling the microphone. The clapping politely lingered. She smiled, a peculiar half-way smile to accept their appreciation. But no one would know how truthful the song might be. How truthful for someone like Dorothy. Nichol himself only knew the truth in part.
"She's gone, isn't she?" Nichol hated pointing out the obvious even though the boy was forcing him to. "Went over just plain marvelously, I'd say. Damn."
"Now be honest," Duo tried, hoping for a better response. Lifting his voice a little, "Une recognized her as soon as she walked in. And it wasn't as if I didn't try to warn you. I thought the ribbon would have tipped you off."
"If I were honest?" Nichol steeled Duo's eyes with his own and then smiled as if speaking with a simpleton, "But I'm always honest. Lies don't hurt near as much as the truth does."
"And the truth is?"
"I would have never hurt her like that."
"I don't think . . ." Duo implored.
"No, you didn't think. If you had . . . " Nichol scolded calmly, surprising himself with the patience he acquired after the shock of seeing Une.
"If you'd let me finish," Duo responded in kind, and Nichol stopping mid- word, his mouth still open with a little surprise at Duo's tone. "I don't think it went over so badly. Look." The college boy turned so that he pointed with his chin toward the stage.
As the rest of the establishment went back to their drinks, their books, and their own company, a tall and slim blonde girl had suddenly appeared at the neck of the stage. She set her first brown buckled shoe on the step and then walked up so that they could see the full blue socks and her pale knees and where her trim legs disappeared up the light blue sundress. The High Priestess, as she called herself in this shadowy home of pseudonyms, turned toward her and for a moment they watched each other's unsurprised faces - as if they both knew they'd meet again in this place, at this time.
Dorothy shook her head. Her hair charmingly knotted and twirled down in strands, waving with each movement. "You're drinks are always mixed the same strange way. I would have known it was you even if you hadn't sang."
"You need a change after downing all that sour nonsense." Une's speaking voice, so different from her singing voice was low and most surely not heard by anyone except the young blonde woman in front of her.
"And what's all this nonsense about me treating you like a plaything?" It took Dorothy all the integrity she had to keep from stomping her foot in frustration before of everyone. "I may always be younger than you, but that doesn't mean I didn't take this seriously."
"I know," Une hushed Dorothy's retort with an apologetic look, "I know now. Anyway, I had always hoped."
"Hoped?"
"Ever since you childishly enthralled me with your charms, I doubted your sincerity." Une stood, reaching out with her hand to trace her fingers down Dorothy's cheek, then down along the strands of hair, "Look at you. Always so playful. Who's idea was this? Yours or Nikolai's?"
"Mine." Dorothy said, still guarded, "I like the dreadlock look, and this was close. You should see Nichol's curls."
"I can just imagine." Une smiled for a fraction of a second, then said solemnly, "I don't know how you found this place, but when Duo came back and said he'd found the saddest girl in the world for me. Then he told me about your rodeo story and I knew it was you."
"I'd never guess that you'd sing professionally," Dorothy admitted, "We just came here by chance. To get my mind off of you . . ." She laughed weakly.
"I heard Quatre got married." Une stepped forward, and both of them seemed to forget where they were. "I made Duo try to find out as much as he could."
"Last weekend, yes." Dorothy breathed deeply and smelled the floral scent that had troubled Nichol earlier. She fought back a smile. "So I seduced you, huh? I could have been wrong, but I think it was you that kissed me first."
"I don't kiss just anyone, Dorothy." Une said her name so slowly that Dorothy responsively shivered from a dozen memories immediately called to mind.
"Not just anyone?" Dorothy sought out the reassurance that had slipped from her so easily before, "Would you kiss a childish woman in knee-high socks?"
"I think so." Une's eyes were close.
"Can we still be friends?" Dorothy said without guile. A bit intoxicated by the closeness of that smell that had been so familiar.
"I think so." Une whispered, the softest of caresses as her lips leaned into Dorothy's. "There's that charm again."
"Am I still the only one?" Dorothy pulled back a fraction tilting her neck back. "Because it hurt enough the first time you left. You left me alone with Nichol!"
"You say it like that's the worst I could have done to you." Une chuckled.
"Well, we need to work on the forgiving a bit." Dorothy suggested thinly resisting. She rested her left hand appreciatively on the curve of Une's hip and curled her fingers into the dress. Loosening them again, she leaned into the hand with a bit more demanding. Coming closer to say, "And I want my ring back that you gave me." Pressing with her ring finger, "The silver one that went there to say I was taken."
"Ah, yes." Une nodded once, "Once we settle on the forgiving bit."
"Fair enough," Dorothy felt the tension between her shoulders relax a fraction. "So where do I start? When do we begin?"
Une answered by pulling Dorothy in by the fabric of the sundress and kissing her solidly.
"And I would say that's a good sign, actually," Duo continued his ongoing commentary, as he and Nichol watched the two women conversing until the spot light suddenly went out. "So, now that my work is done, what are you up to Nicky?"
"Don't you ever call me that again." Nichol growled with half of his normal venom, admitting his own relief. He did feel a small amount of gratitude to the kid for making the connections for Une before she and Dorothy could have a completely surprised reunion. He suspected that would not have gone over nearly as smoothly.
"Duo!" Hilde slid up to their table, glancing with a still bemused expression at Nichol's disarray and then back at her boyish server, "Heero and I are calling it a night. I broke my heel, on my shoe, can you believe that? And while Heero insists he can repair it for me, I'm seeing this as an excuse to go shopping tomorrow. If we're not busy doing something else." She added the last bit suggestively wrapping herself around her boyfriend's arm.
"Aha!" Duo chimed in, "Any potential for a threesome?"
"Only when she makes me." Heero said.
Nichol couldn't read the Japanese man's face. Even when Heero raised his eyebrows as if expecting a response, Duo's chuckle was halting.
"Heero, luv." Hilde rubbed his arm affectionately, "No one gets your sense of humor."
"I guess not." Heero shrugged.
When they were gone, Duo whistled. "What a wild couple."
" 'Wild' is not the word I would use." Nichol argued, he finished off the last of his drink. "Well, Dorothy's disappeared. Don't fancy I'll see her again. Tonight anyway. In the end, I swear you'd think I was a ghost the way they forget me." He balanced his chin wearily with one hand and glanced around feeling rather abandoned.
"I close, but everyone's clearing out of here pretty fast." Duo commented, "I could drive you home."
Nichol thought about it for a minute. Then two, while Duo sat patiently, trying to keep from smiling.
The end.
(Disclaimer: Here is an AU story inspired by my periodic muse Alithea. Of course, she convinced me that yuri pairing Dorothy/Une could be charming after I read her own stories. And when suffering from a round of writer's block, Alithea suggested I try my hand at this challenge. I managed to fit everything in too. Characters not mine - but I'm really fond of Nichol, so if no one minds I'd like to bid on him. Lyrics, not mine. Actually, I'm not sure who the lyrics belong to: Alithea gave them along with the challenge. Warnings: mild yuri, a very flirtatious Duo, and Heero - well, you'll see. Thanks to Alithea for all the help. Enjoy.)
***
"Alas, the never ending search for love. Our insatiable desire for relationship. Damn it all."
"Stop it, Nichol, or I won't want to be with you anymore." Dorothy glanced back at her happily bleak companion. He was in good spirits. Probably at the prospect of getting a decent drink since they were walking toward the front entrance of the local cabaret, 'Candlelight Muse.' He had grumbled the entire way, even though he was the one bringing her there in what he coined, 'a last ditch effort to cheer Dotty.' Having mostly set, the sun's light had essentially disappeared, leaving them both in the shadow of the building. The buzzing yellow-neon light outside betrayed the independent nature of the establishment - a place where the creative underbelly of the city could reside and perform separately from the circumstances of person, place and time.
"Well, it would be nice to hear something different for once," His lip curled as he scanned over the colorful posters decorating and, by overlapping, almost completely covering the brick wall that had deteriorated from its former crimson glory. "Oh look, mesmerism by Ms. Bloom. 'She reveals the poetry of your future with just one glance into your eyes.' My apologies, it appears we're several months late for Ms. Bloom's performance, Dotty. They really should update this . . . wellspring of information."
The brief smile that decorated Dorothy's face was distorted and fierce to forcefully convey her aggravation at his useless chitchat. The two of them had met at work, finding a kindred spirit of sorts to complain to - both allowing them to vent their frustrations regarding the ignorance of the masses and thereby staying cool enough to keep their positions. That camaraderie over the years had natural grown into an inclination to pry into each other's personal lives.
"After you," Nichol half-bowed, everything gentlemanly about the exterior actions being undermined by the smirk creasing one cheek, his dark brows pushed upwardly with expectation. His outfit Dorothy found very objectionable: an untucked blue shirt of the silk Hawaiian style, rather tattered and form fitting jeans, untied and dirty sneakers. His wiry black hair was too long in the back. Then again, that had been the only rule for their outing: "Look as miserable as possible." They were always coming up with ludicrous challenges before going out together.
"Why thank you," Dorothy purred in an indescribable accent, tipping her head to the side so that her silvery-blonde hair slid all to one side. She hadn't washed it at all that weekend and from the scalp it hung in stuck pieces. Her sundress was a vile powder blue, she had a darker blue pair of knee high socks pulled over her calves, and buckled brown shoes to show off her ankles. "Don't we look lovely?" She mirrored his smirk and half- curtsied before going in.
Glancing around, Dorothy snorted. "How predictable. Candles, everywhere." She crossed her arms, letting one finger tap against the opposite elbow impatiently. "Where should we sit?"
The central attraction was the stage, one beam from an elevated spotlight did it's best to illuminate the foremost section where a solitary microphone balanced from a single metal stand - currently unused. Around it were rows of round tables, each sporting a small, kerosene fueled light. To the left was the bar, every other seat filled mostly with backs to the stage. In the background played a keyboardist.
Nichol waved a hand in front of his nose, "That's not you wearing that smell, is it?"
"Is it the lanterns?" Dorothy asked, her foot starting to tap in time with her finger.
"No, something . . . floral." He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. Stepping around Dorothy, he led them to a table along the wall farthest from the bar. A few of the guests glanced up at them as they passed to what had to have been the most inconveniently distanced table from the exit in Dorothy's opinion. "It's not as bad over here." His nose was still wrinkled with distaste.
No sooner had they taken a seat than a young man scurried over to take their drink orders. The server glanced them over appraisingly with a boyish expression of neither approval nor disapproval. Nichol reviewed the youth's overgrown hair, and no sooner had the waiter identified himself ("I'm Duo.") than Nichol had barked out his preference. Nichol had little patience for other's opinions, verbal or non-verbal. "Did you want that in a glass?" Nichol's irritation not lost on Duo, but having no effect either.
"Bottle's fine." Nichol switched tactics to sound bored. "But don't let it go empty." He liked to play with servers, but Duo simply muttered something nonsensical while turning to Dorothy with a Cheshire grin.
"I don't want anything sweet." She said simply.
"Sour it is!" He practically bounded off - in their opinion, enjoying life too much.
From his seat, Nichol could sit sideways and support his shoulders against the wall. Above him, a portrait of a man, supposedly D. H. Lawrence from the brass plate on the frame. Now and again, Nichol smelled his elbow saying, "Well it certainly isn't me. Try catching a whiff of that ornery server when he gets back, would you?"
"Not him." Dorothy verified, then testing her drink. Letting her lips wrap around the broad rim once more, she glanced over at the nearby table to see an Asian man reading "Franny and Zooey." Sitting with impeccable posture and a pair of reading glasses balanced on the end of his upturned nose, he seemed just about finished. The light flickered and she wondered how he could be reading either by the light or with the pages set so far away. She leaned over slightly, and sniffed. "Not him either." She shrugged.
A mechanical whistle rang from the microphone as the host lifted it to get everyone's attention. A woman wearing a terrible pink hat, jeans and a sequined shirt tapped it before speaking, as if the microphone could have possibly turned off in the few seconds from when she lifted it, "Hello everyone. This is Hilde again and thank you for coming to this evening's performance here at the Candlelight Muse where we strive to bring together unsung talent and some sung talent." A few polite people laughed. Nichol sputtered a good deal of the mouthful he should have swallowed.
"Before the show, we have some raw talent for you. The first is a newcomer who only wants to use the name Lightning Count. We have a few favorites lined up as well. Nevertheless, let us give a polite applause for Mr. Lightning Count." She replaced the microphone and disappeared from the single stage light.
"I suppose that means we're not allowed to boo them off the stage?" Dorothy lamented, swirling her glass and thinking that it was rather sour. Well suited to her mood.
"You're not *supposed* to," Interjected Duo, as he swiftly replaced Nichol's drink, "How's the sour?" Dorothy puckered her lips as he started away, "Don't tempt me!" He laughed, reminding her of the Puck she'd seen at the Shakespeare theater - when she and Nichol had agreed to go wearing all black. The positive image broke down as she remembered their third companion on that adventure.
"Stop thinking about her." Nichol said so quickly he might not have said it at all, "Get a load of this guy."
Wearing a silver mask that simply covered the bridge of his nose and the area around his eyes, the self-proclaimed Lightning Count approached the microphone with a spiral notebook in hand. He was wearing a uniform harkening to those worn by early French noblemen who only played at war until the people forced them to it. But, what was more eye catching than the cape, lace, boots, and rapier was the cascade of golden blond hair falling down his backside. The voice that came amplified sounded as if it were pitched lower than his normal register, another disguise, "A kingdom on fire. A letter has mostly been burned. With only these remaining words of ink: There is not forever . . . only never . . ."
The reading continued. Dorothy wetted her lips and when Duo came again with Nichol's third drink she pointed to her own glass and mouthed, "More sour."
Sharing glances of mutual misery, Nichol and Dorothy managed to refrain from commenting during the performance. When the Lightening Count dismounted from the stage, there was a collective sigh of relief and the politest members of the audience offered scattered applause.
"I think we've found someone more jaded than myself." Nichol leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, "I'm not likely to forget that experience."
Dorothy laughed with delight, her voice skipping as if on a musical scale, "Dear me, Nikolai! Have we found your ideal man? Let us snatch him immediately."
"You wouldn't dare." Nichol's features darkened to a more recognizable scowl, "Beside I'm not the one in need of a refreshed love life."
"Oh please don't try to bait me," Dorothy brushed his comment aside, "I know you brought me here to have a good laugh, but it wasn't supposed to be at your expense, I would imagine."
"What's this about you needing a reinvigorated love life?" With impeccable timing, Duo was at her elbow with her drink.
"You'd take too long to satisfy me," Dorothy said dryly, only in part meaning the drink.
"Please, Dotty, be honest." Nichol slapped his palms against the table, regaining his gloomy humor now that the attention was on Dorothy. Then to Duo, "Dorothy here is as elegantly butch as one woman can be."
"Nichol, demonstrate some taste." Dorothy frowned at his tone.
Both men ignored her, "Really?" Duo commented over her, "That makes it twice a woman's broken my heart without being willing to take it." He teased playfully.
"And there's nothing I like more than seeing two women with tongues down each other's throats." Nichol sarcastically rallied with a touch of experienced bitterness, engaging in conversation that was not new to Dorothy. He had been frustrated for weeks at her preference when they had first met. His coercions that she was the only woman he had ever met that he had ever desired physically and mentally had met a set stubbornness that only intrigued him more. They had settled into an indisputable friendship, but Nichol occasionally petitioned her to reconsider.
"Don't be jealous," Dorothy shot them both coy glances before adding suggestively, " See you don't have to fight over me. You're both kind of cute, why don't you get together?"
Duo's amused smile stretched to his ears, but Nichol slumped back to hide what might have been a startled reaction. Before Dorothy could drive another comment to her newly defenseless comrade, Duo said a touch more seriously, "You might enjoy our High Priestess then."
Dorothy's ears pricked, "High Priestess?"
"Performers here have this continuing habit of using pseudonyms." He explained, pushing his fingers into the pockets of his black trousers. "The High Priestess . . . well she was the first one to deny my flirtations."
"Oh, don't get me wrong," Dorothy let her eyes roam over Duo's slender build, "I never deny any flirtations."
"Well," Nichol rejoined the conversation with an interruption, "There was that one date with Quatre. The boss's son." He added for Duo. "Should have turned him down, Dotty."
"I thought you like girls." Duo seemed inclined to take a chair and sit a while, speaking quickly.
"I do." Dorothy set down her drink after a long sip to delay her next comments; "He's the nicest kid and was after me forever. Although, we have nothing in common. We went to a rodeo where he bought us both brown fedoras and . . ."
"He thought they were perfect for each other." Nichol's eyes gleamed with sinister pleasure.
"Except . . ." Duo urged, taking one hand from his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the back of the free chair.
"Except he sort of found me . . . entertaining myself . . . with one of the cowgirls." Dorothy shrugged at first, innocently, "She was so attractive just coming from riding a bull with her hair mussed and her flushed coloring." Then she frowned, more somberly, "Quatre took it very well."
"He's a good kid," Nichol relented, respecting and carefully noting Dorothy's change in humor. "Actually got married just last weekend. We were at the wedding."
Duo released his grip on the chair and stood straight again, "Well, watch for her. She always finishes the show with a song. Real touching." He tapped the chair a few times in hesitation, then they all heard someone call his name. "Well, I've gotta go earn my keep."
"I don't know, Nichol," Dorothy said lazily, but without as much teasing as before, "He didn't seem opposed to the idea . . ."
"Quiet, Dotty." Nichol scowled. Then realizing his bottle was empty set it heavily against the table and crossed his arms.
A few other performers had continued in the background of their conversation. In their newest silence, they got to watch a young woman calling herself "The Princess of Peace" read a rather boring political dissertation that had not a wit of practical application underlying it.
"That was precious." Dorothy's only comment, as even her clapping seemed sarcastic.
The following performer introduced himself as "The Prince."
"Of all the people, it's that damn pod boy." Nichol hissed, still reeling from the way Duo had laughingly draped an arm and then his entire body around Nichol before giving him another bottle.
The lighting made the newest presenter's blond hair seem tinted green, the way that too much swimming in a concrete pool might cause. Dorothy recognized him as well. After working in side-by-side cubicles for most of their tenure at the company, a new executive had decided to stir the ranks and encourage variety to the social dynamics between the co-workers. That had only succeeded in making him the most hated member of management and earned him a host of vile nicknames. "Pod boy" which was the least offensive remained Nichol's favorite.
"If only I had . . . an olive . . . or something to throw at him." Nichol rested his face in his hands so that they mostly covered his ears.
After listening to "pod boy" read some poem about the isolation of ego for a few minutes, Nichol and Dorothy resorted to their immediate company for entertainment. Duo appeared again, this time having decorated Nichol's beer with crimson ribbon.
"Isn't that cute?" Nichol quipped, trying not to let the college boy unnerve him. The game amusing their server to no end. This time Duo did take the extra seat, swinging it around so he could sit backwards letting his arms rest on the rounded wire back.
"I heard the High Priestess is singing a new one tonight. She was inspired by something or somebody to change at the last minute." Duo's comment seemed commonplace, but the way he let each word linger peeked Dorothy's attention. She simply raised an eyebrow, lest Nichol likewise catch on. But the wiry Russian was still trying to get the bow off the neck of his bottle. Duo nodded, trying not to smile, pushing his tongue into his cheek, and seeming all the more mischievous.
"Duo." The voice came like a polite warning, and then the hostess was at Duo's shoulder, "No chatting with friends."
"These are customers I'm entertaining, Hilde." Duo whined cheerfully, gazing up at his co-worker but not getting up.
"Hi," Hilde grinned cautiously, twirling the black beads of her necklace around one finger. She was half worried about the behavior of her staff, half noticing the more unusual costumes of the guests. "He's not annoying you, is he?"
"Yes." Nichol said, not looking up, but trying at the ribbon's knot with his too short fingernails.
"No." Dorothy contradicted with a winning smile. "Duo's been a pleasure. It's our first time here."
"After the first performances, there is the main show." Hilde sounded almost as if she were reading a practiced script like the employees at the local Sea World. "It's a fifteen minute piece written by one our local artists. Each week we put on a new show and it's an opportunity for them to have their work actually performed and it gives us the most fresh imaginative works."
"And afterwards, her High Priestliness sings." Duo wiggled his eyebrows at Dorothy who simply smiled back with her lips closed.
That was enough to remind Hilde of her mission, "Alright, Duo. At least refill Heero's chai now and again."
"Green tea chai. The drink of champions." Duo sprang up and twisted the chair back around properly again. "I'm right on it." He said accidentally inches from Hilde's face as he spun her direction. Then after swooping up the mug from the Asian man's table, he darted off quite fast toward the bar on the far side.
For the first time, the reader looked up from his Salinger and set the paperback copy flat against the tabletop. He noted that the mug was missing and pulled his glasses from his nose and set them folded properly and facing him on top of the book. He turned very serious dark blue eyes, noticeable even in the limited light toward Hilde.
"Hey sweetie," Hilde chirped across the short way, "How's it going?"
"I've finished," He said factually, and shifted his gaze just enough to observe Dorothy and Nichol.
"So have I," Nichol said smugly, dangling the freed ribbon and tossing it to the side. "That server of yours is a little fishy." Nichol said, and Dorothy noticed that the hostility had worn away from his typical dry humor. He was enjoying himself.
"Duo's finishing his undergraduate degree." Hilde confirmed their suspicions, "He reads some of his poetry every now and again. It's a bit traditional with rhyme and meter, what a surprise, huh? But it's good stuff."
"I swallowed a goldfish once."
They all turned to see Heero still listening in on their conversation. Hilde chuckled with an adoring and amused look on her face. Dorothy thought it more prudent to make a small comment about how they might come back and when would Duo be reading again since Nichol might like that.
The show lasted about fifteen minutes and it was uninterrupted by Duo or anything else. It was a clever little piece that both Dorothy and Nichol felt worthy of acknowledgement. Right after the last cast call and round of bows on stage, Duo skirted their end of the room depositing an undecorated bottle in front of Nichol. "Last one." Dou waved his finger, then set another drink in front of Dorothy. "Now," he leaned in between them and lowered his voice as if to speak with the utmost confidence, "This is a special drink that Wufei cooks up back. It's the Lady's favorite." He said 'lady' with extra solemnity. "It's not sweet, don't worry." He said more quickly, "She says that the flavor will accentuate the lyrical atmosphere of her song tonight. Whatever that means?" He stood up and chuckled, "Enjoy."
"What a strange boy." Nichol's brow knitted together. Dorothy looked back blankly.
Then the spotlight stopped buzzing and, a moment later, the light was gone. Hours after entering the Candlelight Muse, those were the first few moments that it was only lit by candlelight. Dorothy felt her first shiver of premonition. All of Duo's coy comments had been easily dismissed before. Mutual preference did not necessarily equate compatibility. That was a lesson that she had been learning over and over again. She lifted the drink to take a sip. Finding it not as sour, but certainly not sweet. Dorothy pulled in her lower lip, letting the relative darkness hide a moment of emotional honesty.
As her eyes adjusted, Dorothy could see that someone had stepped onto the stage. The best was the outline of a woman, tall before she took a seat on a stool. The light never came back on, when the music began. A simple melody on piano, that slipped into slowly played chords of harmony as the woman began to sing:
***
Just for a thrill
You turned the sunshine to rain
Just for a thrill
You filled my heart with pain
To me, you were my pride and joy
To you, I was a mere little toy
A plaything
That you could toss around at will
***
With the thought that she must keep breathing, Dorothy drank again.
"Isn't that . . ." Nichol whispered, but Dorothy stopped him by putting her hand on his arm. He did, reluctantly and leaned back in his chair.
***
Just for a thrill
You made my life one sad song
Just for a thrill
You just lead me along
Although you are gone and having your fun
To me you're still the only one
Because you made my heart stand still
Just for a thrill
Just for a thrill
***
When the song was over, the light returned and Nichol could see clearly the woman on the stool. She hadn't slipped away in the dark like the time before. He could see her eyes glistening as she lifted her lashes to survey the crowd of anonymous faces. Obviously searching for one person in particular.
But with one look, Nichol knew that Dorothy had disappeared. Her glass half-empty.
But neither of them had expected to see the one person they both had spent so much time trying to escape from. Their jolly company had splintered some months ago, and the juvenile outings and adventures had been a vain attempt to continue without their missing third.
"How'd that go over?" Dou sat in Dorothy's empty seat. His smile truly hesitant for the first time all evening.
Nichol continued to watch her sitting on the stool, the long red dress as crimson as the red ribbons in her braided hair. Her left arm loose as the right arm fell across her lap, still cradling the microphone. The clapping politely lingered. She smiled, a peculiar half-way smile to accept their appreciation. But no one would know how truthful the song might be. How truthful for someone like Dorothy. Nichol himself only knew the truth in part.
"She's gone, isn't she?" Nichol hated pointing out the obvious even though the boy was forcing him to. "Went over just plain marvelously, I'd say. Damn."
"Now be honest," Duo tried, hoping for a better response. Lifting his voice a little, "Une recognized her as soon as she walked in. And it wasn't as if I didn't try to warn you. I thought the ribbon would have tipped you off."
"If I were honest?" Nichol steeled Duo's eyes with his own and then smiled as if speaking with a simpleton, "But I'm always honest. Lies don't hurt near as much as the truth does."
"And the truth is?"
"I would have never hurt her like that."
"I don't think . . ." Duo implored.
"No, you didn't think. If you had . . . " Nichol scolded calmly, surprising himself with the patience he acquired after the shock of seeing Une.
"If you'd let me finish," Duo responded in kind, and Nichol stopping mid- word, his mouth still open with a little surprise at Duo's tone. "I don't think it went over so badly. Look." The college boy turned so that he pointed with his chin toward the stage.
As the rest of the establishment went back to their drinks, their books, and their own company, a tall and slim blonde girl had suddenly appeared at the neck of the stage. She set her first brown buckled shoe on the step and then walked up so that they could see the full blue socks and her pale knees and where her trim legs disappeared up the light blue sundress. The High Priestess, as she called herself in this shadowy home of pseudonyms, turned toward her and for a moment they watched each other's unsurprised faces - as if they both knew they'd meet again in this place, at this time.
Dorothy shook her head. Her hair charmingly knotted and twirled down in strands, waving with each movement. "You're drinks are always mixed the same strange way. I would have known it was you even if you hadn't sang."
"You need a change after downing all that sour nonsense." Une's speaking voice, so different from her singing voice was low and most surely not heard by anyone except the young blonde woman in front of her.
"And what's all this nonsense about me treating you like a plaything?" It took Dorothy all the integrity she had to keep from stomping her foot in frustration before of everyone. "I may always be younger than you, but that doesn't mean I didn't take this seriously."
"I know," Une hushed Dorothy's retort with an apologetic look, "I know now. Anyway, I had always hoped."
"Hoped?"
"Ever since you childishly enthralled me with your charms, I doubted your sincerity." Une stood, reaching out with her hand to trace her fingers down Dorothy's cheek, then down along the strands of hair, "Look at you. Always so playful. Who's idea was this? Yours or Nikolai's?"
"Mine." Dorothy said, still guarded, "I like the dreadlock look, and this was close. You should see Nichol's curls."
"I can just imagine." Une smiled for a fraction of a second, then said solemnly, "I don't know how you found this place, but when Duo came back and said he'd found the saddest girl in the world for me. Then he told me about your rodeo story and I knew it was you."
"I'd never guess that you'd sing professionally," Dorothy admitted, "We just came here by chance. To get my mind off of you . . ." She laughed weakly.
"I heard Quatre got married." Une stepped forward, and both of them seemed to forget where they were. "I made Duo try to find out as much as he could."
"Last weekend, yes." Dorothy breathed deeply and smelled the floral scent that had troubled Nichol earlier. She fought back a smile. "So I seduced you, huh? I could have been wrong, but I think it was you that kissed me first."
"I don't kiss just anyone, Dorothy." Une said her name so slowly that Dorothy responsively shivered from a dozen memories immediately called to mind.
"Not just anyone?" Dorothy sought out the reassurance that had slipped from her so easily before, "Would you kiss a childish woman in knee-high socks?"
"I think so." Une's eyes were close.
"Can we still be friends?" Dorothy said without guile. A bit intoxicated by the closeness of that smell that had been so familiar.
"I think so." Une whispered, the softest of caresses as her lips leaned into Dorothy's. "There's that charm again."
"Am I still the only one?" Dorothy pulled back a fraction tilting her neck back. "Because it hurt enough the first time you left. You left me alone with Nichol!"
"You say it like that's the worst I could have done to you." Une chuckled.
"Well, we need to work on the forgiving a bit." Dorothy suggested thinly resisting. She rested her left hand appreciatively on the curve of Une's hip and curled her fingers into the dress. Loosening them again, she leaned into the hand with a bit more demanding. Coming closer to say, "And I want my ring back that you gave me." Pressing with her ring finger, "The silver one that went there to say I was taken."
"Ah, yes." Une nodded once, "Once we settle on the forgiving bit."
"Fair enough," Dorothy felt the tension between her shoulders relax a fraction. "So where do I start? When do we begin?"
Une answered by pulling Dorothy in by the fabric of the sundress and kissing her solidly.
"And I would say that's a good sign, actually," Duo continued his ongoing commentary, as he and Nichol watched the two women conversing until the spot light suddenly went out. "So, now that my work is done, what are you up to Nicky?"
"Don't you ever call me that again." Nichol growled with half of his normal venom, admitting his own relief. He did feel a small amount of gratitude to the kid for making the connections for Une before she and Dorothy could have a completely surprised reunion. He suspected that would not have gone over nearly as smoothly.
"Duo!" Hilde slid up to their table, glancing with a still bemused expression at Nichol's disarray and then back at her boyish server, "Heero and I are calling it a night. I broke my heel, on my shoe, can you believe that? And while Heero insists he can repair it for me, I'm seeing this as an excuse to go shopping tomorrow. If we're not busy doing something else." She added the last bit suggestively wrapping herself around her boyfriend's arm.
"Aha!" Duo chimed in, "Any potential for a threesome?"
"Only when she makes me." Heero said.
Nichol couldn't read the Japanese man's face. Even when Heero raised his eyebrows as if expecting a response, Duo's chuckle was halting.
"Heero, luv." Hilde rubbed his arm affectionately, "No one gets your sense of humor."
"I guess not." Heero shrugged.
When they were gone, Duo whistled. "What a wild couple."
" 'Wild' is not the word I would use." Nichol argued, he finished off the last of his drink. "Well, Dorothy's disappeared. Don't fancy I'll see her again. Tonight anyway. In the end, I swear you'd think I was a ghost the way they forget me." He balanced his chin wearily with one hand and glanced around feeling rather abandoned.
"I close, but everyone's clearing out of here pretty fast." Duo commented, "I could drive you home."
Nichol thought about it for a minute. Then two, while Duo sat patiently, trying to keep from smiling.
The end.