This is dedicated to all the fan fiction and hentai that I have read over my year as a Gundam Wing fan in which I have laughed at, bantered, etc-d the work. For all those authors, now you have something of mine to ridicule.
Enjoy, for now the universe is at peace.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I know who does. But, if I did, I'd BUY the titles so I DIDN'T HAVE TO WRITE THIS!!!
All originals characters, settings, and situations are copyrighted and owned by me, so please don't steal them!!! Thank you ^-^
Author: A. Mused
Title: This 1920 NeverLand
Warnings: A little bit of beginning confusion; original characters; dream sequences; politics - both internal and external; bisexuality (yet no yaoi…is this blasphemy?); pasts of certain characters; little profanity - not to much to be a bother;
READ THIS PLEASE: If you are still uncomfortable or uneasy in any way with the September 11th attacks, I heavily encourage you to not read this fic as it contains themes of violence and militarism, acts of terrorism, and threats of genocide. So please don't get offended. What happened was in no way inspiration to me.
Pairings: none presently (wow. can you believe it? we could do the implied ones…lets!)
HY+RD, DM+HS, TB+OC, QRW+OC, CW+OC, CB+OC
Point of View: Heero Yuy
001: One
The old steamboat slid on the surface of the night river, hardly underneath the dark water itself. The little buoyancy was apparent in the frequent, extreme shifting of the vessel, rocking left to right in measures enough to make me nervous. It might just rock too far to one side and the entire little craft would capsize, throwing me and my companion into the brackish water.
This made me anxious, excluding all else I was thinking. The look of the water was unnerving altogether, a deathly aura misted over it like a midnight fog.
It had the feeling of the myth river Styx, descending down into a perpetual, cavernous Hell; lurching along torturously slow.
The thick white candles were based on the dark wood railing with hardened wax, the long, dancing flames throwing glowing reflections onto the water.
Beyond the river, there was nothing but ceaseless black. Nothing but the river, the boat, and the darkness beyond.
It was a place you only came to in your nightmares, for it was the fear of the unknown beyond the boat that froze in your throat and crawled in your stomach.
Despite all this, my companion didn't seem to mind any of it. She was too busy with her Tarot deck, shuffling cards twice as large as her doll-like hands, over and over again.
And she was a child. She had a fountain of crimped, gold-spun hair pouring from the middle part in her hair falling to her lower back, skin like flesh-colored porcelain, full pink-glossed mouth, miniature nose, fine ears, and even the shape of her long-lashed bright eyes and brow was all to that of a life-size doll standing in a toy-store window. But her eyes were strangest of all. Unearthly, they appeared like two brilliant blue fires burning inside her skull, eternally and endlessly shinning out through her sockets. Dressed in a white cotton nightgown, she sat cross-legged inside a colossal royal blue blanket fringed with bright gold threads.
She stopped shuffling, only to slam the deck of cards onto the dark wood floor of the boat, the sound echoing into the black. As the craft shifted to the right, the deck came undone, the cards spilling into a straight line toward the rightward motion.
"Draw quickly and wisely, as there are no second chances." She instructed in one breath, not taking her eyes off the cards.
As the boat plunged to the left, at a speed I was unfamiliar with, my own miniature hand shot out, drawing back with me one of the cards. With one hand, she accumulated all the cards together back into a deck, save for one, which I had selected.
"What did you draw?"
I flipped the card.
"Fifteen. Le Diable."
"Do you think it was divine, chance, or your subconscious that caused you to acquire that particular card a second time?"
"None."
She smiled and shut her eyes.
"What then?"
"I drew from the exact place twice. The second time I got the card I received the first time. You're cheating."
"I'm not cheating anymore than you are," she retorted playfully.
I threw the card back at her. It spun in the air before she caught it between her fore and middle fingers as if it were a knife.
She reopened her eyes and placed the card back into the deck.
"I think you're trying to tell me something." I accused.
"Or just scare you."
I sighed.
"How old are you?"
"I'll be five in April. Why do you ask?"
"For a four year old, you know too much."
She giggled.
"I think my education is going along just as it should."
"What's your name, then?"
"I'll tell you mine as soon as you tell me yours."
I leaned back on my elbows to stare up into the infinite black above me.
"I already told you."
She began shuffling the cards again.
"Everyone has a name, even if you haven't found yours yet."
I stared at her a moment, figuring out what she meant, then returned my stare to the midnight sky.
"I don't think I'll ever find it."
She stopped shuffling.
"You just haven't heard your name. Once you do, then you'll know it's the name that God or fate or whoever intended for you. No one is born with their real name. They must search and find it."
I looked back down at her as she stared at me.
"For a four year old, you know too much." I repeated.
She smiled as she stared up into the black sky, placing the deck into a fold in the blanket.
"What will you call me when you see me?" she asked softly.
"What should I call you?"
She was completely still for a minute, just staring above us.
"My father once told me that he named me after someone who truly cared for him. For no absolute reason or compensation, she loved him." she met my gaze with those strange blue eyes. "You should do the same."
"Name you after someone who truly cared for me?"
"Unconditionally loved you, yes."
I stared up into the sky again, not thinking, just letting my small body sway with the rocking of the boat, trying to feel the water beneath the craft with my mind, just being quiet and still.
"...Glory..." I whispered.
"What's that?"
I was quiet for another minute.
"The only person who truly cared for me unconditionally. I called her Glory." I let my eyebrows pull to my lashes, "I suppose I can call you that now, too."
She smiled and shut her eyes again.
"Glory. I like it."
"And what will you call me?"
She snapped her eyes open and the pupils darted to the right as the craft
swayed to the left.
"What 's-"
"Ssh." Glory put her fore-finger to her mouth and continued to stare to the
right.
I sat up and looked to that direction, but I didn't see anything but black.
After relaxing her shoulders, Glory looked back to me, dropping her hand as she smiled.
"Someone's calling you."
I got to my feet staring down at her, a bewildered look etched across my
face.
She shook her head and smiled.
"From the outside. Someone's calling you from the outside."
I looked back to the right, then at Glory again.
"I don't understand."
"Good-bye, Prince," she whispered warmly in her small, childish voice, "I'll see you again, have no worry."
The boat, the candles, the river, Glory, everything was flooded away by the
enclosing black.
________________________________________________________________________________
"Nice weather we're having, don't you think?"
I squeezed my eyes shut then opened them slowly. It was very dark, sometime after midnight. The ceiling of the colony wasn't very visible, but it was there behind the slow-traveling indigo-white clouds. The temperature was maybe in the high fifties, somewhat unusual for this colony in December. The air at least tasted cold.
I was lying on my back on a stone bench with my knees over the edge, my feet flat on the ground. A blinding streetlight was staring down at me. My right hand was behind my head, my left arm across my chest and stomach. I could feel the cold stone just under my thin shirt, watching my breath come out in frozen smoke from my nostrils as I awoke from my dream.
"Unusual place for a nap, isn't it?" a deep voice chuckled, "You must have been tired."
I shot up to a sitting position and looked to my right, the opposite side of the bench.
A young man sat there, looking at me through thick, round sunglasses. He wore a black button up-shirt with a white tie, a black formal jacket with a white gold watch-chain hung between the pockets, and black slacks. He looked about 20 or so, muscular but lithe. He had a white top-hat covering his dark-colored hair, white gloves over his hands, his dark-skinned face was pleasant, as he was smiling. In his hands was a walking cane, therefore the young man was probably blind, giving reason to his nightly shades. He was possibly coming from some party by the look of him.
"You're a bit young to be out so late." He said slowly. His voice was deep, melodic. Almost sadly amused - in a very twisted way.
I was confused at first, then thought again to the stranger I was dealing with.
"Who are you?" I questioned him.
His smile broadened, his lips pulling back over to his pearl white teeth.
"Now that's a rude way to start a conversation."
My eyebrows scrunched together magnetically.
"But, as seeing that you just woke up, I suppose I can't very well account you for your manners. My name is of unimportance, who I am is of no consequence." He reached up and removed his hat, which followed a peculiar thing. His dark hair sprang out, some of it falling over his shades in long bangs, some sticking straight up in a row at the back of his head. He then replaced the top-hat, letting alone his fallen bangs. "And you, my friend?"
I thought on what name to give the gentleman, ignoring the fact he didn't exactly give me his.
"Duo Maxwell."
He looked away from me toward the adjacent street.
"Is that so?"
I scowled toward him, as he probably knew who I was.
"I think you're lying to me, but you're not exactly telling the truth, either." He returned his stare to me, "Isn't that so, Mr. Yuy?"
My entire body tensed, every single muscle prepared for whatever would come next.
"What do you want with me?"
"I'm just a friend, Mr. Yuy, here just to give you some advice. And maybe, to
offer some guidance."
He reached into his jacket.
"Now, where did I put it..."
I watched him as he rummaged around in his inner jacket pocket, somewhat displeased that he couldn't find what he wanted.
"Ah!"
His smile returned.
He pulled out a thin, white-square Polaroid.
"This," he said, "might be of some help to you."
Handing the photograph to me, I took it after hesitating a moment.
At first, I couldn't make out what the picture was of. Something impossible to capture in a moment. It was two people standing in the same place in different positions, looking in different directions. I didn't recognize the person looking to the left, but the person looking to the right was of no mistake.
"Quatre." I murmured.
"Mr. Winner will be in a very vulnerable position very soon. He might make some unfavorable decisions. It'd be better for him to have someone there with a perspective outside of the complication. Someone with a clearer mind."
I stopped staring at the picture and looked back up at the gentleman.
A bus then pulled up to the bench, few people in the seats.
"Sorry I can't stay around longer, Mr. Yuy, but I really must be going. Think on what I said, but act quickly. Time, unfortunately, is not on your side."
He then stood, tipped his hat very slightly, and walked to the opened bus door all the while tapping his cane to the ground in rhythm with his stride.
"Good evening." He said as the bus door shut behind him, then shot away down the street.
I looked down at the picture again. He didn't say Quatre was in danger, but he'd need help with something.
How would he know what was going on with Quatre? Who was he anyway? And why would he come to me to help Quatre? Was he some kind of bodyguard, or some inside man looking to clear his guilty conscience? I hadn't seen Quatre in person for the past four years.
Scowling, I put the picture in the back pocket of my jeans and headed back up the block. Checking my watch, it read 2:45 AM, Sunday.
I sighed as I thought of the fit Sato was going to throw when I got back.
________________________________________________________________________________
Sliding the key into the door knob, I turned the lock and the knob, stepping inside my shared apartment. The blue light from the TV on my right flickered slowly and dimly, the sound on mute. Sato was curled up in the black leather arm chair, sleeping with her lips slightly parted, breathing somewhat loudly.
At least I wasn't going to get hell for staying out so late.
Sato was in her white and pink checkered pajamas, complete with bunny slippers with the worn faux pink fur. She'd had those since she was eight. Her dark blonde hair was still in the bun she wore when she was on duty, but it was falling apart by loose strands. Her dark skin and features were contoured by the blue light and black shadows of the living room.
I shut the door quietly, re-locking and bolting it. I then moved quickly past the sleeping Sato to the narrow hallway. Retrieving a flannel afghan from the nearby closet, I returned to the small living room. Unfolding it, I slowly draped it over my sleeping roommate.
She stirred, but didn't wake.
Picking up the remote from the glass coffee table, I turned my attention to the television.
A news report, and by the look of the red scrolls at the top and bottom, urgent.
A small picture in the upper left hand corner depicted a handgun, and behind it a picture of Quatre.
Sitting down on the opposing black leather couch, I read the anchorman's lips for the story.
"...there have been no updates on Mr. Winner's current state since his attempted assassination at 10:42 PM last night..."
My eyes narrowed.
That gentleman...he said I needed to help Quatre out with something, and that I didn't have much time. So while I was out, Quatre was shot?
What's going on?
"...for those of you just tuning in..."
I leaned forward.
"Mr. Quatre Raberba Winner, one of the most well-known delegates from the L4 colony and the head of Winner family's resource corporation, was almost assassinated after the lights were cut at a charity concert he was playing for. Witness' claim to have heard a single gunshot from the balcony area after the blackout, then observed Mr. Winner lying on the stage after the lights returned. When the ambulance arrived, Mr. Winner was reported to still be alive, but information has not been released since he left for the hospital-"
"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"
Sato was awake.
I turned toward her. Her face was red, and she looked all but happy.
"Out."
She lowered her head.
"Out. You've been OUT? Doing WHAT?"
"Walking."
"AND?"
"Sleeping."
She rolled her head on her shoulders as her eyes went full circle, muttering an incredibly irritated 'Oh my God.'
"SLEEPING? WHERE?"
"A bench."
She lowered her head into her hands, covering her eyes.
"He has a PERFECTLY good bed in a SAFE apartment and yet he INSISTS on scaring HALF the life out of me by SLEEPING on the streets." Sato muttered.
I stood up and headed toward the adjacent kitchen.
"Don't worry about me." I said as I took out a glass.
"How can I NOT worry about you? You're always finding some kind of trouble to get yourself into! And with your health these days, how can I not worry, Heero?" Her voice got softer as she ended her sentence.
"I don't know," she started muttering again after a minute, half to me, half to herself, "I just don't want to stay up so late, waiting for you to come home, praying to God you're not dead."
I turned on the faucet and started filling the glass.
She gave out a loud breath and turned her head away from me.
"Are you even listening?"
The glass filled, I turned off the faucet, then headed for the bathroom in the hallway.
"Yes." I said as I passed.
"How many times have we had this conversation?" Sato's voice came from the living room, but by her tone she didn't want an answer and I didn't want to venture one.
I turned to my left to the small bathroom with dark blue tiling on the ceiling and walls.
Opening the mirror cabinet, I pulled out the little orange container. Undoing the child-proof lid, I swallowed two white pills and drank the entire glass of cold water, thereafter replacing everything except the glass.
Going back to the kitchen, Sato was standing in the hall doorway, all 5' 1" of her, arms crossed.
"When was the last time we talked about this?"
"Saturday, last week."
Her face tensed up.
"You came home with a bullet in your shoulder. I don't want to play sick nurse to you either, Heero."
Her shoulders relaxed and she uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides.
"You insisted on doing it."
She tensed up again.
"You're missing the point!"
"I know the point."
"What is it?"
"You want me to 'get a regular job with regular hours so I'm too tired to go out at night, getting myself into all kinds of trouble,' as you put it."
"Now why don't you do that?"
"I can't take one presently, you know that."
She rolled her eyes, knowing full well what I meant.
"Then why don't you just stay home, where you're safe?"
"Are you saying I can't take care of myself?"
"I'M SAYING I DON'T WANT YOU COLLAPSING SOMEWHERE! CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"
I gave a long sigh out through my nose.
"Sato-"
"No," she stopped me, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
She pushed passed me toward her room.
"Go out and do whatever the hell you want, Heero."
"Sato-"
"No, you can take care of yourself."
She stood in the doorway of her room, the doorknob in her hand.
"JUST DON'T COME BACK HERE AND BITCH AND MOAN TO ME!"
And with that, she slammed the door shut.
I sighed again. After another midnight argument ending with doors being slammed, nearly bringing down the complex, I heard Sato's cracked sobs coming from inside her room.
As usual.
Deciding it better not to go to my room, I left the glass in the sink and went and lied down on the couch.
Shutting my eyes, I just hoped I wouldn't have anymore strange dreams.
Enjoy, for now the universe is at peace.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I know who does. But, if I did, I'd BUY the titles so I DIDN'T HAVE TO WRITE THIS!!!
All originals characters, settings, and situations are copyrighted and owned by me, so please don't steal them!!! Thank you ^-^
Author: A. Mused
Title: This 1920 NeverLand
Warnings: A little bit of beginning confusion; original characters; dream sequences; politics - both internal and external; bisexuality (yet no yaoi…is this blasphemy?); pasts of certain characters; little profanity - not to much to be a bother;
READ THIS PLEASE: If you are still uncomfortable or uneasy in any way with the September 11th attacks, I heavily encourage you to not read this fic as it contains themes of violence and militarism, acts of terrorism, and threats of genocide. So please don't get offended. What happened was in no way inspiration to me.
Pairings: none presently (wow. can you believe it? we could do the implied ones…lets!)
HY+RD, DM+HS, TB+OC, QRW+OC, CW+OC, CB+OC
Point of View: Heero Yuy
001: One
The old steamboat slid on the surface of the night river, hardly underneath the dark water itself. The little buoyancy was apparent in the frequent, extreme shifting of the vessel, rocking left to right in measures enough to make me nervous. It might just rock too far to one side and the entire little craft would capsize, throwing me and my companion into the brackish water.
This made me anxious, excluding all else I was thinking. The look of the water was unnerving altogether, a deathly aura misted over it like a midnight fog.
It had the feeling of the myth river Styx, descending down into a perpetual, cavernous Hell; lurching along torturously slow.
The thick white candles were based on the dark wood railing with hardened wax, the long, dancing flames throwing glowing reflections onto the water.
Beyond the river, there was nothing but ceaseless black. Nothing but the river, the boat, and the darkness beyond.
It was a place you only came to in your nightmares, for it was the fear of the unknown beyond the boat that froze in your throat and crawled in your stomach.
Despite all this, my companion didn't seem to mind any of it. She was too busy with her Tarot deck, shuffling cards twice as large as her doll-like hands, over and over again.
And she was a child. She had a fountain of crimped, gold-spun hair pouring from the middle part in her hair falling to her lower back, skin like flesh-colored porcelain, full pink-glossed mouth, miniature nose, fine ears, and even the shape of her long-lashed bright eyes and brow was all to that of a life-size doll standing in a toy-store window. But her eyes were strangest of all. Unearthly, they appeared like two brilliant blue fires burning inside her skull, eternally and endlessly shinning out through her sockets. Dressed in a white cotton nightgown, she sat cross-legged inside a colossal royal blue blanket fringed with bright gold threads.
She stopped shuffling, only to slam the deck of cards onto the dark wood floor of the boat, the sound echoing into the black. As the craft shifted to the right, the deck came undone, the cards spilling into a straight line toward the rightward motion.
"Draw quickly and wisely, as there are no second chances." She instructed in one breath, not taking her eyes off the cards.
As the boat plunged to the left, at a speed I was unfamiliar with, my own miniature hand shot out, drawing back with me one of the cards. With one hand, she accumulated all the cards together back into a deck, save for one, which I had selected.
"What did you draw?"
I flipped the card.
"Fifteen. Le Diable."
"Do you think it was divine, chance, or your subconscious that caused you to acquire that particular card a second time?"
"None."
She smiled and shut her eyes.
"What then?"
"I drew from the exact place twice. The second time I got the card I received the first time. You're cheating."
"I'm not cheating anymore than you are," she retorted playfully.
I threw the card back at her. It spun in the air before she caught it between her fore and middle fingers as if it were a knife.
She reopened her eyes and placed the card back into the deck.
"I think you're trying to tell me something." I accused.
"Or just scare you."
I sighed.
"How old are you?"
"I'll be five in April. Why do you ask?"
"For a four year old, you know too much."
She giggled.
"I think my education is going along just as it should."
"What's your name, then?"
"I'll tell you mine as soon as you tell me yours."
I leaned back on my elbows to stare up into the infinite black above me.
"I already told you."
She began shuffling the cards again.
"Everyone has a name, even if you haven't found yours yet."
I stared at her a moment, figuring out what she meant, then returned my stare to the midnight sky.
"I don't think I'll ever find it."
She stopped shuffling.
"You just haven't heard your name. Once you do, then you'll know it's the name that God or fate or whoever intended for you. No one is born with their real name. They must search and find it."
I looked back down at her as she stared at me.
"For a four year old, you know too much." I repeated.
She smiled as she stared up into the black sky, placing the deck into a fold in the blanket.
"What will you call me when you see me?" she asked softly.
"What should I call you?"
She was completely still for a minute, just staring above us.
"My father once told me that he named me after someone who truly cared for him. For no absolute reason or compensation, she loved him." she met my gaze with those strange blue eyes. "You should do the same."
"Name you after someone who truly cared for me?"
"Unconditionally loved you, yes."
I stared up into the sky again, not thinking, just letting my small body sway with the rocking of the boat, trying to feel the water beneath the craft with my mind, just being quiet and still.
"...Glory..." I whispered.
"What's that?"
I was quiet for another minute.
"The only person who truly cared for me unconditionally. I called her Glory." I let my eyebrows pull to my lashes, "I suppose I can call you that now, too."
She smiled and shut her eyes again.
"Glory. I like it."
"And what will you call me?"
She snapped her eyes open and the pupils darted to the right as the craft
swayed to the left.
"What 's-"
"Ssh." Glory put her fore-finger to her mouth and continued to stare to the
right.
I sat up and looked to that direction, but I didn't see anything but black.
After relaxing her shoulders, Glory looked back to me, dropping her hand as she smiled.
"Someone's calling you."
I got to my feet staring down at her, a bewildered look etched across my
face.
She shook her head and smiled.
"From the outside. Someone's calling you from the outside."
I looked back to the right, then at Glory again.
"I don't understand."
"Good-bye, Prince," she whispered warmly in her small, childish voice, "I'll see you again, have no worry."
The boat, the candles, the river, Glory, everything was flooded away by the
enclosing black.
________________________________________________________________________________
"Nice weather we're having, don't you think?"
I squeezed my eyes shut then opened them slowly. It was very dark, sometime after midnight. The ceiling of the colony wasn't very visible, but it was there behind the slow-traveling indigo-white clouds. The temperature was maybe in the high fifties, somewhat unusual for this colony in December. The air at least tasted cold.
I was lying on my back on a stone bench with my knees over the edge, my feet flat on the ground. A blinding streetlight was staring down at me. My right hand was behind my head, my left arm across my chest and stomach. I could feel the cold stone just under my thin shirt, watching my breath come out in frozen smoke from my nostrils as I awoke from my dream.
"Unusual place for a nap, isn't it?" a deep voice chuckled, "You must have been tired."
I shot up to a sitting position and looked to my right, the opposite side of the bench.
A young man sat there, looking at me through thick, round sunglasses. He wore a black button up-shirt with a white tie, a black formal jacket with a white gold watch-chain hung between the pockets, and black slacks. He looked about 20 or so, muscular but lithe. He had a white top-hat covering his dark-colored hair, white gloves over his hands, his dark-skinned face was pleasant, as he was smiling. In his hands was a walking cane, therefore the young man was probably blind, giving reason to his nightly shades. He was possibly coming from some party by the look of him.
"You're a bit young to be out so late." He said slowly. His voice was deep, melodic. Almost sadly amused - in a very twisted way.
I was confused at first, then thought again to the stranger I was dealing with.
"Who are you?" I questioned him.
His smile broadened, his lips pulling back over to his pearl white teeth.
"Now that's a rude way to start a conversation."
My eyebrows scrunched together magnetically.
"But, as seeing that you just woke up, I suppose I can't very well account you for your manners. My name is of unimportance, who I am is of no consequence." He reached up and removed his hat, which followed a peculiar thing. His dark hair sprang out, some of it falling over his shades in long bangs, some sticking straight up in a row at the back of his head. He then replaced the top-hat, letting alone his fallen bangs. "And you, my friend?"
I thought on what name to give the gentleman, ignoring the fact he didn't exactly give me his.
"Duo Maxwell."
He looked away from me toward the adjacent street.
"Is that so?"
I scowled toward him, as he probably knew who I was.
"I think you're lying to me, but you're not exactly telling the truth, either." He returned his stare to me, "Isn't that so, Mr. Yuy?"
My entire body tensed, every single muscle prepared for whatever would come next.
"What do you want with me?"
"I'm just a friend, Mr. Yuy, here just to give you some advice. And maybe, to
offer some guidance."
He reached into his jacket.
"Now, where did I put it..."
I watched him as he rummaged around in his inner jacket pocket, somewhat displeased that he couldn't find what he wanted.
"Ah!"
His smile returned.
He pulled out a thin, white-square Polaroid.
"This," he said, "might be of some help to you."
Handing the photograph to me, I took it after hesitating a moment.
At first, I couldn't make out what the picture was of. Something impossible to capture in a moment. It was two people standing in the same place in different positions, looking in different directions. I didn't recognize the person looking to the left, but the person looking to the right was of no mistake.
"Quatre." I murmured.
"Mr. Winner will be in a very vulnerable position very soon. He might make some unfavorable decisions. It'd be better for him to have someone there with a perspective outside of the complication. Someone with a clearer mind."
I stopped staring at the picture and looked back up at the gentleman.
A bus then pulled up to the bench, few people in the seats.
"Sorry I can't stay around longer, Mr. Yuy, but I really must be going. Think on what I said, but act quickly. Time, unfortunately, is not on your side."
He then stood, tipped his hat very slightly, and walked to the opened bus door all the while tapping his cane to the ground in rhythm with his stride.
"Good evening." He said as the bus door shut behind him, then shot away down the street.
I looked down at the picture again. He didn't say Quatre was in danger, but he'd need help with something.
How would he know what was going on with Quatre? Who was he anyway? And why would he come to me to help Quatre? Was he some kind of bodyguard, or some inside man looking to clear his guilty conscience? I hadn't seen Quatre in person for the past four years.
Scowling, I put the picture in the back pocket of my jeans and headed back up the block. Checking my watch, it read 2:45 AM, Sunday.
I sighed as I thought of the fit Sato was going to throw when I got back.
________________________________________________________________________________
Sliding the key into the door knob, I turned the lock and the knob, stepping inside my shared apartment. The blue light from the TV on my right flickered slowly and dimly, the sound on mute. Sato was curled up in the black leather arm chair, sleeping with her lips slightly parted, breathing somewhat loudly.
At least I wasn't going to get hell for staying out so late.
Sato was in her white and pink checkered pajamas, complete with bunny slippers with the worn faux pink fur. She'd had those since she was eight. Her dark blonde hair was still in the bun she wore when she was on duty, but it was falling apart by loose strands. Her dark skin and features were contoured by the blue light and black shadows of the living room.
I shut the door quietly, re-locking and bolting it. I then moved quickly past the sleeping Sato to the narrow hallway. Retrieving a flannel afghan from the nearby closet, I returned to the small living room. Unfolding it, I slowly draped it over my sleeping roommate.
She stirred, but didn't wake.
Picking up the remote from the glass coffee table, I turned my attention to the television.
A news report, and by the look of the red scrolls at the top and bottom, urgent.
A small picture in the upper left hand corner depicted a handgun, and behind it a picture of Quatre.
Sitting down on the opposing black leather couch, I read the anchorman's lips for the story.
"...there have been no updates on Mr. Winner's current state since his attempted assassination at 10:42 PM last night..."
My eyes narrowed.
That gentleman...he said I needed to help Quatre out with something, and that I didn't have much time. So while I was out, Quatre was shot?
What's going on?
"...for those of you just tuning in..."
I leaned forward.
"Mr. Quatre Raberba Winner, one of the most well-known delegates from the L4 colony and the head of Winner family's resource corporation, was almost assassinated after the lights were cut at a charity concert he was playing for. Witness' claim to have heard a single gunshot from the balcony area after the blackout, then observed Mr. Winner lying on the stage after the lights returned. When the ambulance arrived, Mr. Winner was reported to still be alive, but information has not been released since he left for the hospital-"
"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"
Sato was awake.
I turned toward her. Her face was red, and she looked all but happy.
"Out."
She lowered her head.
"Out. You've been OUT? Doing WHAT?"
"Walking."
"AND?"
"Sleeping."
She rolled her head on her shoulders as her eyes went full circle, muttering an incredibly irritated 'Oh my God.'
"SLEEPING? WHERE?"
"A bench."
She lowered her head into her hands, covering her eyes.
"He has a PERFECTLY good bed in a SAFE apartment and yet he INSISTS on scaring HALF the life out of me by SLEEPING on the streets." Sato muttered.
I stood up and headed toward the adjacent kitchen.
"Don't worry about me." I said as I took out a glass.
"How can I NOT worry about you? You're always finding some kind of trouble to get yourself into! And with your health these days, how can I not worry, Heero?" Her voice got softer as she ended her sentence.
"I don't know," she started muttering again after a minute, half to me, half to herself, "I just don't want to stay up so late, waiting for you to come home, praying to God you're not dead."
I turned on the faucet and started filling the glass.
She gave out a loud breath and turned her head away from me.
"Are you even listening?"
The glass filled, I turned off the faucet, then headed for the bathroom in the hallway.
"Yes." I said as I passed.
"How many times have we had this conversation?" Sato's voice came from the living room, but by her tone she didn't want an answer and I didn't want to venture one.
I turned to my left to the small bathroom with dark blue tiling on the ceiling and walls.
Opening the mirror cabinet, I pulled out the little orange container. Undoing the child-proof lid, I swallowed two white pills and drank the entire glass of cold water, thereafter replacing everything except the glass.
Going back to the kitchen, Sato was standing in the hall doorway, all 5' 1" of her, arms crossed.
"When was the last time we talked about this?"
"Saturday, last week."
Her face tensed up.
"You came home with a bullet in your shoulder. I don't want to play sick nurse to you either, Heero."
Her shoulders relaxed and she uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides.
"You insisted on doing it."
She tensed up again.
"You're missing the point!"
"I know the point."
"What is it?"
"You want me to 'get a regular job with regular hours so I'm too tired to go out at night, getting myself into all kinds of trouble,' as you put it."
"Now why don't you do that?"
"I can't take one presently, you know that."
She rolled her eyes, knowing full well what I meant.
"Then why don't you just stay home, where you're safe?"
"Are you saying I can't take care of myself?"
"I'M SAYING I DON'T WANT YOU COLLAPSING SOMEWHERE! CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"
I gave a long sigh out through my nose.
"Sato-"
"No," she stopped me, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
She pushed passed me toward her room.
"Go out and do whatever the hell you want, Heero."
"Sato-"
"No, you can take care of yourself."
She stood in the doorway of her room, the doorknob in her hand.
"JUST DON'T COME BACK HERE AND BITCH AND MOAN TO ME!"
And with that, she slammed the door shut.
I sighed again. After another midnight argument ending with doors being slammed, nearly bringing down the complex, I heard Sato's cracked sobs coming from inside her room.
As usual.
Deciding it better not to go to my room, I left the glass in the sink and went and lied down on the couch.
Shutting my eyes, I just hoped I wouldn't have anymore strange dreams.