Disclaimers: We own nothing. Damn. When The Curious Girl Realizes She is Under Glass is a Bright Eyes song. It belongs to them, not us. Damn. . . again.

To the Fic!


Five of Pentacles
juniper triton and poe nataku


Two: When The Curious Girl Realizes She is Under Glass

Tomorrow when I wake up
I'm finding my brother
And I'm making him take me back down to the water
That lake where we sailed, and we laughed with our father
I will not desert him
I will not desert him


Some things never change, Quatre thought with a little sigh. How many had it been now? He had been tossed from one school to another, abruptly, without thought or explanation for as long as he could remember. And still, some things just never changed. It was the same in every school, he decided. The new kid was something of a plague, something to be avoided, ignored. Quatre, being the perpetually new kid sat alone at one of many regulation lunch tables and picked at what might have been food. He wasn't exactly sure. Another thing that you could count on. Cafeteria food, that is, being inedible.

Passing a hand through his pale bangs, Quatre made an attempt at happy thoughts. As he sat there, by himself, utterly miserable, Aria was likely causing a scene at home. He imagined Iria holding her manic, flailing twin back as she verbally lashed at their father and insisted on Quatre's own speedy return. What he would have given to be a fly on the wall back at the estate- a mad Aria was truly a sight to behold.

He missed her already, he decided with a wilty half-smile. Some things never change.

Somewhere, far away. . . Well, more like on the other side of the cafeteria, a single, keen-emerald eye watched poor, desolate Quatre as he picked and played with his meal, trying to make himself believe that things would get better. Trowa readjusted his gaze as he caught the sound of clear-ringing footsteps behind him. Reluctant as he was to admit it, there was something familiar about the blonde, something biting at the back of his mind- his memory.

Three chairs were pulled back from the table, scrapping, gnawing tiled floors. After the settling sounds of bodies in seats quieted, Trowa again raised his eyes to great his companions, two of which were known and the other. . .

Trowa Barton, Wufei's voice cut the air with a precision all its own. Gesturing to the grinning boy seated between himself and Heero he added, as though as an afterthought,

Duo Maxwell, the other said, extending a hand in greeting which Trowa, with stoicism, accepted. You related to Mr. Barton, the history teacher? he asked around a quick bite of something greasy.

Trowa shook his head. he said momentarily. I don't think so. He found himself looking away at that, hoping no other explanation would be necessary. Somehow, he felt he was not in the mood to explain his own name. No, not his- someone else's perhaps. He couldn't remember. Until Duo's jovial-baritone rent the air again Trowa hadn't realized where his sights had fallen.

Friend of yours? Duo was asking him, jerking his head in the direction of the solitary blonde.

Trowa made no answer.

He's new, Heero observed in a monotone, as though it explained everything.

Duo at least, was satisfied at this. he exclaimed, clapping a hand on Heero's shoulder and boosting himself from his seat. Heero only glared. I'll invite him over- doesn't look like he knows anyone. Duo was off before his sentence had stopped.

Suddenly uneasy- a strange sense of, (maybe dread?) slipping through him, Trowa excused himself.

What's with Barton? Wufei questioned, following his retreating form with a subtle curiosity.

Heero shrugged his glare off long enough for, well, a shrug, before fixing it back in place.

No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean
Or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I'll see
The sky that has been avoiding me.


Quatre glanced up from the floor as a pair of scuffed black boots halted in the corner of his vision. He followed from boot to face and found himself meeting the violet eyes of another student. He noted a thick chestnut braid dangling down the boys back, ending just before his knees, before smiling sheepishly.

he said, idly noting that he sounded like an imbecile.

the other said, extending a hand in friendship. I'm Duo Maxwell. You new?

Yeah, I'm Quatre.

Duo was saying, backwards straddling the chair to Quatre's right. Me too.

Quatre couldn't help but give a genuine smile at that. At least he wasn't completely alone. Misery loves company, sure, and miseries in common lends to instantaneous bonding. Quatre liked Duo already, and the feeling was more than mutual. A friendly face- an excuse to give up on the futile attempt that had been eating lunch- things were suddenly looking up.

Next on the schedule was economics which, Quatre noted with relief, Duo had as well. His father had majored in economics, once upon a time. Quatre loathed it. Said father had once also had a dream in which his one and only male child followed in his footsteps and took over the family business. Right. The Winner family would sooner be looking up real estate in Hell when the temperature dropped. Running a business of Winner caliber was not high on Quatre's list of favorite things. Ranked some where above death, yes, but under the one where you have your eyes gouged out ala King Lear.

Economics was taught in a stuffy old room by a stuffy old man called Dermail.

Oh, for small suffering sounds.

Today, the time could not have flown fast enough for Quatre.

Well I started this letter
I'm going to send it to Ruba
It'll be blessed by her eyes on the Gulf Coast of Florida


When at last released for the day, Trowa made for his almost-sister's locker to await, and join her walking home. Having shared another two classes with the somehow-strangely-devastatingly-familiar blonde, he was keen now on the day's end and falling head-long into his own bed. She didn't keep him waiting long, rounding the corner with a smile at the sight of him.

Hey, Tro.

with a little nod.

How was your day?

Only a shrug this time.

They left after a quick stop at Trowa's own locker which was on the way out, falling into step when the crowd thinned. Catherine did all the talking which wasn't at all unusual aside from that maybe today she seemed a little distracted. Trowa made several times to ask at this but always thought better of it. If she wanted him to know, he would. No point in pushing things, now was there?

With her feet in the sand,
And one hand on her swimsuit,
She'll recite the prayer of my pen


Wufei walked home with Heero, as he had every day since they were children. Though today perhaps, things were a touch different. Not five steps from campus they had caught up with Duo and realized their general directions to be the same. Wufei and Heero both lived downtown, in the heart of the city where Duo would catch a bus back to his own home. Well, something of a home at least.

Curious and Annoyed. Torn. finally though, Wufei fed the curiosity and entered into something of a conversation with Duo. Heero, however, stared only out ahead of himself, contributing nothing for the sake of the new kid.

Why enroll here, Wufei wanted to know (though demanded was the way it came across) if you live so far out?

Duo thought on that for a moment. Somehow the truth, something like Well, you see, I've been tossed out of every school in my district' didn't seem like the line to win him any friends. Maybe There's something of a homophobia epidemic round my parts. Berserk jocks being a sort of side effect and my having defended my own ass was, well, frowned upon.' Definitely not. Nothing scared off, freaked out, and enraged teenage boys like the word gay. He settled finally on, Good scholarship, which wasn't exactly a lie. Well, not a BIG one anyway.

They parted ways a block from the bus station with a couple see you tomorrow's and a course of later's.

Saying, "Time take us forward.
Relief from this longing.
They can land that plane on my heart;
I don't care.
Just give me November,
The warmth of a whisper,
In the freezing darkness of my room."


Iria and Aria were already there when the final bell rang. Quatre thought he had never been so glad to see them or their horrible would-be-car. The day had had definite up's and down's. Up let's say, was Duo's open friendship and a handful of decent classes. Down's of course being general un-friendliness, lunch quality and economics. There was also this nagging residue in the back of his mind of something obviously forgotten. But what was it?

Aria and Iria exchanged one of those creepy knowing twin looks, the kind where you're certain you've missed out on some sort of silent communication. Shortly though, they pounced for details.

How was it?

Make any friends?

Do I need to kick any asses?

Classes were OK?

Quatre knew not which he wanted more; to scream, laugh or cry. Maybe through his arms around the twins in a hug, or an attempt to strangle them? He settled eventually on a soft smile and vague

But no matter what I would do in an attempt to replace
All these pills that I take, trying to balance my brain
See the curious girl with that look on her face
So surprised she stares out from her display case


When he crawled into his bed that night, Trowa thought sleep to be an illusive wild thing. An animal even he could not tame. An animal with soft, earth-pounding paws and a lullaby-song caught in their speed. He stared past the darkness of his room, past the moist black panes of the window and out into the voids that were his memories.

There was nothing for him there. Only a dream, and a glimpse of golden hair.


TBC

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