See the first chapter for warnings.
A/N: A sort of retraction: some of you might have noticed that last chapter I decided to make Treize a scientist in Romafeller, but in chapter 2 he was introduced as being the president of the company. So let's just pretend that I said he was the 'head of the research department' instead of the president. Because that was a mistake.
Read and Review – and it'll make me happy, AND it'll make me write faster!
1.6: First Dates
Catherine nervously glanced around the waiting room. It was filled with the sorts of people Catherine had expected to find at a free clinic on a Friday morning – mothers with sick children, vagrants, and a few elderly couples who looked to be on their last breath. In comparison, Catherine felt like royalty. She was clean, she was well dressed, well fed, and healthy. Except for that one thing. The freak thing. The thing that gave her panic attacks when she even looked at a mirror. That one thing.
She started tapping her nails against the strap of her backpack.
That 'one thing' that had led to her roommates suggesting she get psychiatric help when they found her staring at the mirror for over an hour, after having woken them all up at five in the morning by screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming because she had stared in the mirror and seen not her face, but the face of a middle-aged woman at least forty pounds over weight. And the face had had a body to match – and it hadn't existed in just the mirror.
Catherine had thought she was hallucinating, especially after she started screaming, and then looked in the mirror again to see that she was looking at herself – her real self.
But later that day she had been staring at her nails, debating what color polish to buy, and wondering if blue would be too flashy – and suddenly her nails WERE blue; and it WAS way too flashy.
A few more incidents like the first two had followed, and Catherine had decided o go to the clinic. She wasn't sure what they could test her for – she still wasn't entirely convinced that
she wasn't crazy – but she knew that going through the University health center was a very bad idea.
And so now she was sitting in the clinic, waiting for more than an hour, surrounded by people she had never met, and would never meet again. It was the ideal situation.
Until Trowa Barton walked in the door.
Catherine tried to sink back and almost tried to change her appearance, but before she could Trowa's sharp eyes landed on her. His mouth tightened, but he nodded to her. Catherine managed a weak smile in return.
Trowa collected the paperwork from the front desk and came to sit down beside her.
"Hey, Trowa. Are you feeling okay?"
He frowned slightly and started to work on the forms.
"I'm okay. Just a check-up."
"Oh. Don't you have insurance with the school? For your scholarship?"
"Don't you?" He didn't even look up from the papers, and Catherine felt like bashing her head against the wall in frustration.
Once, three years ago, they had been able to hold conversations –well, Trowa had allowed Catherine to talk AT him with a lot more restraint than he was showing now. But clearly that time was long past.
"I haven't really seen you around much – outside of class – lately."
Predictably Trowa didn't respond.
Three years ago he had been enrolled in a photography course and decided to take pictures of some of the dancers, for one assignment. Catherine had volunteered immediately after seeing him – he was, after all, completely gorgeous and somewhat well known after his victory the previous year at the Futures tournament in San Diego. They had hit it off – or, at least, Trowa had agreed to go out with Catherine on several dates after that. Over the course of a month their relationship had progressed to the point that Catherine invited Trowa over to her apartment for the night. Up to that point, Trowa had kissed her, fondle her a bit, but never pushed for anything more. It was always Catherine forging ahead, and that night she had meant to forge to the end – and she had, but not the end she had had in mind. In retrospect, it probably hadn't been a good idea to excuse herself to the bathroom and come back completely naked. The deer-in-headlights look on Trowa's face would forever be branded in Catherine's memory, as would Trowa's confession that, while he thought Catherine was 'beautiful, and nice, and bossy as hell', he preferred guys.
For a few weeks after that they had talked – gone out to movies – and then slowly drifted back into their own circles. But Catherine thought of him often, and wondered how he was doing with his 'preferences' these days.
"Seeing anyone?"
That got a reaction out of him. He looked up at her quickly, and then looked back at his papers.
"Catherine."
"Trowa. I'm just trying to be friendly. Trust me, I've learned my lesson. I won't try to jump your bones again any time soon."
"Jesus, Cathy, you put me in a corner."
"I'm sorry. I've said it before. It was a mistake." She rolled her eyes. Trowa wasn't just quiet, he was also shy, and, she secretly thought, a bit of a prude.
"So, are you?"
Now Trowa rolled his eyes. He stood up and turned in his forms, when he returned he was smiling slightly.
"I've got a date tonight."
"Oh? Anyone I know? Is he hot?"
"Looks aren't everything, Cathy."
"Trowa, I'm a dancer. Looks are everything."
He smiled at that, remembering, perhaps, how happy she was when that had gone out together and been complimented on being the most attractive couple at an event.
"He's not bad looking," Trowa allowed. After a moment he added. "He's pretty hot, in a California kind of way."
"A California kind of way? What, he looks like Duo Maxwell?"
Trowa shrugged noncommittally.
"Oh my god, you're going on a date with Duo Maxwell?"
He glared at her and she lowered her voice.
"I thought you didn't like bossy people," she said.
"He's not – Cathy."
"I'm just teasing. Lighten up."
"Catherine Bloom," a female doctor in a white lab coat called out her name.
"Well, that's me. I'll see you around. Good luck on your date."
Trowa gave her a good-natured glare and Catherine laughed.
She followed the doctor back into an exam room.
"Well, Catherine, what brings you in today?"
The doctor, an attractive blonde woman, wore an open, friendly smile.
"Um, even though this is a free clinic, there's still patient confidentiality, right?"
Now the doctor frowned slightly. Catherine looked at her name tag.
"Um, right, Dr. Winner?"
"Yes, of course there is. Now, what seems to be the problem?"
Catherine drew in a deep breath and concentrated on changing her appearance. She thought about being blonde, blue eyed, and petite, like the woman across from her.
Dr. Winner gasped and Catherine smirked slightly.
"Yeah, um, I'm not sure WHAT the problem is, but this last week, I've been able to change my appearance."
"Wow."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Is there anything you can do – um, try to figure out what's wrong with me?"
Dr. Winner frowned again and then shook her head. She drew in a deep breath and seemed to regain her air of open, friendly professionalism.
"Well, I'm not really sure what I can test for. To start off, let's do some blood work – I want a workup of you when you're, well, YOU, and some of when you take on someone else's appearance. Also I'm going to take a tissue sample, and see if there is anything irregular in the cellular structure. Maybe a bone marrow sample as well? Okay, let me go and get some things and I'll be right back."
She paused and reached out to touch Catherine's hand.
"Catherine, I promise, this will remain confidential, but this is truly extraordinary. I'm not sure if I'll be able to help you find out what happened."
"Okay, I understand. I just thought – it's worth a try, right? And really, I came to make sure that I wasn't crazy, that this was really happening."
"Oh, it's happening. And if you're crazy, then so am I. I'll be right back."
And, for the first time in a week, Catherine felt the edge of anxiety ease back and was able to breath again. She might be different, but the doctor wasn't treating her like a freak. Not like some sideshow at a circus. Which meant that Catherine might be able to tell her friends – if a total stranger could accept her situation, then surely her roommates could too?
Catherine shook her head. Not likely. Even if her friends accepted the fact that, miraculously, Catherine could change her appearance at will, they would demand she do it for their amusement. She would become a freak.
Quatre discarded his traditional Sunday uniform of khaki's and white button up and instead pulled out a pain of tight, sand washed jeans and a pink rugby shirt. He smiled grimly and debated whether or not he should put on mascara, then decided that was going a bit far.
He knew his father would be angry enough that Quatre showed up in pink, but, in Quatre's mind, bringing Relena to a family dinner was more than enough to balance out that minor sin. Relena.
That had been an awkward conversation, and Quatre had not been at his most charming, but Relena had laughed and accepted the invitation to dinner. She had even joked that it would be excellent for her expose on him. Quatre had sensed genuine good will from her, and after only a slight, terrified pause, he had laughed at the joke.
And now it was Sunday, and he was due to pick her up in twenty minutes.
Quatre looked at himself in the mirror again and, smirking, popped the collar on his shirt. Oh yeah, his father would love this look.
Relena was waiting in the foyer of her parent's home, looking very presentable in a lavender sundress that hinted at a slim, curved body without broadcasting the fact that she was thin and attractive. It was prefect attire for meeting someone's parents – classy, but not prissy. Quatre had to smile at his line of thought. If he kept this up, he was likely to start critiquing his sisters' sense of fashion at dinner – and that WOULD set his father off.
"You look wonderful," he said to her. She smiled at the compliment.
"You look nice too. I love it when boys have the confidence to wear popped collars. It's soo Edwardian."
Quatre couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but she smiled again and he laughed politely. He opened the back door of the car for her and she joined him in the backseat. She arched an eyebrow at the driver in the front.
"You don't drive yourself around?"
"Not to the family house. Father always sends a car. He probably thinks I wouldn't come otherwise."
Relena frowned.
"I think it's wonderful that you have dinner with your family every week."
"Yes. It's great to catch up with my sisters." It certainly wasn't great in Quatre's mind, but he knew it wasn't polite to ague with your date – and he WAS charming when he wanted to be. Or needed to be, as the case was.
"So, Quatre, not that you aren't cute and sweet and everything, but why the sudden interest in asking me over to meet your Dad? I mean, it's sort of weird timing, because last week my father was telling me that he and your father are looking to invest in some property over in Macau – and then YOU ask me out."
"My father mentioned the same thing to me," Quatre admitted, "and then he said something about it being such a shame that your father had such a plain daughter – how she didn't compare to his OWN daughters. And then I defended your honor – and your beauty – by saying that you were the most beautiful girl on campus, not to mention the smartest and most driven. So he told me to prove it, and I said I would. Well, that YOU would, actually."
Relena blushed, then laughed and hit his arm playfully.
"Stop it. That never happened."
"Hm, maybe not. It doesn't change the fact that you ARE the most beautiful girl on campus."
"But not the smartest and most driven?"
"Fishing for compliments?" He teased.
"Hardly," she tossed her hair over her shoulder and shot him her most pompous look. "I'm just sizing you up so that I can figure out the easiest way to manipulate you."
Strangely, Quatre sensed that she really WAS doing that.
Too bad he's gay. He really is cute.
Quatre wanted to roll his eyes at her thought.
"I'm not gay."
"What?!" Relena looked panicked, and Quatre felt his own surge of panic.
Shit, shit, shit.
"I know that look," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even, not believing how stupid that had been.
"What look?"
"That look – that 'oh, he's so cute and sweet but so obviously gay' look."
Relena blushed again and Quatre allowed himself to relax as her panic turned to embarrassment.
"I'm sorry. I just – really, you aren't gay?"
Quatre frowned slightly and debated with himself how honest he should be with her.
"I might be," he allowed, eventually, after checking to make sure the driver was absorbed in the sports broadcast on the radio.
Relena arched one eyebrow, and Quatre imagined that she was taking metal notes of all this.
"You might be?" She repeated.
"Maybe. I don't really have much evidence one way or the other."
"Huh. What – I mean – what kind of evidence?"
"Well, take you. I think you're pretty. And when you aren't insulting my manhood, I like to talk to you. And we were having a pretty good time flirting, just now, before you ruined it." He smiled, making it clear he was teasing her, and she returned the smile with one of her own. "But sometimes I look at guys, and I think they're attractive. I just don't have much… physical evidence to go on."
"Oh. So you've never kissed a boy?"
"I didn't say I was completely innocent, Relena."
"So you've had sex with a boy?"
Quatre rolled his eyes.
"Is this really first date conversation material? I'm not asking you about YOUR sexual conquests."
"That's because you're a gentleman." Relena smiled at him and then squeezed his hand.
"I'll lay off with the interrogation, for now. But you can't just admit something like that and expect ME not to question you about it."
"Yes, I realize that now," he groused.
She leaned over, quite unexpectedly, and kissed him full on the mouth.
Quatre had no warning – not even from her own mind – and so he sat in shock for a moment before he remembered that it was polite to reciprocate such a gesture. He kissed her back and , as she pulled away, felt bold enough to suck on her lower lip, just enough that she had to hesitate a moment.
Not bad.
Quatre smiled at her mental assessment.
"We aren't going to elope before we get to your house, are we?" She joked.
"No, that's after dinner," he assured her.
Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Quatre thought, as they pulled up to the house.
"Oh shit. I, um, should my hair be covered?" Relena was suddenly self-conscious.
"Um, no. You look perfect. In fact, if you even dared to cover your hair my father would probably throw you out. He's about as against following shar'ia as you can be."
"Oh. Okay."
Together the entered the house, with a brief pause as Quatre introduced Relena to Rashid, and then made their way to the veranda.
"Brace yourself," he whispered to her.
"For what – wow. Are those – who are all those women?"
"My sisters. This is only a third of them, too," he said with a smirk at her shocked expression.
"I thought your father didn't follow shar'ia," Relena whispered back as they walked closer.
"He doesn't. He's had eleven wives, all of them one at a time."
"Eleven?!" Relena pasted a polite smile on her face just in time to greet Ali.
"Ah, so this is the beautiful Relena that Quatre has told us so much about," he said, rising to his feet and greeting her.
Relena shot Quatre a look.
"I told you so," he said.
"Please, sit down and we'll spare you the endless introductions. I'm sure you will get acquainted with each of my daughters in time."
Quatre sensed the panic from Relena at that statement and squeezed her hand.
"Like I would ever marry you," he teased.
"Like I would ever marry you," she returned. "I'm going to have a harem. I think your father has the right idea – one at a time, eleven total. No kids for me, though."
Quatre chuckled and held out her chair before taking his own seat between her and Iria.
He gave his sister a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to face his father.
"I'm sorry if we're late, traffic was a bit heavy," he said.
Ali nodded and waved one hand in forgiveness. And then he took a moment to look at Quatre's attire.
Insolent little brat. Darlian's girl probably already knows he's queer.
Quatre allowed himself a grim smile of victory.
"How is work at the clinic?" He asked Iria.
"Oh, you know, busy. We try to do what we can. I run a free clinic on Tropicana," Iria explained for Relena's benefit.
"That's wonderful," Relena said. "I used to want to be a doctor and join Doctors Without Borders. But I'm too squeamish around blood."
Iria smiled.
"I always thought that Borders was a great thing, but I've also always thought that we need better healthcare at home, too. It's great to help people who are oppressed by dictatorships, but it's also important that we help our own neighbors."
Relena nodded and Quatre sensed that she was quickly starting to like Iria.
Another good sign, in his mind.
"Iria is our little humanitarian," Ali said from the head of the table. "While Alima is our corporate genius." Alima smiled at the rare praise from their father.
I am, too. I just hope that he realizes that Quatre isn't competent enough to run this company before he dies.
"And Quatre? Who is he?" Relena asked, smiling at him.
There was an awkward moment of silence, and a jumble of thoughts from Quatre's sisters and his father. Relena had no idea that she had glanced upon the most contentious person in the family – himself.
"He's our brother and he's a saint for putting up with all of these women," Iria came to his recue, hugging him with one arm. "But I'm sure you've already realized how wonderful he is."
"I have, actually," Relena agreed, her mind troubled.
"I read your latest article in the Rebel," Khadijah said. "I like the fact that you don't abuse your position to write puff pieces. You still maintain your focus."
Relena nodded at the praise.
"Thank you."
"What was the article about?" Ali asked.
Relena blushed and Quatre frowned, trying to remember. He had read it – he thought – but he never put much interest in the school paper.
"The rising number of on-campus incidents of abuse and harassment of female students," Khadijah said, smiling at their father's taken-aback expression. It was hardly the topic for a family dinner. Quatre grinned at his sister, and she winked back at him.
Every once in awhile the two of them aligned in their rebellion against their father.
"Well, it seems Quatre has picked quite the little feminist," Alima said.
"Hm."
Darlian didn't tell me his daughter was one of those. Oh god, is she a lesbian?
Quatre choked on a laugh, earning concerned looks from Iria and Relena.
"So, what are your plans for after you graduate?" Fatima jumped in, trying to keep the conversation flowing.
"How is the baby?" Quatre whispered to his sister.
"Wonderful, still making me sick."
"You do look tired." And he could sense that something was troubling her.
"Boy, you know how to compliment a woman." She sighed. "I've been staying up late researching. I had two bizarre patients come in this weekend, and I'm not sure how to help them."
"Bizarre how?" Quatre asked.
"I can't tell you that, little brother. It's private. But it's also weird. Their blood work came back clean but – oh, Alima's out for blood tonight. Save your date."
"…children?"
"Of course having a family is important, but I intend to go to graduate school first, and then be at least an editor before I even think about having children."
"And how long would that take?" Alima asked, looking smug.
"At least six, maybe ten years."
Alima shot a look at her father.
"Quatre might not have told you, but I went to Harvard for my Masters in Buisness and I had my first son while I was writing my thesis. My forth child will be born in January."
Quatre blinked at that news. He hadn't known his sister was pregnant again.
"Congratulations, Alima," he said. "You really are amazing. It's lucky Dad has such a devoted daughter, and has raised you to be such a hardworking mother."
It was exactly the praise that would allow Alima to relax, and Ali was forced to nod in acknowledgement.
The rest of the dinner passed without incident, and Quatre managed to escape his usual after-dinner conversation with his father because of Relena's presence.
They were safely in the car before they both released long sighs.
"That was awful, Quatre. I can't believe you put me through that. You owe me, big time."
He winced at the peevishness in her voice, but couldn't blame her.
"I am sorry about that. How can I make it up to you?"
Relena looked triumphant at his quick surrender.
"I'll let you know." She turned in the seat so she was facing him more and grabbed his hand. "So, what is the deal with your family politics? Does your Dad know you 'might' be gay? And what is with your sister Alima? And how are you and Iria so normal when everyone else is so crazy?"
"Relena," Quatre was embarrassed at her interest in his family.
"Quatre, I'm not going to write an article about you, that was a joke. I'm just fascinated. Please, tell me."
Quatre frowned, but, almost against his will, he started to tell her about the complicated relationships in his family. As he spoke he felt a headache start to set in.
"Wow. You've got quite the soap-opera of a home life."
"I'm sure yours is just as crazy," he replied.
He felt a wave of sadness from her.
"Not really. It's pretty boring, actually." And then the sadness was gone.
"I've got it. Two dates."
"What?"
"To make up for that really, really horrible first date. You owe me two more dates. One will probably be just as bad – you're going to join my parents and myself for my twenty-first birthday next Saturday."
Quatre winced. That was fair turnabout.
"And the other date?"
"Dinner and a movie, at a date to be named later."
The car pulled up to her house and Relena let herself out before either Quatre or the driver could even remove their seatbelts.
She grinned at him and leaned back in the open door and kissed him again.
"Thank you for the worst date I've ever had. But you do kiss good. For a gay guy."
She winked at him.
"I'm not gay," he muttered and she laughed. "Maybe, anyway."
"Goodnight!" She closed the door and Quatre leaned back in the seat, half-smiling at her teasing.
Duo levitated in mid-air, legs crossed a-la-yogi's and chanted.
His roommate, still high on meth and drunk from the record twelve-beers in an hour, thought it was hilarious.
"Dude, flip upside down again."
Duo obeyed the request and Dan started to laugh uncontrollably.
"Man, I am SOO high right now."
"Yeah, you are," Duo agreed, and then smirked as his cell-phone alarm went off. He allowed himself to drop to the ground and Dan scowled.
"Sorry, dude, I've got a meeting. Freak show hour is over."
Duo grabbed his backpack and was out of the house before Dan could formulate a coherent response.
That morning Duo had been practicing turning invisible, trying to perfect it, and also trying to float at the same time. It was tough, but he had just gotten the hang of it when Dan unexpectedly decided to wake up before noon for the first time in his life.
Dan had thought it was the coolest thing ever, and after dosing himself with his chemicals of choice, demanded that Duo show off.
Since Duo didn't have the ability to destroy the few remaining brain cells in Dan's mind, he had complied and 'performed.'
But now he could escape, and he only hoped that Dan was too high and drunk to remember this tomorrow. Even if he did, however, Duo doubted that he would be chatting with the 'crazy lady' across the way, as the cops had dubbed her when they came by the apartment yesterday and finally cornered Duo. It was lucky that Duo had been able to sell them on his 'poor lady, her husband left her and she must be taking it hard. You know, with drugs and stuff' routine. It wasn't exactly a lie, but Duo definitely wasn't going to tell the cops that 'yeah, she saw me flying, won't happen again, have a good afternoon officers. Oh, you want me to get into the squad car and go to the station? Sure thing.'
Duo snorted to himself and dodged traffic to run across Tropicana and get to Metro, where the group was meeting.
He spotted Trowa and Catherine talking outside the front door and couldn't stop himself from grinning.
"Hey Cathy, how's the stripping going?"
She glared at him, shot Trowa a look, and walked inside.
Trowa shot him an amused look.
"It's our thing. She loves me and doesn't want to come clean."
Trowa nodded sagely.
"She has a habit of falling for gay guys."
"No shit, you too?"
Trowa shrugged one shoulder.
"Um, so, I had a great time Friday."
Trowa smiled slightly.
"Getting a pitcher of beer dumped on you is your idea of a great time?"
"Well, no, but watching you punch the drunk guy was pretty amusing."
Trowa shook his head.
"You're the one that challenged them to a pool game."
"Yeah, well you wanted to go to that bar in the first place."
"So it's my fault we started a bar brawl?"
"Well…." Duo grinned and Trowa shook his head.
"We should do it again, though."
"I don't want to be banned from every bar in town, Duo."
"Not THAT part."
"What, the dinner and the movie part?"
"Yeah, or the making out part after the fight part."
"That part never happened."
"Hm, maybe we should skip the fight, next time, and do that instead?"
Trowa laughed.
"Maybe."
Wufei joined them, glaring and edgy.
"Well, are we going to have this meeting or not? Or did you even bother to prepare, Maxwell?"
Duo rolled his eyes.
"What IS your problem with me? You're the asshole who set me on fire – I should be the pissy one, not you."
"You set him on fire?" Hilde joined them at the perfect moment to piss off Wufei more. His face turned red.
"I did not –"
"Yeah, you did. I have the burnt shirt to prove it."
Trowa arched an eyebrow at this news and Duo put a hand on his chest.
"Down, killer."
"What?" Trowa looked amused. "I wasn't going to punch him too. If he wants to burn your clothes, that's his choice. YOU could punch him, if you wanted to."
Unspoken went the part where Trowa clearly didn't mind if Duo had to walk around naked. Duo blushed, then immediately felt stupid.
"Today?" Catherine was back outside, looking impatient. "They've got a table ready for us. And I want some of that free pizza Duo promised."
Wufei glared at Duo one last time and went inside. Hilde rolled her eyes and followed him.
"You know, if you want to get me naked, you don't have to burn my clothes," Duo said.
"Might be more fun, though," Trowa replied.
"Trowa – does anyone else know how twisted you are?"
"I'm twisted? You're the guy who thinks bar fights are romantic."
Duo rolled his eyes.
"That was ONE time…."
TBC….
