OUT OF TUNE
Chapter Eleven: Earthbound
Told ya the updates would be coming fast!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing *sad face*
Mr. Caffeer shook his head dejectedly as he took in the depressing sight of a sullen Trowa being held by his sister Catherine. The glaring white lights of the hospital waiting room were cheerful, only making the sight more horrific. Marameia was trying to stifle a yawn, having declared earlier that she would wait with Uncle Trowa for Aunt Dorothy to get better. Lady Une's long brown hair hid her face, but her shaking shoulders gave away that she was crying. Heero was standing apart from the group, his eyes deadlocked on Quatre, who was sitting calmly, almost unaffected by the trauma of the rest of the group. His long legs were crossed and his hands folded over his top knee. His own eyes were drifting from Trowa's face to Dorothy's door down the hall from where they sat.
Everyone saw him serenely walk in to the apartment with Catherine, and they had all seen him exit with Dorothy. And when Trowa returned three hours later to a very concerned group of people with the news of Dorothy's admittance to the hospital, all heads turned to Quatre for an explanation. Including Trowa, who had flown into a blind rage at the sight of who was once his best friend.
Accusations flew as Trowa pointed at Quatre, screaming curse words despite Marameia's presence. Quatre had stood quietly, taking it all in and only Catherine, who was standing closest to him, could see the smug, self-assured look in his aquamarine eyes. As soon as Duo had calmed Trowa down, the group took off to the hospital to check on their friend. The Caffeer's were waiting for them there and the introductions were short and bitter.
Trowa looked up from his sister's shoulder to lock his eyes on Quatre, who sat across from him. His gaze conveyed all the hate that threatened to boil over and make him wipe that look of his Arabian holier-than-thou face. The look that the two had shared before Trowa left to find Dorothy had made it all clear to him. Quatre didn't want Dorothy, he didn't care for her. And Trowa would be damned if he let him take her away from him if only to hurt her.
He could, and would, let her go if he knew she was going to be loved, but not if she was going to be hurt. However, as he shifted his gaze, he landed on Dorothy's door. He shouldn't have left like that. Knowing that he could have potentially killed her tore at his heart and the hate he felt for Quatre was know being equally directed at himself.
He pulled away from Catherine and stood up, beginning to pace. He didn't deserve to be comforted.
Marameia looked up from Lady's lap, her wide eyes following Trowa. She untangled herself from her coat that served as her blanket and moved toward him. She reached up and took his larger hand in her own and laid her head on his waist.
"Aunt Dorothy will be better, Uncle Trowa, don't worry," she said softly, smiling up at him. Trowa, for the first time in a long time, let a lone tear escape his eyes. He bent down, face to face with the girl, trying to smile through his tears.
"That's right hon.," he said, his voice cracking. He picked her up and set her back down next to Lady and continued his pacing.
A loud yawn from Hilde made the group pause and look at their watches. Slowly, the group ebbed out of the hospital, starting with Duo and Hilde, until only Trowa, Quatre, and Heero were left. Heero, who'd been standing the whole time, finally sat down next to Trowa. He placed a calloused hand on the man's thin shoulder and gave it a sympathetic pat. The Heavyarms pilot looked up, surprise in his eyes at the sudden display of emotion.
"Dorothy's gonna pull through," Heero said. Trowa nodded half-heartedly, recovering from the uncharacteristic show of optimism.
"Excuse me, are you the young man who brought Ms. Catalonia in?" an aging man in a starched white coat asked, breaking the moment of companionship. Trowa looked up and nodded.
"Yes," he answered, his voice still hoarse.
"You wouldn't happen to be any relation to her, would you? Or perhaps know of someone we could contact?" he asked, his eyes avoiding the heart-wrenching sight of the man before him. Heero looked up, his Prussian blue eyes reflecting the ice-cold feeling that was now freezing his heart. He'd been in enough hospitals to know that when the doctors asked for relatives, something was wrong. And with only a glance at Trowa's face, Heero knew that he knew it too.
Trowa spoke first.
"No, I'm not relation and I only know of one living relative; what's wrong with her?"
"We don't have the supplies to revive her skin, she's suffering from severe frostbite but so is half of the rest of the colonies. We need to send her to Earth…" Trowa distantly heard the rest of the doctor's speech, heard Heero give the doctor the phone number from Dorothy's black book to contact Duke Dermail, but his mind was repeating the last sentence that he actually listened to.
"We need to send her to Earth…" They couldn't do that now, they just couldn't, in two days the idea that Quatre had proposed earlier would take effect; transportation between Earth and its colonies would be terminated, and Trowa had already designated himself to stay here in the colonies. Dorothy would be on Earth with Quatre and he'd be stuck here, unable to protect her, unable to keep her away from him.
However, she couldn't stay here with him, the frostbite was just too serious. There was no way around it. Trowa looked over at Quatre, still sitting serenely as though none of this was happening. The younger man knew that he'd one and with a confident shake of his blonde head, stood up and grabbed his expensive leather jacket. Trowa, who had once admired his comrade for his kindness, his openness; now hated everything about him, every move, every look, every single god damned thing.
Quatre had won and he knew it. No words were said as the former Sandrock pilot left the waiting room, probably to pack for the trip to Earth.
Defeated, Trowa sank into his chair and stared off at Dorothy's door, ignoring Heero completely.
***
Dorothy awoke to a painful tingling traveling through her body. Each nerve end seemed to be singed with a burning white-hot pinpricks. The sensation of the sheets and her hospital gown against her skin left her body fighting her mind as it commanded her to move. A nurse with friendly brown eyes and mousy hair up in a bun looked into the room and smiled at the girl.
"So you're awake?" she asked, as though the open eyes and grimace upon the girl didn't give it away. Dorothy, in too much pain to snap, only nodded and tried to convey her pain through a whisper.
"What's wrong with me?"
The nurse had to lean in close to hear the whisper and Dorothy had to repeat herself several times before the woman understood.
"You were out in that nasty weather for so long that your skin has been severely damaged by frostbite. Is it hurting?" she asked, as though she were asking what she'd like for dinner. Dorothy nodded in answer to the question and the nurse's hands snapped together in an excited clap. "That's a good thing," she said. "Means the skin's still alive!"
Her enthusiasm made Dorothy grumble to herself silently however, her mental pain caused by the nurse's presence was relieved when the doctor made his entrance.
"Awake, that's good. Your friends have been very worried about you, young lady," he said like an old uncle seeing his niece. The nurse turned her attention to the man.
"Her skin still has feeling Doctor," she said. The doctor nodded, his relief well hidden.
"Good, good. However, the situation still stands," he said sadly. He shooed the nurse out of the room, and closed the door leaving behind a very confused Dorothy.
'What situation?' she thought desperately. Dorothy closed her aching eyelids and tried to remember what had happened before she blanked out. 'Had it been Quatre who brought her here? Was she on Earth now?' Questions circled her head and just as she felt ready to scream, the door opened again.
If she hadn't been bed-ridden, Dorothy would have jumped into the arms of the man who walked into her door. Before her stood Trowa, being led in by the doctor.
"Miss, I hope you don't mind but this young man has been insisting to see you," the doctor said. Dorothy, her lips stinging, smiled. Trowa sat down in the armchair next to her bed. "Before I leave you two alone, I'd like to thank you young man, for getting this girl so fast for treatment." And with that, the doctor closed the door and left the two alone.
Trowa kept his eyes on the floor, avoiding the sight of Dorothy. Her skin was a patchwork of white and light yellow and she looked frailer than ancient porcelain. However, the fighter that was this woman he was about to lose reigned inside still and Dorothy lifted her hand despite her body's protests and laid it over Trowa's. The stinging pain that traveled up her arm at the contact was bearable compared to the pleasure inside of her knowing that Trowa would not move his hand away.
Trowa looked up at her, his green eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Dorothy lifted her other hand to caress his face however, her body was too weak and she fell short of her target.
"Trowa?" she ventured, her voice hoarse, quiet, and shaking.
"Dorothy, Quatre, he-" Trowa began but fell short at the hurt look in Dorothy's eyes. Her lips were severely chapped and it hurt her to speak but she knew that something needed to be said before Trowa went any further.
"I didn't want him to kiss me, Trowa," she explained. Trowa shook his head, disbelieving. He still felt that Dorothy had feelings for Quatre but that it was his duty to keep her away from him, for her heart's safety.
"You don't need to lie Dorothy," he replied, looking away from her pale blue eyes. However, Dorothy's hands reached for his face, this time reaching their target.
"Look at me," she said, her whisper almost forceful. Trowa gave in and did so. "I didn't want him to kiss me, Trowa. I tried to make you stop from walking away but he kissed me again," she declared, her eyes sincere. Trowa closed his eyes, wishing that she would stop lying to him so wonderfully. However, as he closed his eyes his mind stumbled on the image of her and Quatre together.
His initial take on the scene was of two lovers engaged in a passionate kiss, yet as he investigated the mental image, his mind ventured forth the obvious. Dorothy's look as Quatre kissed her hadn't been blissful; her eyes were tightly shut and her face was pinched in a grimace. Trowa's eyes opened to see Dorothy peering hopefully back at him.
"I'm sorry Dorothy," Trowa whispered, leaning in and gently kissing her forehead. Dorothy's eyes closed in minimal discomfort and a pleasure that swept her away from that pain for a few moments before his lips left her skin.
"Dorothy!" came a deep, baritone from the doorway. The couple turned quickly to see the last man they needed to see at that moment. Duke Dermail had made his presence known.
"Grandfather!" Dorothy choked out in surprise before the burly man, in an extremely odd display of affection, swept the girl into a snug embrace. Trowa pulled back, stunned at the show. Dorothy's face squeezed into a tight grimace as waves of pain shot through her body at the feel of her Grandfather's arms clutching her close
"I came as soon as Quatre phoned me in my meeting." The Duke gave Trowa a withering look from behind the screen of his granddaughter's hair.
"Ahem." Came from the doorway. Trowa looked up again to see yet another person enter the room. However, this time it was the doctor.
"Duke, it is a pleasure to see you," the doctor announced, bowing lightly at the waist. The Duke let go of his granddaughter quickly and bowed in return. Dorothy fell back into her pillows with a small groan of displeasure. "My Duke, I'm afraid I have bad news to deliver about the condition of your granddaughter." The doctor paused, as if wanting to add suspense to the declaration.
"Well, hurry it up my good sir, I do not have all day!" the Duke exclaimed urgently. The doctor nodded rapidly.
"Of course, forgive me. Dorothy's skin is regaining feeling and is still alive. However, we will still need to send her to Earth for recovery. Dorothy, you'll be sent to a hospital in Neo-Australia where they are already expecting your arrival."
"When do I have to leave?" Dorothy inquired, her eyes on Trowa in a sorrowful look.
"Tomorrow morning, as soon as the shuttle arrives."
Sorry, I didn't want it to be so short but I needed to get this up and posted before I got too many reviewers climbing down my throat *rolls eyes* lol. Love y'all, I'll be updating soon!
MadameHotaru.of.87
Chapter Eleven: Earthbound
Told ya the updates would be coming fast!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing *sad face*
Mr. Caffeer shook his head dejectedly as he took in the depressing sight of a sullen Trowa being held by his sister Catherine. The glaring white lights of the hospital waiting room were cheerful, only making the sight more horrific. Marameia was trying to stifle a yawn, having declared earlier that she would wait with Uncle Trowa for Aunt Dorothy to get better. Lady Une's long brown hair hid her face, but her shaking shoulders gave away that she was crying. Heero was standing apart from the group, his eyes deadlocked on Quatre, who was sitting calmly, almost unaffected by the trauma of the rest of the group. His long legs were crossed and his hands folded over his top knee. His own eyes were drifting from Trowa's face to Dorothy's door down the hall from where they sat.
Everyone saw him serenely walk in to the apartment with Catherine, and they had all seen him exit with Dorothy. And when Trowa returned three hours later to a very concerned group of people with the news of Dorothy's admittance to the hospital, all heads turned to Quatre for an explanation. Including Trowa, who had flown into a blind rage at the sight of who was once his best friend.
Accusations flew as Trowa pointed at Quatre, screaming curse words despite Marameia's presence. Quatre had stood quietly, taking it all in and only Catherine, who was standing closest to him, could see the smug, self-assured look in his aquamarine eyes. As soon as Duo had calmed Trowa down, the group took off to the hospital to check on their friend. The Caffeer's were waiting for them there and the introductions were short and bitter.
Trowa looked up from his sister's shoulder to lock his eyes on Quatre, who sat across from him. His gaze conveyed all the hate that threatened to boil over and make him wipe that look of his Arabian holier-than-thou face. The look that the two had shared before Trowa left to find Dorothy had made it all clear to him. Quatre didn't want Dorothy, he didn't care for her. And Trowa would be damned if he let him take her away from him if only to hurt her.
He could, and would, let her go if he knew she was going to be loved, but not if she was going to be hurt. However, as he shifted his gaze, he landed on Dorothy's door. He shouldn't have left like that. Knowing that he could have potentially killed her tore at his heart and the hate he felt for Quatre was know being equally directed at himself.
He pulled away from Catherine and stood up, beginning to pace. He didn't deserve to be comforted.
Marameia looked up from Lady's lap, her wide eyes following Trowa. She untangled herself from her coat that served as her blanket and moved toward him. She reached up and took his larger hand in her own and laid her head on his waist.
"Aunt Dorothy will be better, Uncle Trowa, don't worry," she said softly, smiling up at him. Trowa, for the first time in a long time, let a lone tear escape his eyes. He bent down, face to face with the girl, trying to smile through his tears.
"That's right hon.," he said, his voice cracking. He picked her up and set her back down next to Lady and continued his pacing.
A loud yawn from Hilde made the group pause and look at their watches. Slowly, the group ebbed out of the hospital, starting with Duo and Hilde, until only Trowa, Quatre, and Heero were left. Heero, who'd been standing the whole time, finally sat down next to Trowa. He placed a calloused hand on the man's thin shoulder and gave it a sympathetic pat. The Heavyarms pilot looked up, surprise in his eyes at the sudden display of emotion.
"Dorothy's gonna pull through," Heero said. Trowa nodded half-heartedly, recovering from the uncharacteristic show of optimism.
"Excuse me, are you the young man who brought Ms. Catalonia in?" an aging man in a starched white coat asked, breaking the moment of companionship. Trowa looked up and nodded.
"Yes," he answered, his voice still hoarse.
"You wouldn't happen to be any relation to her, would you? Or perhaps know of someone we could contact?" he asked, his eyes avoiding the heart-wrenching sight of the man before him. Heero looked up, his Prussian blue eyes reflecting the ice-cold feeling that was now freezing his heart. He'd been in enough hospitals to know that when the doctors asked for relatives, something was wrong. And with only a glance at Trowa's face, Heero knew that he knew it too.
Trowa spoke first.
"No, I'm not relation and I only know of one living relative; what's wrong with her?"
"We don't have the supplies to revive her skin, she's suffering from severe frostbite but so is half of the rest of the colonies. We need to send her to Earth…" Trowa distantly heard the rest of the doctor's speech, heard Heero give the doctor the phone number from Dorothy's black book to contact Duke Dermail, but his mind was repeating the last sentence that he actually listened to.
"We need to send her to Earth…" They couldn't do that now, they just couldn't, in two days the idea that Quatre had proposed earlier would take effect; transportation between Earth and its colonies would be terminated, and Trowa had already designated himself to stay here in the colonies. Dorothy would be on Earth with Quatre and he'd be stuck here, unable to protect her, unable to keep her away from him.
However, she couldn't stay here with him, the frostbite was just too serious. There was no way around it. Trowa looked over at Quatre, still sitting serenely as though none of this was happening. The younger man knew that he'd one and with a confident shake of his blonde head, stood up and grabbed his expensive leather jacket. Trowa, who had once admired his comrade for his kindness, his openness; now hated everything about him, every move, every look, every single god damned thing.
Quatre had won and he knew it. No words were said as the former Sandrock pilot left the waiting room, probably to pack for the trip to Earth.
Defeated, Trowa sank into his chair and stared off at Dorothy's door, ignoring Heero completely.
***
Dorothy awoke to a painful tingling traveling through her body. Each nerve end seemed to be singed with a burning white-hot pinpricks. The sensation of the sheets and her hospital gown against her skin left her body fighting her mind as it commanded her to move. A nurse with friendly brown eyes and mousy hair up in a bun looked into the room and smiled at the girl.
"So you're awake?" she asked, as though the open eyes and grimace upon the girl didn't give it away. Dorothy, in too much pain to snap, only nodded and tried to convey her pain through a whisper.
"What's wrong with me?"
The nurse had to lean in close to hear the whisper and Dorothy had to repeat herself several times before the woman understood.
"You were out in that nasty weather for so long that your skin has been severely damaged by frostbite. Is it hurting?" she asked, as though she were asking what she'd like for dinner. Dorothy nodded in answer to the question and the nurse's hands snapped together in an excited clap. "That's a good thing," she said. "Means the skin's still alive!"
Her enthusiasm made Dorothy grumble to herself silently however, her mental pain caused by the nurse's presence was relieved when the doctor made his entrance.
"Awake, that's good. Your friends have been very worried about you, young lady," he said like an old uncle seeing his niece. The nurse turned her attention to the man.
"Her skin still has feeling Doctor," she said. The doctor nodded, his relief well hidden.
"Good, good. However, the situation still stands," he said sadly. He shooed the nurse out of the room, and closed the door leaving behind a very confused Dorothy.
'What situation?' she thought desperately. Dorothy closed her aching eyelids and tried to remember what had happened before she blanked out. 'Had it been Quatre who brought her here? Was she on Earth now?' Questions circled her head and just as she felt ready to scream, the door opened again.
If she hadn't been bed-ridden, Dorothy would have jumped into the arms of the man who walked into her door. Before her stood Trowa, being led in by the doctor.
"Miss, I hope you don't mind but this young man has been insisting to see you," the doctor said. Dorothy, her lips stinging, smiled. Trowa sat down in the armchair next to her bed. "Before I leave you two alone, I'd like to thank you young man, for getting this girl so fast for treatment." And with that, the doctor closed the door and left the two alone.
Trowa kept his eyes on the floor, avoiding the sight of Dorothy. Her skin was a patchwork of white and light yellow and she looked frailer than ancient porcelain. However, the fighter that was this woman he was about to lose reigned inside still and Dorothy lifted her hand despite her body's protests and laid it over Trowa's. The stinging pain that traveled up her arm at the contact was bearable compared to the pleasure inside of her knowing that Trowa would not move his hand away.
Trowa looked up at her, his green eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Dorothy lifted her other hand to caress his face however, her body was too weak and she fell short of her target.
"Trowa?" she ventured, her voice hoarse, quiet, and shaking.
"Dorothy, Quatre, he-" Trowa began but fell short at the hurt look in Dorothy's eyes. Her lips were severely chapped and it hurt her to speak but she knew that something needed to be said before Trowa went any further.
"I didn't want him to kiss me, Trowa," she explained. Trowa shook his head, disbelieving. He still felt that Dorothy had feelings for Quatre but that it was his duty to keep her away from him, for her heart's safety.
"You don't need to lie Dorothy," he replied, looking away from her pale blue eyes. However, Dorothy's hands reached for his face, this time reaching their target.
"Look at me," she said, her whisper almost forceful. Trowa gave in and did so. "I didn't want him to kiss me, Trowa. I tried to make you stop from walking away but he kissed me again," she declared, her eyes sincere. Trowa closed his eyes, wishing that she would stop lying to him so wonderfully. However, as he closed his eyes his mind stumbled on the image of her and Quatre together.
His initial take on the scene was of two lovers engaged in a passionate kiss, yet as he investigated the mental image, his mind ventured forth the obvious. Dorothy's look as Quatre kissed her hadn't been blissful; her eyes were tightly shut and her face was pinched in a grimace. Trowa's eyes opened to see Dorothy peering hopefully back at him.
"I'm sorry Dorothy," Trowa whispered, leaning in and gently kissing her forehead. Dorothy's eyes closed in minimal discomfort and a pleasure that swept her away from that pain for a few moments before his lips left her skin.
"Dorothy!" came a deep, baritone from the doorway. The couple turned quickly to see the last man they needed to see at that moment. Duke Dermail had made his presence known.
"Grandfather!" Dorothy choked out in surprise before the burly man, in an extremely odd display of affection, swept the girl into a snug embrace. Trowa pulled back, stunned at the show. Dorothy's face squeezed into a tight grimace as waves of pain shot through her body at the feel of her Grandfather's arms clutching her close
"I came as soon as Quatre phoned me in my meeting." The Duke gave Trowa a withering look from behind the screen of his granddaughter's hair.
"Ahem." Came from the doorway. Trowa looked up again to see yet another person enter the room. However, this time it was the doctor.
"Duke, it is a pleasure to see you," the doctor announced, bowing lightly at the waist. The Duke let go of his granddaughter quickly and bowed in return. Dorothy fell back into her pillows with a small groan of displeasure. "My Duke, I'm afraid I have bad news to deliver about the condition of your granddaughter." The doctor paused, as if wanting to add suspense to the declaration.
"Well, hurry it up my good sir, I do not have all day!" the Duke exclaimed urgently. The doctor nodded rapidly.
"Of course, forgive me. Dorothy's skin is regaining feeling and is still alive. However, we will still need to send her to Earth for recovery. Dorothy, you'll be sent to a hospital in Neo-Australia where they are already expecting your arrival."
"When do I have to leave?" Dorothy inquired, her eyes on Trowa in a sorrowful look.
"Tomorrow morning, as soon as the shuttle arrives."
Sorry, I didn't want it to be so short but I needed to get this up and posted before I got too many reviewers climbing down my throat *rolls eyes* lol. Love y'all, I'll be updating soon!
MadameHotaru.of.87