AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh my goodness, I'm at chapter 25. I honestly can't put into words how shocked I am that it reached this point. I'd never intended for it to develop a serious plot or for it to even last past potentially chapter 15, but once I started writing it just... flowed. 25 is a big number, so I figure I should toss in some thanks before I continue. First and foremost, thanks to Sharii (hypaalicious) and Gina (TheParadox) for your faithful reviews and for laughing because I somehow manage to toss you all in these crazy situations and keep you in character at the same time. Your reviews mean a lot to me, as much as your laughter.
Finally, thanks to the others who encouraged me to continue this fic and to those of you who have left me reviews or added me to your Author Alerts or Story Watch. I honestly appreciate it. I haven't heard from any of you recently, so if you're still reading and enjoying, I'm glad. I really am.
Enough of the annoying babble: onto the fic!
Chapter 25
Looking at the security camera, Duo shook his head as he watched Sharon Gladden start shaking Checkie Chen and shouting. "What's her vision, anyway?" Duo said over his shoulder to Trowa, who was watching another set of screens.
"Certainly not 20/20," Trowa replied, turning a knob and focusing in on another group. "She mentioned once that she was born two months premature, so her eyes are underdeveloped. Without her glasses, she's technically blind with the world as one big blur." Trowa sighed. "So, Chen has no weapon and Gladden is now blind. This doesn't bode well with their group."
"No," Duo grinned. "But it'll be funny as hell to watch!"
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit of a sadistic statement."
"I aim to please," Duo put his arms behind his head, still grinning as he turned his eyes back to the screen. "Where's Q-man?"
Trowa's gaze softened a little, looking fairly pained. "He has business at home."
Because he was the only male of the Winner family, Quatre was technically the head of the family now in spite of being the youngest of twenty-nine. This meant that if something came up, he had to head home. His father, Zayeed, had left Quatre in charge of the Winner fortune in his will, something he'd written long before his death.
It had been his sister Sibaal who had called him home, Sibaal who looked so much like the late Iria except for the fact that her hair was a shade darker. They had something very important to discuss with him and he had a feeling he knew what it was.
Didn't mean he wanted to deal with it, however.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre entered the living room of the long-since rebuilt manor home and faced his four eldest sisters including Sibaal who rose from the couches. "There is no God but Allah and Muhammed is his prophet," Quatre recited the Shahada in unison with his sisters before taking his proper seat.
"Quatre," Sibaal smiled. His other sisters Soraya, Najya, and Rasmiyah sat calmly and serenely on the couches, looking pensive and calm as they waited for Sibaal to speak. "Thank you for taking the time to see us, brother."
"It's no trouble," Quatre returned the smile, waiting for the words that he knew would be spoken, the argument that he was frankly sick and tired of dealing with.
Sibaal's smile wavered. "We understand that you are well content with your job and life at the Preventers," Sibaal continued. "And we have been able to help with the family as you have requested. However, Quatre you are approaching the age of twenty-four next year and have still not addressed the issue of wedding and providing an heir to the Winner family."
Quatre bit back a sigh. He knew this was what they wanted to talk with him about. He also knew that he couldn't keep denying their request much longer. In truth, he had found more than companionship with Trowa and this was something he dared not say to his sisters. The religion they had been raised on did not tolerate such a thing and being the heir to such a fortune... it would cause a scandal.
Of course he'd talked about this before with Trowa. Of course he knew that eventually he would have to deal with it and end up wedding one of their hand-picked brides from some family who could traced their bloodline back to Allah-knows-where. But he had little choice. If the public knew his preference...
No. They couldn't know. It would destroy everything. He knew it. Trowa knew it. He... would go through with it. Life didn't have to change too much.
He just... hated being dishonest. But sometimes... damn it all, sometimes it was necessary.
He let out the breath he'd been holding. "Alright."
Sibaal exchanged a look with his sisters before turning back to him and smiling. "Allah be praised," she murmured, rising to hug her brother. "Don't worry, we shall find you a beautiful, beautiful bride!"
It took less than a day. Not to his surprise, men had already been offering their daughters as the potential bride to the Winner heir. He knew none of them would protest. In spite of the fact that it was mainly looked at as an ancient custom, arranged marriages between wealthy families were still common.
The woman he was to marry was named Layla; it meant 'night beauty' in Arabic. Her hair was light with dark eyes and she blushed when he looked at him. They stood before a mullah, ready to sign the contract.
He almost couldn't believe he was doing this. He was honestly about to get married, and it was to someone he had never met before.
When the mullah was preparing the documents, Quatre whispered, "Are you sure you're alright with this?"
Without looking up at him, Layla nodded slowly.
Turning around and spreading the parchment on the table, the mullah read off the necessary vows that Quatre and Layla would have to agree to. First Quatre had to say yes, then she. To both his relief and disappointment, she said yes.
"Congratulations," the mullah said solemly. "You are now husband and wife."
Quatre laid awake, staring at the ceiling in the bed that he was unfamiliar with in spite of the fact that it was technically his house, his home. His new wife laid beside him, also staring at the ceiling. The silence stretched out between them for a long time. He had no idea what to say to her. It had been... awkward, at best. She was inexperienced, he completely unsure of himself.
"Do..." Layla swallowed. "Do you think we did it?"
Quatre turned his head. "Did what?"
"Made a child?"
Quatre shut his eyes and chuckled. "I have no idea. Maybe, if Allah wills."
Layla was silent for a few moments. "You'll hardly be home, won't you?"
He winced. "Likely."
"That's okay," Layla replied. "I didn't come into a love match, so I wasn't expecting one. But... I'm just worried you won't care. About the baby, if there is one."
Quatre turned over to face her, his eyes looking wide and filled with sadness. "Of course I will care," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "I just... have to work. Things to do. But... but if we did make a baby..." Damn, it was so awkward to say.
"You'll be around?"
Quatre nodded.
After a few more minutes of considering silence, Layla smiled shakily. "If we didn't, then maybe next time we'll both learn how to enjoy it."
Against his better judgment of the situation, Quatre laughed. So did she. Turning over in bed, he shut his eyes and murmured, "Goodnight, Layla."
"Goodnight, Quatre."
He listened to the covers shift, listened to her settle.
He knew her back was to him too.
Hesitating, Quatre turned the knob to the door and entered the control room, finding himself looking at the back of the heads of Heero, Trowa, and Duo. "So, wha'd I miss?" he smiled.
"Quatre!" Duo exploded out of his seat, stomping towards him and grabbing a newspaper. He tossed at Quatre roughly, almost angrily. "Why the hell didn't you tell us, man?"
Blinking, Quatre looked down at the front page and sighed. Naturally it would be in the news, considering how important he was. "It wasn't like it was a ceremony," Quatre sighed.
"Yeah, but we'd want to be there!' Duo insisted, obviously hurt. "You just got married and none of us were informed? Invited, even?"
"Duo," Heero snapped, casting a look at a very quietly solemn Trowa. "Have more respect. It was likely a marriage of convenience, not pleasure. Leave Quatre be about it."
"Yeah, but-"
Heero's glare cut through him. Duo muttered incoherently.
Hesitating and telling himself that they wouldn't ask questions, Quatre looked at both Heero and Duo before making his voice firm. "Duo... Heero... would you mind?" He cast a glance at the door.
Before Duo could protest, Heero was up out of his chair and pushing his braided friend out the door. "We need to report to Une," he said.
Duo's jaw dropped in surprise. "But what-"
"Shut up."
As Heero shoved Duo out the door, he turned his head back to Quatre and nodded once. Looking relieved, Quatre nodded back, a sign of thanks.
The door shut and he and Trowa were alone.
"I..." Quatre fumbled for the words.
Trowa smiled a little sadly. "I understand, Quatre. We've talked about it plenty of times. I knew it would happen eventually. I guess... I would've liked a little warning is all."
Quatre looked down at the ground, unable to speak for a moment. Would this ruin them?
A full minute passed before Trowa said, "Will you take to living at home?"
"No," Quatre replied. "I will still be here for the most part."
"Then... not much has to change."
Looking up at the smiling eyes of his partner, Quatre smiled back. "No," he agreed. "Not terribly much."
"Stop being mad at meeeeeeeee," Checkie wailed as he followed Sharon, shoving leaves and branches away trying to keep up.
Sharon, who had wasted a whole round of paint bullets chasing Checkie around the forest before another team had spotted them and opened fire ("It's your fault!" Checkie had snapped. "You were so loud and aggressive!"), was wishing she could drop kick Checkie off a cliff at the moment. He'd crushed the left lens of her glasses so she was only blind in one eye. They'd managed to escape without getting hit, but it meant she only had one round left and hadn't gotten the chance to regroup with the others yet. Now they were trekking through the woods and off the path so they wouldn't be so easy to find. Unfortunately, this also meant they had no idea where they were.
"Sharii, it's almost dawn," Checkie complained. "We barely slept and I'm tired!" He flopped on the ground dramatically. "I am not moving," he declared, crossing his arms with a humph.
Sharon turned around, raising her gun in the air. "If you don't get your ass up, I'ma shoot you so bad your Momma's milk leaks through your bones!"
"What?" Checkie blinked, not understanding the insult.
Sharon aimed.
"Okay, okay!" Checkie stood up, but not before picking a plant from the bed in which he had just sat in. "It doesn't have a flower. I can be its flower!"
Sharon rolled her eyes. "You are so- okay, never mind. Let's go. We have to find Gina and the others."
"Hao de!" Checkie replied, skipping after Sharon and still holding the plant. Catching up to her, he rubbed the plant against her face. "Youuuuu can be it's flower tooooo!"
"Stop it!" Sharon flung her hands in the air, knocking the plant from his hand and ignoring his pouting expression. "With my fucking luck, I'm allergic to whatever it is you just stuck on me. God!" She shook her head and kept walking, severely agitated with her current situation.
An all too familiar sound rang through the air. Sharon dodged as Checkie dropped to his knees, shrieking. Looking up, Sharon saw two others rushing towards her from higher up. She glanced at the tree, which now had a yellow paint stain. "Run!" she hissed.
Paint-ball bullets whizzed through the air as the two of them ran through the woods, desperate to escape the two others who were now descending upon them. Sharon was swearing under her breath as Checkie's arms were flailing in the air while he screamed. He really should've been born a girl, she couldn't helpd but think as they were trying to get away.
To her utmost horror, someone else popped up from a hedge. "OH MY FUCK," Sharon screamed as they wasted no time at all and unloaded five rounds at her chest. Her suit began glowing red on the lining and an electronic voice spoke from a metal disc on the wrist in the suit. *Fatality, * it declared.
"Oh well, that's just great," Sharon threw her gun on the ground as the student retreated to rejoin his comrades, giving each other high-fives. She looked up and asked the sky, "Does this mean I can go home now?"
"SHARII!" Checkie screamed from down the hill. "Come down here and protect me!"
"I'm dead, you idiot!" Sharon snapped, pointing at herself, which was still glowing red. "Protect yourself!" Picking up her discarded gun, she threw it down the hill at Checkie, who screamed and waved his hands effeminately as the gun landed in front of him.
"It's jammed!" he wailed when he picked it up.
Shaking her head and ignoring his wailing, Sharon went up to the students who had succeeded in "killing" her and headed back with them, knowing that at least for her the game was over and at least now she didn't have to deal with Checkie any-
*Fatality, * an electronic voice behind her spoke.
A distorted look of shock on her face, Sharon whipped around to stare at Checkie, who had somehow, in trying to fix the gun effectively shot himself in the chest. Her palm smacked against her face so hard she thought for a moment she broke her one good lens.
Skipping up the hill and completely discarding the gun, Checkie hooked his arm with Sharon. "Looks like we're together again, sweetie!" he cooed.
"...if you killed yourself on purpose, I swear to god," Sharon muttered under her breath.
Arm in arm with Checkie and listening to him babble about how violence just isn't good for his complexion, Sharon followed the other students up the hill, sincerely hoping that on the way back to the checkpoint that there would indeed be a cliff nearby where she could potentially push a certain gabbing individual off it.