AN: Well, my dearly beloved readers. It is a new year, and what did I do to start it off? I slacked off and didn't give you guys a weekly update already! (shame on Isis) Sorry! Holidays are far too hectic and stressful to write during. Anyhoo, I come to you in a special way to say Happy Anniversary! Yes, yes, it was exactly one year ago that I decided to begin writing again after having left my keyboard for other facts of life for a number of years. And so, the little four page "Manifestations" one-shot is still alive in its spin-offs. :D I hope you all continue to enjoy the ride as much as I am! Love to all, Isis.
"Revelations"
By Isis
Chapter 28
The pencil scribbled out fuzzy dots of color and lines as it moved far too rapidly over the paper. Quatre was trying in vain to keep up with the hum flowing through his head as he worked in the worst musical shorthand known to man. Halfway down the sheet he wasn't even paying attention to the measure lines anymore as he bunched it all together in a jumble.
It was just a melody, something that had been toying around in his head for a couple weeks now. For some reason it wouldn't be forgotten though and he had decided this morning that if it didn't intend to leave, he could at least get a horrible, barebones of it on paper. His violin was still in his left hand and braced against his shoulder as he raced at scribbling down the poor excuses for notes on the blank staff paper.
Finally getting all he could of it in a choppy sequence of disjointed thoughts, he dropped the pencil again and looked over the paper, satisfied that he had a start of a personal composition. It was something that he hadn't tried in many years. Somewhere around his music room he had some, likewise scribbled, sheets where he'd attempted a few songs at maybe eleven or twelve.
They'd never amounted to much. Typically anything he came up with ended up sounding far too similar to something he'd already learned. So far, this wasn't shaping up like anything he could place. Of course, he had very little to go on.
Picking up his bow again he picked out the sketchy patterns, noting a few corrections here and there from the way it sounded in his head.
Quatre honestly felt rather envious of true composers that could come up with a piece from beginning to end as a solid stream of consciousness. Well, he'd never expected to hold that form of talent.
He noticed the light click-clack sounds coming slowly down the hallway towards him as he paused to mark a section that seemed completely out of sequence. Quickly placing his handwritten copy behind the other sheet music and books on his stand, he lowered his violin and made a production of flipping through the pages as Dorothy sauntered lazily around the corner and peeked into the room.
"Morning, Master Winner," she greeted.
"Good Morning, Miss Dorothy," he returned with a smile. "Come in."
Pacing idly in she swept a gaze over the room, tucking her hands behind her back. Attired in a filmy brown-patterned skirt that layered a few inches below her knees and a plain cream button-down sweater, he had to admit that she seemed rather unfazed by the late night last evening. He'd heard her slip out of the house this morning on her way to church but she hadn't offered him the choice of going with her.
Dorothy was rather used to one of the area churches, considering how often she visited here, and he tried not to pry. She seemed comfortable on her own so he was simply happy to allow her to slip away for an hour or so. She would always return and tug him along after her to go out for breakfast as her thank you for allowing her to stay.
It'd become a nice little routine that they had fallen into. Of course, she usually found him buried under something up in his office, but for some reason he had forsaken even thinking about work. He'd been up earlier than normal this morning anyway and he'd had the impulse to indulge himself.
"Any requests, Milady?" he jokingly asked as she apparently took a comfy seat on the piano bench in front of the window alcove his music stand was set up in.
"Artist's choice, maestro," she flourished with a regal wave for him to proceed.
But her smile was enough for him to back down the nervous twitch that hit him. He was never one to shy away from an audience and he certainly didn't mind playing for someone with Dorothy's ear, but he felt a little embarrassed alone in front of her. Instead he pushed it down and turned back to the books in front of him. "Well, let's see."
Opening the one on top he found the book opened to a well-read set of pages automatically. Vivaldi was a guilty love affair of his, having an extensive collection of violin concertos in a number of fantastic arrangements. But he was certain that Dorothy knew those by heart and he didn't want just anything.
Something in him wanted to impress her.
Closing the first book again he took it off the stand and set it aside on the boxed window seat beside him. Opening the second he inwardly smiled as he found the page he wanted. Clipping the book open, he raised the violin and started in without hesitation. He didn't have these works nearly as memorized as some of the old classics, but he'd spent a good deal of time working through them.
The notes were shorter, picking the pace a little faster than most composers but it was peppered with drawn out intervals, giving a variety. The music itself came off clean and although varied, it carried uniformity throughout. The composer was a true favorite to him, the sound unique but something he was very familiar with.
He doubted greatly that Dorothy would have ever heard of her or of the works themselves. After all, this was a colony musician, still alive and still directing on tour he believed.
Why it sometimes nagged at him as important that Dorothy learn to appreciate, or better yet enjoy, the atmosphere of the Colonies, he wasn't sure. Somehow, he honestly just wished that she could find a place for herself here.
He was more than likely just being greedy and wishing they could bridge that gap in their understandings of home.
Quatre still had to concentrate on the notes in front of him as he played, which he didn't mind. It did give him an excuse not to notice Dorothy's reaction during the song. But as the final, sweeping decrescendo hummed out, he lowered his instrument and the bow and cautiously turned from the stand to look over at her.
He was rewarded with a contented smile, and… an open look of admiration. He blinked, but that was still the best description for what he saw in her eyes. "Bravo," she mildly cheered.
And he gave her a tight little displaced smile, feeling his heart puddle at the compliment. "Thank you," he tried anyway. Turning he picked up the cloth from the case on the window seat and carefully wiped down the instrument, specifically trying to avoid her noticing the blush he figured he was wearing.
Dorothy stood from her seat and paced up to take a look at the music book beside him on the stand, humming very lightly along the melody he'd just played. With a smile he let her look over the book, happy that she'd liked it and was obviously interested. He heard her pause with a giggle as he finally replaced the violin back in the case and tucked the cloth lovingly around it before closing the lid. "Careful, Quatre. A lesser woman could think you have a crush on that thing."
He rolled his eyes with a puffed out sigh. "If you were this old you'd want me to be nice to you too," he teased rounding back to slip past her towards the door.
"If I were that old I'd be dust," she corrected, snagging his arm before he could move away from her and pulling him back in front of the stand. "Why have I never heard of this person?"
Quatre gave her a smile as she studied a couple of the other concertos around it. "Probably because she is still very new. But you can't tell much from just that." Gently dislodging her fingers from his arm, she mindlessly let him go and he sidestepped around to the far corner.
A set of shelves sat littered with a collection of music disks from three generations back, but he found the one he was looking for easily. He turned back with it to find Dorothy holding the book up to study the cover before moving it and casually looking through the loose sheets he had tucked behind the thing. Including…
"Uh," he started as her hand moved to pick through the sheets, "you should really give this a try. This person is a very good director as well as a composer," he purposefully interrupted her innocent looking, walking back quickly to hand her the disk instead.
Dorothy took it with a thoughtful expression as she read through the cover. And Quatre, just helpfully, took the book from her other hand and placed it securely back over the sheets left on the stand, sliding the whole thing farther into the alcove away from her and stepping in between them to look over her shoulder at the offered disk.
"That will give you something to listen to on the way home," he explained helpfully. "I think you might like it."
Dorothy hadn't looked up from her reading yet but nodded absently, "You seem to."
"I do," he nodded.
"So this was actually a live tour then?" she asked, flipping the case over again and reading through the selections.
"Yes, I think they still do, but I've never caught a performance." She gave a little hum at that, and he took the opportunity put a very light hand at the small of her back and prod her along with him towards the door. "So, where are you taking me this morning?" he chuckled.
Dorothy looked over at him in surprise as she let him lead her along. "Master Winner, voluntarily offering to pass the check? Are you feeling ill?" she accused.
Quatre laughed it off and shook his head, letting her lead out of the room. "Just hungry. I'll fight you for the bill later," he lied. She only brushed it off and turned out of the room with him on her heels as he threw a relieved glance back at his music stand.
Their waitress obviously didn't have much to do yet this morning as the sprinkled crowd around the little café lounged over papers or idly conversation. Quatre sat next to the front windows, usually where the two of them got seated. The view showed the slow crawl of the side street neighborhood they were in.
He couldn't remember how they had ever discovered this little place but the two frequented it now and then when Dorothy was staying. It wasn't like he typically went a lot of places alone, and dragging even half of the guys with him to a cozy little place like this probably wouldn't work all that well.
And so their waitress, the same one they usually had, was passing the time in a bubbly chitchat with him as Dorothy excused herself to the restroom. The young lady had taken their orders already and was back to fill their barely touched water glasses. She was a fun, cheery type of person and he couldn't help but like her odd ways of starting conversations.
She chuckled easily at one of her own jokes before apparently remembering her rounds again. "Would your sister like some more coffee, do you think?" she asked, pointedly looking over at Dorothy's place.
"Sister?" he started, and then honestly tried to politely bite down his laugh at her. "I'm sure she would," he answered anyway.
The girl paused, comically biting her lip. "Oops, I suppose that means she's not your sister?" she asked with a little embarrassed smile.
"I have a number of sisters, but she's not one of them," he tried to keep a straight face. "No relation, just a friend."
"Oh, sorry," she giggled at herself. "Well, I'll bring your friend some more creamer to," she smiled and turned away, checking in on another table before she actually passed Dorothy on her way back to the kitchen.
Quatre tried to fight the chuckles again. He wasn't sure how she'd thought they were related. Hair color he supposed, but that was the absolute extent of their physical similarities. Just what he needed though, another sister.
Dorothy took her seat in the booth again with a humorously raised eyebrow. "You know, I can always stall longer if you want to get her number."
And he faltered completely to a stop before he even got to tell her the story. "Excuse me?" he mumbled, confused.
She sipped at her cup with a giggle before lowering it again. "This is probably your, what, third, forth time in here? I'd say you know her well enough to be 'sociable.'"
Quatre slumped back a little in his seat. "Is there anything you don't see as a conspiracy or potential love interest?" he asked, completely taken aback at her one-track mind.
"They're all the same in my book," she shrugged. "But come now; tell me she wasn't working the 'is that your girlfriend' angle?"
"Of course not," he answered in credulously. "Just a second ago she thought you were my sister."
The hand over her mouth really didn't help the evil little cackle that she gave him. "Really?" she asked composing herself.
"Yes, really," he stated matter-of-factly, very tired of her insinuations for some reason today.
"And what did you say?" she asked, folding both her arms on the table in front of her and leaning in.
Giving her an odd look he shrugged, "I corrected her."
She nodded, "That I'm not your sister."
"Yes."
"And that I am what?" she blinked expectantly at him.
Feeling that she was in the middle of her first 'blond' moment he stared at her. "That you're a friend."
"Ah, I see." She moved to lounge back against the booth's back cushion and gave him a pointed look. "So you just informed her that we're not dating."
He failed to see what that had to do with anything for a second until her words immediately came back. Sighed at the accusation he turned away to look out the window and not dignifying the idea with a statement.
There was another little giggle from her as she picked her cup back up and took a sip. "Romance is a war, just as much as everything else. Some are the type to march out and attack first, and some are guerrilla soldiers who scout their targets first."
"If romance is a war to you, you're going to have trouble finding a date," he cautioned, still not turning back to her.
"Oh, but I just have a thing for knights in shining armor," she purred, leaning in again. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell she was batted her lashes at him.
And he couldn't stop the chuckle at her effort. Turning back he rolled his eyes at her and took a drink from his glass, hoping the conversation ended there.
"Don't worry, dearest," she shook her head. "I'm sure you'll start liking girls someday," she teased.
And he had to put his napkin over his mouth as he nearly choked on his water. Recovering, he turned back to her with a rather bitter look before he was met with her mild concern.
"Are you all right?" their waitress interrupted coming up to the table with a coffee pot and a bowl of cream packets.
"Fine," he brushed it off for her. "I just found something amusing," he tossed a quick look at Dorothy and back again, "at the wrong time."
"Hate it when that happens," she nodded sympathetically before turning to Dorothy. After filling the cup again she turned away with a smile and left them again.
"I didn't mean to drown you," she only half seriously apologized.
He waved it off and took another sip of his water to get the feeling out of his throat. She didn't mean it, really didn't even think anything of it probably. He was just so tired of having his personal life, or lack thereof, displayed for criticism.
"Quatre?" she got his attention back. "Are you all right?" she asked, her eyes probing a little as he met them.
Wonderful. Now she wouldn't quit asking what the matter was until he gave in again. This was not what he wanted to get into. Especially with her. He just didn't want to deal with it. As far as he was concerned, it was over. "Aside from being drowned?" he asked instead, giving her a weak smile for her concern.
She must have bought it because she shook her head and left it at that.
He searched quickly for something else to talk about and was rewarded with a basically blank slate. "So, when is your flight?" he asked, and then relented. "Not that I'm trying to get rid of you."
She gave him a momentary pout over her cup before bulking with a gasp. "Oh, I forgot," she whispered to herself and quickly dug into her purse beside her. "I haven't set it." Pulling her phone free, she scooted out of the booth again with both items. "This should just take a second," she apologized. But before passing him for the front foyer, she leaned down and secretly whispered. "Drink your water so she has an excuse to come back. And smile," she winked.
She purposefully spirited away before he could catch her by her hair and gag her with it for the comment.
Reaching the front foyer, she paused in the airlock of the building, judging that there was no way he could overhear her. Dorothy pulled her return ticket from her purse and quickly dialed the ticketing number. Finally getting to a rescheduling agent, she made the change from her flight this afternoon to one headed out tomorrow evening.
She didn't like lying to him, but she'd been under the suspicion that there was something going on with him for a week now. He wasn't acting like himself and she intended to figure out what was going on.
Finishing with the switch, she casually waited a minute longer until the waitress left their table again before closing her phone and returning. Slipping back into the booth, she gave him a disheartened smile. "Well, it seems that I'm not going home until tomorrow night, now," she stated, hoping he wouldn't see through this. "The flight to New Port from here is never full, I didn't even think about being sure to check first." Technically it wasn't a lie.
"Oh, Dorothy, I'm sorry. If you need to be back my shuttle is always an option," he offered.
She waved it off, "No, there's nothing going on but choosing new drapes for the receiving room anyway." Looking back up, she sighed a little. "You don't have to house me, I can always find somewhere else, at least think," she purposefully added with a bitter note.
"Absolutely not," he smiled. "It's not like that house ever fills up."
"Thank you," she smiled.
She had basically one day to figure out what was eating at him.
As the lights dimmed out to early evening Quatre was still wondering where the day had gone. Dorothy had pretty much led him by the hand all day, scurrying this way and that, from shopping malls to parks to anything else that they wandered past. And he didn't mind.
He'd offered to show her a couple of the more 'touristy' spots on the colony and she had actually taken him up on it. So they had spent part of the afternoon wondering through Centennial Park and the Natural Space Mining Museum. Which, considering Winner Inc. was stated as having donated the entire startup base for the thing, he wondered why he'd never been in before.
Unfortunately he found the exhibits much more interesting than Dorothy did. After wondering around the 'dusty rocks,' as she put it, he had completely lost her on the third floor. Finally catching up, he found her scrutinizing the uncut gemstone and crystal mineral deposits found in various asteroids like a professional jeweler.
He'd laughed at her but she'd waved it off, reminding him that her favorite color was still sparkly.
Regardless, he did manage to pick out the newest display in the room with relative ease. A very small sample of a pretty color-changing stone that they had discovered about a year ago. She had taken particular interest in it when she noticed that the closest related stone originally found on Earth was alexandrite, something he'd never heard of but she apparently knew quite well. Aside from the far paler coloring of these stones, they were chemically about the same.
Quatre had to wonder if he didn't have a couple of these samples still laying around his office in a file somewhere, despite the expense of the significantly limited precious gem whenever it finally made its way into the jewelry market.
Prodding her out of the gem exhibit they left the nearly deserted museum at closing time, heading for anywhere around the business district that they could catch an early dinner at. But it was twilight before they started back to figure out where they had left the car, and after window-shopping through the collection of trinket and junk stores lining the streets, the lights had gone out on them.
Towards the heart of the main cityscape though it was still moving with people and traffic. Dorothy walked along beside him now, looking out as they passed down a raised pedestrian crossing. But she surprised him when she slowed to a stop against the railing, letting the rest of the foot traffic move around them.
He turned to watch her curiously as she stared out at the three and four hundred story skyline around them. "It's lovely, isn't it?" she commented without looking away.
Quatre had had his heart melted by the woman in front of him before. He had turned into a puddle at her feet more times than he could count. But now her innocent little unthinking comment stole the heart out of his chest, taking his breath with it.
Why, he didn't have enough sense left to determine. He could only stand there, watching her in the muted light of the city around them as she happily took in the view through the railings of the footbridge. "…Yes it is," he unthinkingly agreed, never noticing what it was that had actually attracted her interest.
Still not turning back to him she stepped in the couple feet between them. "What's that little building?" she asked.
It took him a couple attempts to get his head to turn to look in the direction she was watching. "Which one?"
Stepping in against his side she raised her hand, still complete with shopping sack, and pointed towards their left. "The short one that's all lit up," she specified.
It took a second for him to clear his vision and follow her finger towards a shorter building in the center of the area at the opposite end of the massive park. "That's the Linda Noel Building," he returned, chasing his brain back to the front of his head. "It's the colony capital."
"And who's Linda Noel?" she turned to him.
Meeting her pale blue eyes in the twinkling glow of the street and building lights, he didn't have a clue who Linda Noel was anymore. "Uh…" Blinking he turned away again to the view and mentally smacked himself. "She was our first Governor. The building and the park were both made for the colony centennial."
"Oh," she commented. "And the lights are for…?"
He paused, not getting right away what she was talking about before it dawned on him. From here, it did look like the whole building was lit up with a huge array of little lights all over it. Anyone who had seen the building in the daylight knew better though. He was about to explain when the idea caught up with him and he turned back to look at her instead. "How adventurous are you feeling this evening?"
Dorothy gave him a funny look and then turned to look back at the building and then all the way around them again before coming back to his face. "Why?" she cautiously asked.
Nodding towards the building he gave her a smile. "If you want to know about the lights you're going to have to see it."
She paused a second but then bravely shrugged and took his arm. "Lead the way."
Still forsaking the search for his car the two had hopped one of the ornate little trolleys around the expansive park grounds and ended up in front of the seventy story capital building. And Dorothy figured out what he'd meant by saying she'd have to see it to understand it. The whole building was glass, much like everything else around here, but instead of the typical shaded tinting, this was mirror finished all the way up.
The building was dwarfed by the skyscrapers surrounding it on all sides, but it literally glowed with the lights that reflected off of it from the surrounding structures. But to her surprise, standing across the street gawking up at the thing obviously wasn't Quatre's intention. Instead he pulled her across the street and up to a corner where a set of, literally, outside elevators sat waiting for passengers still at this time of evening.
She gave him an insane look as he held the doors for her and waved her in. "Where are you going?"
"Up," was all he answered with a smile.
Hopelessly giving up she decided she didn't have anything to lose, so she stepped in. The elevator had exactly two choices for buttons, roof or ground. "Roof?" she asked as he pressed it. Looking up she found the whole thing extremely odd that there was a glass roof on the contraption.
He only chuckled and leaned against the back wall of the cramped little thing as it shot upwards.
"Leave something like this to colony engineering only," she mumbled.
"We're creative," he softly agreed.
She could only brush it off before they slowed to a stop and the doors clicked open. Wind swirled in around them and she had to pick her hair out of her face with one hand as she managed to hold her skirt down with the other. Quatre didn't seem phased by the unexpected change and prodded her out of the door and onto the roof.
Once she got the hair unstuck from her lip gloss the first thing she noticed was that it was about ten degrees colder up here than it was on the ground. The wind was also whistling by them in a moderate, constant breeze. She reasoned that the closer to the center of the colony they got, the more they got a taste of the wind belt that whipped through the middle of the space.
But aside from that she walked out after Quatre who was patiently waiting on her. Once she caught up he headed them off towards the side and the high ledge that ran around the circumference of the large square area. Looking up she saw the whole roofline was done in an open worked, gilded twist of girders that rose to a peek probably another four stories over them.
Another toss of the wind and she was again pulling the hair out of her face. Coming up beside Quatre at the railing she tucked her skirt and her purse and sack between her knees and used both hands to pull the whole mass of it back and then twisted it around to keep it together in her hand.
Oh she could already feel the tangles starting.
Quatre mildly chuckled at her and she only gave him a weary look for the annoyance. Too late to do anything about it now. She finished and tucked the length of it under her arm at her side to keep it from blowing all over the place and finally took a good look around her. Over the edge of the metal railing lay a view of the city buildings that exceeded anything of the like she had ever seen before.
The rest of the structures around them towered overhead, climbing high towards the center of the colony, but between them the other buildings of the central populous glittered back at them. She took it in greedily, feeling more than a little surrounded. Doing a slow circle she saw the same types of views come to her from across the neatly set up rooftop, but the front of the building called to her and she slipped away from the elevators to the other railing.
Bouncing up on her toes she leaned into the high metal grillwork and studied the view over the edge, ignoring the cool breeze that was flapping her skirt around her knees. Before her, the whole Centennial Park was laid out like a miniature. The green of the grass was dotted with buildings, including the museum and the little shops they had wandered through earlier. The streets around them were busy with traffic, and the cute little trolleys were still making their rounds through the grounds and around the area.
It was amazing. Honestly breathtaking.
And it was making her queasy.
Lowering from her toes again she stood up straight and examined the view again instead to take her mind off the height. The park cleared out a large flat area between growths of the buildings, giving her a view of the downtown area that tapered down into the distance, even as the curve of the colony made it look like it was coming up again. Raising her chin she followed the arc until it appeared to run into the ceiling structures that she could barely pick out through the lights that assaulted her night vision here.
Well, you don't see that on Earth, she surmised.
Smiling at the thought she finally turned back to do a double take when she found that Quatre wasn't beside her. Turning around she found him still causally rooted to his spot next to the elevator, apparently watching her more than the scenery. Dorothy only caught half of his expression before the wind took her hair again and tossed it back in her face.
Growling in frustration she turned back into the wind and once again pulled it back from her face and twisted it together to stay down. Of all the times for the stupid stuff to be in the way…
Dorothy froze when she felt a pair of arms lightly circle around waist and Quatre's laugh in her ear. "Come here," he whispered, moving only enough to steer her with him down the railing.
She followed along, wondering at the arm he kept around her waist. Maybe he figured she was cold? It certainly was quite a bit cooler up here. She snuck a sideways look at him but in the yellow glow of the omnipresent lighting she couldn't tell much.
She shrugged off the odd feeling she'd been caught in as he led her towards a little triangle of glass with a bench seat in it, one of several littered around the roofline. Dorothy hadn't noticed the other little clumps of people around the area. Couples actually, and…
Oh great. She'd just found the colony's best make out point.
She threw a suspicious look at the man beside her, but then nearly died laughing at herself over the thought. Yeah, right. Quatre Raberba Winner, smooth lady's man that he was and all, out on a dastardly plot to ravage her womanly innocence.
She tried but she still burst out laughing as they reached the bench inside the two-sided wind shelter. It was really a wonderfully designed item, except that much like the elevator it created a twirl to the wind current that was just about perfect for trying to blow her skirt up. Her laugh cut off as she grabbed the front of it to keep it from rising again.
Stepping past the threshold the wind cut down to only a little whistle, and they both stood tangled in her hair that she'd dropped to focus on her skirt. "What's so funny?" he asked, stepping back to cautiously bat the stuff away.
"Oh, it just struck me odd," she worthlessly explained. Tossing her purse and sack down on the triangular bench, she gathered her hair one more time and very sloppily tried to get it in three sections without tangling it any farther. "You're going to have to warn me from now on when I should put my hair back," she teased.
"Sorry. I didn't think about it," he chuckled at her still. She noticed him take a seat on the bench, pulling one knee up and leaning his back against the glass wall.
Dorothy shrugged it off as she continued to get her hair into an uneven, knotted braid. "This really is phenomenal."
Quatre didn't answer as she gazed out through the windbreak to the sparkle of the city around them. And she apparently didn't notice that he wasn't interested in the spectacular view. He couldn't have cared less. The brightest light in the whole colony was standing in front of him.
Well that was a sappy thought.
And for whatever reason, it didn't matter either. He didn't know what had come over him all of a sudden but he refused to analyze it right now. He was just content to be here, be anywhere, with her.
She startled him out of his revelry and the study of her profile as she finished with her hair and moved to sit down on the bench, rummaging through her purse for a minute or two, before coming up with a pony tail holder and wrapping it around the braid. "Much better," she mumbled to herself, tossing it behind her.
He could only smile as she pushed her purse back again and then twisted around to look out the glass walls again. Bringing her legs up she tucked them between the two, leaning on her hand. Quatre loved that little casualness in her when she was with him. In a public situation she would be properly poised, civil and calculated. Times like this she was just herself. Open, at least as much as she ever was, and softer.
They sat in silence for a while, the whistle of the wind breaking the quiet from time to time as she studied the skyline… and he studied her.
It was still different to see her hair back like this. He'd become used to it from any number of things, especially while the group was working on her house. But it just didn't seem the same.
His musings were interrupted yet again as she turned from the view to catch him watching her. "What?" she blinked.
Quatre only shook his head and turned his eyes down. "Nothing, just lost in thought."
Dorothy didn't quite seem to buy that. Instead she scooted a little closed and then moved to sit on her knees, smoothing her skirt down as she faced him. "May I make a confession?" she asked.
He blinked, looking at her over his knee and wondering what had brought this on. "Of course," he answered when it actually seemed like she wanted permission.
"You're not going to appreciate this, and honestly I won't be surprised if you're angry with me for it," she started, looking at her hands in her lap instead of him.
If anything could snap you out of a foggy little revelry, it was a beginning like that.
"I lied to you this morning," she stated, almost matter-of-factly. Taking a deep breath she raised her eyes to his rather worried look. "I had a flight back home already. I specifically rescheduled for tomorrow."
Quatre only stared back at her. It wasn't the worst thing she could have said by a long ways, but he didn't understand. "Why?" Dorothy tilted her head and scrutinized him for a moment, looking for what he didn't have a clue.
"You haven't been yourself lately. I thought maybe you'd tell me what was bothering you if I was around a little longer."
Huh? Wasn't himself? What was bothering him?
It clicked a little late. He hadn't even thought about this week all evening. He'd pushed it out of his head as unimportant anymore. But thinking back, he supposed he could understand that his little reaction this morning could have worried her…
She'd stayed to make sure he was all right? How sweet.
Oh, no. He knew better than to have those thoughts about Dorothy. Shaking that off he tried to focus again. "Uh… I don't know where to start with that," he answered honestly. He couldn't possibly be mad at her for lying to him. Well, he supposed he could be, but she hadn't been purposefully malicious with it and it was only because she cared.
Looking back at her he knew he didn't care that she wasn't upfront with him about it. He'd have missed this if she had left this afternoon and this wasn't something that he would have willingly given up.
"It's alright," he finally answered. "I couldn't possibly mind."
He got a little smile out of her for that and she nodded. But it left again just as quickly. "But something is really bothering you, isn't it?"
It wasn't much of a question by her tone, and he had to relent that he was so transparent to her again. "It's fine. I'm not sure I really want to get into it," he tried instead. No, he really just wanted to forget the whole thing. It didn't matter anymore.
But it obviously mattered to her. The worry in her eyes made him pause. It wasn't typically part of her character to show concern like that. Actually, the whole situation was rather heartwarming, in an odd sort of way. "You're sure?" she prodded.
No, he wasn't sure. He had no idea what kind of damage he'd caused last night. If it was anything like the last social engagement they'd attended the rumors would be around for a month. And knowing the amount of gossip through his building… oh, he didn't want to think about that.
He'd originally wanted to confront those rumors. Dorothy deserved to be seen as more than just an exceptionally attractive woman who wondered through the building once in a while. She had a chance to show her intellect and her charm.
And yes, if he was very honest he'd admit that he wanted to prove the rumors from early this week wrong too. He wanted to prove that a woman didn't have to be after his money, or his position, or his name to be around him. Quatre intended to deliberately shove that fact down their throats if he had to. He also wanted the satisfaction of showing them that he was perfectly capable of escorting a female.
That wasn't the truth either. He was actually just being bitter and revengeful and knew without any reservation that taking Dorothy would irritate the crud out of them. He was just hoping one of them would make some derogatory comment to his face. He had three pink slips already mentally filled in for them anyway.
But that was all beside the point. The fact remained that he'd ended up feeling rather crass for asking Dorothy into the middle of this. If he was trying to remind people that she was not an object and was a truly wonderful person… maybe he should have started with himself.
Well, if they were having confessions maybe he should admit his own sins. "I…" he sucked down a breath and turned away from her. "I really wasn't honest with you either. I would have asked you to go with me last night anyway, but I really did have that ulterior motive you accused me of."
She only nodded out of the corner of his vision. "You wanted an ally in hostile territory," she half-chuckled.
It was the same idea she'd had last night and it took him a moment to decide to refute it with the truth. "No. I wanted the most intelligent, attractive and flirtatious woman I knew." He felt like such a jerk.
She didn't cover her shock well as she openly stared at him. "For what?"
Quatre didn't meet her eyes again, hopelessly embarrassed with what he was only now actually realizing about his own intentions. "Director Sheel was the least of my concern last night." Sighing he tipped his head back to lay against the cool wall and looked up at the towering buildings. "I seem to have a talent for overhearing uncharitable comments."
"Uh oh," she whispered.
And he chuckled in spite of himself. Dearest Dorothy. "It didn't settle well with me."
"And so you took me to prove what?" The confusion in her voice was apparent.
Prove what…? That was a good question. To prove he wasn't gay? Yeah, he'd never live that down. To prove that a woman could honestly have some type of interest in him for something other than money? That was partially true. To prove that he wasn't just incapable of accomplishing anything? From personal, to business, to anything else?
He was so tired of being plagued by this stereotype. He was tired of being viewed as nothing but a teenager incapable of understanding his actions. He hated having his very nature be assumed as a weakness. He was sick of having to prove that he wasn't incompetent in everything he tried to accomplish.
"To prove that I can prove," he whispered without thinking.
He didn't actually realize that he'd said that out loud until Dorothy moved to crawl over the bench to his side as much as she could between him and the point of the walls. "Excuse me?"
Quatre turned to look at her, just wanting to find her eyes, to know that she wasn't here for any other reason than that she did honestly care about him. "I'm sorry," he shook his head before laying it back against the wall again, watching her. "I shouldn't have used you like that," he whispered.
Dorothy shook her head in absolute confusion. "Darling, you're not making a bit of sense." Rubbing at her temple a second she shook it off again. "So I'm the most intelligent, attractive and whatever person you know," she paused. "Thank you, by the way. But you really need to get out more," she added as an afterthought. "But what does that prove? That you can get a date?" she chuckled.
And there was nothing to do but laugh at her. Quatre turned to hang his head, wondering how he survived before her. "Yes," he finally just agreed. "Yes. I wanted to be able to claim that I escorted the office's vote for best legs," he flourished.
"Quatre!" she admonished.
And again he only laughed, holding up a hand to informally apologize for the comment.
Dorothy sighed and seemingly gave up. "Just tell me again that you're fine and I'll write it off."
"I'm fine," he sobered. "But I am sorry that I drug you into it."
Settling next to him she stretched her legs out over the bench and moved to lean into his side, her head coming to rest on his shoulder and her hand landing on his arm that was still propped up on his raised knee. "Don't be. You obviously decided that you wanted me there, and that's all I need to know. As long as you're all right with it, the reasons hold no meaning to me."
His heart once again melted out of his chest and he turned to lay his cheek against the top of her head. "That seems rather… apathetic of you."
Dorothy hummed to herself. "Sometimes it's nice to just feel that someone needs you. No matter the reason," she very quietly confessed.
All at once he knew that those few words were truly the sum of her life.
Moving his arm he caught her hand that had been on it, entwining his fingers with hers over the back of it. Bowing his head he brought it over to press a lingering kiss on her wrist, getting her to cringe with a giggle. Relaxing his hold, he dropped their hands to lay against his chest, pressing his cheek back against her head.
And somewhere in the dark with his hand covering hers covering his heart, he understood. He'd lost his ability to deny it any longer…
He'd fallen in love with her.
And the only thing he could do was keep breathing through the pain.
"It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun." – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
