Fly on Broken Wings Chapter 36: Found, a gundam wing/ac fanfic

LSC / 11-28-11
(Fly on Broken Wings - Chapter Thirty-Six: Found)
rated: R - language, content, violence
shounen-ai/yaoi

CHAPTER 36

Found

Elbow-deep in sudsy water, Trowa moved the bristled scrubber over the plate in methodical circles. He liked washing dishes. The work was easy, and the kitchen a lively place. He could listen to the coming and going of the wait staff and the easy, playful banter of the cooks. Trowa set the cleaned plate on the plastic loading rack with the rest. Once the rack was full, he pushed it into the sanitizer and lowered down the hatches. Forty-five seconds later, he lifted the lever to raise the hatches and carefully pulled out the tray from the other side. Steam poured out from the sanitizer. He pushed the dish tray further down near where the others, gleaming clean and still a little wet, waited.

They were in the post-lunch lull, which meant everyone was standing around talking except him. Stacks of dirty dishes piled up next to the sink and the bottom of the deep, sudsy water were the caked-on gooey messes he saved for last. As Trowa worked, he tried to avoid looking at the twin scars on the inside of each forearm. This was the downside to washing dishes. He had rolled his sleeves up for the first week, but the summer heat combined with the hot water had him digging t-shirts from the back of his closet. No one came over to talk to him besides Catherine, and her eyes never strayed. His work was simple. Dirty dishes were stacked next to the sink, and someone always took the clean ones away when he was done.

The first day, a few of the staff had tried talking to him, mostly the older ladies who used words like "hon" and "sugar" too much. Catherine must have explained, because they gave up rather quickly. Everyone gave up eventually, except his sister. She always persisted. Now she came sweeping into the kitchen, fanning herself with her order pad and complaining about the heat. Coming over to check on him, she brightly asked, "Are you hot, Trowa? I can imagine you'd be with all this steam everywhere!"

Trowa used the spray hose to rinse down a water glass. These didn't really need scrubbing. Trowa soon had a whole tray full of glasses ready to go. Catherine jumped in to help, pushing the tray into the sanitizer when he pulled the lever and the hatch door sprung open. She hung around and watched him fight grease off a casserole dish "Since it's slow, they're cutting my shift short. When you reach a stopping point we can leave." His sister left, still fanning herself. She grabbed her bag and went to the bathroom to change out of her work uniform.

Globs of stuck-on grease and what he suspected was crusted cheese floated out into the soapy water and bounced off the back of his hands. Trowa brought the dish out and applied the scrubber to a difficult patch. Catherine emerged from the bathroom in a pair of black shorts with a bright green top. She leaned against the walk-in freezer and chatted with a friend of hers, a round-faced young woman with short, pink-tipped blonde hair. Trowa thought her name might be Sara, but her lack of nametag prevented him from double-checking. He dunked the casserole dish down into the water and gave it one final scrubbing before setting it into a new tray. Reaching into the water, he fished around for the metal chain to pull out the stopper. The water slowly chugged down the drain.

After wiping his hands dry on his long, white apron, Trowa untied it from around his waist and hung it back on the hook near the back door. When he turned around, Catherine was saying goodbye to her friend and heading his way. He waited by the door for her. His sister stuffed her purse into her large shoulder bag and gave him a big smile. "Ready?"

They got in the car and she started driving, but in the wrong direction. Trowa stared at the window as the street numbers became smaller, and then glanced nervously over at his sister. A lot of places were in this direction, but Trowa instinctively thought of the hospital. It was only a forty-minute drive from Catherine's work to the outskirts of the city, and they were going in the right direction.

"I need to do some errands," she explained. "We're going to the bank. I have your paycheck with me, too. Maybe we can go to the mall. Would you like that? You could buy…" her cheerful tone dropped slightly as she hesitated. She gamely recovered, "some puzzle books or movies or something. Or maybe clothes. I think you've gotten taller. Would you like that?"

They stopped at a red light and Trowa watched a pigeon run out into the street to get a tempting crumb. A taxi ran over the little bird, smashing one wing and stunning it. The pigeon tried to fly off, but a city bus rolled over it just as Catherine's car turned the corner and he lost sight of the street. They drove on in silence. His sister reached down and turned on the radio, flooding the car with the harmless sound of classic rock favorites.

"Do you like this music, Trowa?" she asked, turning the volume down so they could talk over it. Or, rather, so she could. He started counting the fire hydrants they passed. "You could get a little radio to listen to at work, while you do the dishes. Or a book to read at home, maybe. Do you still like to read, Trowa?"

She pulled into one of the parking spaces fifteen hydrants later and turned the car off. Trowa got out and immediately spotted a penny underneath the adjoining car. He picked it up. The metal was a lustrous copper, the minting from that year. He slipped it into his back pocket. Catherine waited patiently and then watched him carefully as they went inside the bank. "Here's your paycheck," she announced, handing him a rectangular piece of paper.

Catherine took out her own check and signed the back. His paycheck was actually a personal check, not a payroll one like his sister's. Georgia A. Marrenor was probably Catherine's boss, and the check was made out for an even hundred dollars. "Now if you want," his sister was saying, "you can deposit that into my bank account and save it. I won't touch it, I promise. But I know you probably can't wait to spend it, right?" She beamed at him.

Trowa dutifully signed his name across the endorsement line on the back of the check, which was printed with cartoon characters on the front design. Georgia A. Marrenor also had terrible handwriting. "Favor for Cathy" was scrawled on the memo line. He could only imagine how the conversation had gone; put Trowa to work, pay him a pittance, he won't bother anyone, I can't leave him at home, please. Hopefully her boss thought it a fair trade. Trowa liked washing dishes.

Catherine approached the teller when it came around to their turn. Trowa straightened the stacks of free checking information cards. Relena would be pleased. "Here, Trowa, give the lady your check," Catherine prompted. He slid the check across the counter.

The bank teller was giving him an odd, pitying look with equal parts confusion mixed in. He was used to such looks. People usually assumed he was just deaf or dumb, or both, instead of crazy. He never knew what Catherine used as an explanation. He doubted she used the term crazy. He didn't like it much himself.

The teller counted out five twenty-dollar bills. It was the most money he'd ever held. Catherine beamed happily as he slipped the bills into his pocket. She finished up her own transaction, making a small deposit into her savings and withdrawing some cash. Trowa couldn't help but glance at the receipt; his sister had a pretty hefty savings account for a waitress. Her checking account had a far more modest sum. He felt a little guilty for snooping and looked away.

Back in the car, Catherine kept asking about his interests and listing the possible things he could buy with the money. Trowa saw another pigeon dart out into the street, but this one fortunately took to the sky before anything could run it over. He thought it would be nice to buy a loaf of bread and find a park to feed ducks in. The sun shone brightly and enough of a cool breeze existed to lift the worst of the heat. Maybe some squirrels would show up. Trowa liked animals.

Instead of going home, Catherine drove them to the large mall at the outskirts of the suburbs, enthusing on the different clothing stores and how nice Trowa would look in new clothes. They passed a park, and Trowa eagerly looked for the ducks. There was a small pond, but no ducks. He sat back in disappointment. How many loaves of bread could he buy with a hundred dollars? Quite a few. What did squirrels eat, nuts? A bag of peanuts couldn't be very expensive. With a hundred dollars, he could probably just buy a duck to put in the pond and have money left over for bread, too.

Catherine turned into the mall parking lot, driving past the empty section in front of the theater. She edged into the crowded section directly in front of the main entrance; for a Wednesday afternoon, there were a lot of cars. She parked direct underneath one of the lot-banners. They were parked in the acorn lot. Catherine wrapped the looped handle of her clutch purse around her hand and left the big shoulder bag behind, stuffed up under the seat. The auburn in her hair shone brightly in the sun. She wore big, green hoop earrings to match her top.

Trowa trailed after her. A cluster of teenage kids decked out in black, baggy pants, chains, eyeliner and hair dye loitered outside the main entrance. One of them stared at Catherine's legs and Trowa stepped up to be even with his sister, glaring down the teen. The punk looked away. Catherine kept walking, oblivious.

Cool air blasted them as the automatic doors glided open, and Catherine made a soft "aahh" sound. Trowa preferred the outside breeze. He held his arms stiff at his side, suddenly conscious of the old, faded shirt he was wearing. It was Catherine's high school homecoming shirt, dated four years previous, but as she explained "their idea of a medium was way off" so the shirt fit Trowa just fine. The short sleeves left his arms bare and the air conditioning sent little ripples of goose bumps over them.

"Where do you want to go first?" Catherine went over to the large information board. A little red dot accompanied by a large arrow pointed to their location on the confusing map. Catherine studied the map for a while. "Let's look at jeans. I'm pretty sure you've gotten taller again. Soon you'll be as tall as Da—"

Catherine's voice snapped off so suddenly she nearly choked. With high spots of color on her face she resolutely stared at the information board until the pink faded under her makeup. "This way," she announced, striding ahead.

Trowa followed her closely through the dense crowd. To his relief the crush of people eased once they left the high traffic areas. His sister confidently picked out a path to one of the anchor department stores but, once inside, faltered for a moment. They wandered a circuit of the store before venturing up the escalators and into the men's department. Trowa stood patiently while Catherine eyeballed several different sizes on him. Arms loaded with denim, Trowa was ushered into one of the dressing rooms.

He tried on one of the pairs and, since it fit, didn't bother to try the rest. The price tag was slashed through several times with discounts. Trowa sat on the little chair in the dressing room and counted to one hundred. The mirror-lined walls reflected his expression into infinity. When enough time had passed he walked out to find Catherine with several more pairs of pants. Corduroys, khakis, cargo pants… Trowa kept the one pair he'd tried on and surrendered the others.

"You need more than just one," his sister argued. Her eyes gleamed with shopping fervor. He had never once seen his sister grow tired of shopping. "Everything you have is too small." She gestured to the peeping glance of his sock-clad ankles his current jeans permitted.

Ignoring her, Trowa wandered through the tables until he found duplicates of the pair in his hands. Catherine trailed after him, abandoning her selections along the way. Trowa got two in dark denim, two in a stone wash, and two in black. "Well… I guess that'll work," Catherine said, voice heavy with disappointment. She took the jeans from him and slung them over her arm. "Now for some shirts. You like green, don't you?"

Trowa trailed after her reluctantly. His sister snagged a multitude of colors and styles off the racks and set them up against his back to check the size. She kept up a stream of one-sided conversation the entire time, leaving Trowa with little to do. Eventually she settled on a handful of shirts she liked and they went off to find a register. On the way they passed the shoes and she noticeably slowed, eyes devouring the selection of colorful high-heels. She glanced once at his battered tennis shoes and suddenly Trowa found himself sitting on a little bench with his socked foot shoved into a metal size guide.

"You're growing so fast!" Catherine gushed. She started bringing over boxes of shoes for him to try on. "I was still taller than you not so long ago." While Trowa methodically worked his way through the parade of sneakers, his sister longingly hovered over a set of lavender wedges with long, ballerina-style ribbons. "Did any of them fit?" she called over. She picked up the shoe to examine it from every possible angle.

Trowa picked out the shoes he liked best and set the box on top his pile of new clothes. After a while Catherine reluctantly set the wedges back down and came over to view his selection. She glanced briefly inside the box before scooping up the whole pile into her arms. As they left, Trowa flipped the little white tag around to check the price on the wedges. It appalled him someone would create hundred dollar shoes. He was glad Catherine hadn't blown her money on them. When could she wear them? Girls could be so impractical sometimes.

The lady at the register gleefully chatted with his sister while the clothes were being wrung up. After a moment, Trowa realized they knew each other. He tried to blend in with a display of sweaters, but Catherine snagged him out. "Bethany," she was saying, "this is my little brother, Trowa. Bethany and I had classes together, Trowa."

"Hi, Trowa," she chirped. "Nice to meet you."

"He's shy," Catherine hastily explained. She fished around in her clutch for a moment before pulling out her slim little wallet.

"I guess," the girl replied. "It's $364.76 all together. So what classes are you taking next semester?"

Trowa pulled out his wallet as well, but Catherine waved it away. "I got it," she told him, whipping out her check card. Spots of pink appeared on her cheeks as she passed it over to her friend. "Oh, I'm not taking anything," his sister said lightly. "I work now."

"Oh, really?" the girl took the card and ran it through. "That's cool." She slid the receipt across the counter along with a pen. "Yeah. I just do this in the summer. It pays all right. What do you do?"

"Research and development," Catherine lied. She quickly scribbled her name and pocketed the carbon copy. "Be seeing you." She took the bag holding Trowa's shoes and he looped the rest over his arm. They escaped quickly, Catherine's face gaining more and more red. Trowa awkwardly fell back so he wouldn't have to see her struggling for composure.

Catherine had been in her second week of classes six months ago when she'd come home to find her roommate unexpectedly out and her little brother on the kitchen floor. It hadn't been Trowa's intention to cause her to drop out. He liked the idea of her getting a degree. She had been studying biology. Trowa fell back even further until the back of Catherine's head was just visible between the gaps of teens and gossiping mothers. She'd dropped out of school, packed up her stuff, and moved into the city just to be close to the hospital.

The multitude of bags suddenly felt very heavy as Trowa trudged along. The doctors had said with another hour alone he would have succeeded. He hated playing the what if game, but that one hour's difference always nagged at him. It always seemed a matter of "if." If only the prescription had been full, if only the bushes hadn't broken his fall, if only Catherine hadn't come home early. If only—

Catherine caught back up with him, her eyes bright and attentive on his face. "Here, those look heavy. Why don't I run them out to the car? There's a bookstore just over there," she pointed. "You can look for another puzzle book, or something. I'll catch back up in a few minutes?" She smiled softly, reaching for the bags.

Trowa stared at her. She had not left him alone for even so much as a second the entire time he had been home from the hospital, relying on the elderly woman next door before taking him with her to work. It seemed now that she was trying to show him a little trust, a little independence. What kind of trouble could he get into at the mall, after all? He nodded, handing her the heavy bags of clothes. She looked over her shoulder once before disappearing into the crowd.

A pair of mothers stood talking over the heads of their children outside the bookstore. Some new book was featured prominently on cardboard displays outside the storefront. A blond teenager in a faded blue shirt was reading the book.

Trowa stopped walking so abruptly that the man behind him strode over the back of his heels. He ignored the apology and stepped forward slowly, it felt like moving underwater, surely his eyes were playing tricks on him, surely he was dreaming, surely he had to be mistaken.

Trowa closed a hand over the boy's elbow. He startled and turned. Aquamarine eyes, so blue and deep he could fall in them, drown in them, stared up at him.

(Author's Notes)

This is almost like a part two, since I'm posting chapters 35 and 36 back to back. I guess you can see why I was working on them simultaneously.

Thank you for reading. I hope to see you again soon.

Also I haven't used FFN in nearly 4 years, so if the formatting is strange... forgive me.