From Behind The Glass

Part Seven

At around 10:30am, Trowa arrived at the Winner building. It was very quiet in the ground floor unlike earlier when it was filled with people. All that could be heard were the sounds of those at the information desks, quietly gossiping over the phone. The elevator doors would occasionally open and close as people made their way to the different parts of the building.

Knowing that his presence would cause quite a stir, Trowa decided to wait at the lobby rather than make his way up to the top floor. He headed straight for the information desk, intent on contacting Quatre to remind him of their meeting. As he approached the desk, he was greeted by a nice old lady dressed in a simple gray suit.

"Mr. Barton! I didn't know you were coming today! I'll call Mr. Winner's secretary and have you connected to him right away."

Trowa patiently waited by the desk as someone approached him from behind.

"So, Trowa, did Quatre *really* have a good vacation?" It was Anne, Quatre's assistant.

"Having an early lunch?" Trowa answered.

"Don't change the subject. He looks a lot worse now than he did before he left. He may look like he's fine but I'm very familiar with the 'Oh, I'm fine - I ate - I slept eight hours last night - routine'. He does it every morning. So tell me, what's wrong?"

"Pneumonia." It was just like Trowa to simply answer every question straight to the point.

"Like I would believe that! It can't possibly be that simple."

Trowa sighed. "That's what the doctor said. He really seems fine to the rest of the world."

Feeling a little guilty for attacking Trowa, Anne decided to cheer him up. "Hey, don't look so glum. I believe you, really. I'm sorry for that little interrogation."

"I think that was something more than a *little* interrogation."

"Just kidding! Loosen up! You know that everyone around here's very protective of him."

"... a little *too* protective!"

"Speak for yourself. ... By the way, about the other day, could you thank your friend Wufei for calling me a 'weak woman' at 3:30 in the morning. ... Heero too, for threatening to kill me if I didn't get my ass up. Duo, you could thank for mimicking my deceased father's voice when I was half awake. He scared me half to death!"

Trowa merely smiled, remembering his friends' unconventional personalities.

"Anyway,..." the overenthusiastic assistant continued, "... Do you want me to bring you all the way to the top floor?"

"I can walk."

"Suit yourself. Don't come running to me when all those little flirts are all over you."

Trowa was suddenly alarmed at the remembrance of his last visit. He tried to reach Quatre's office only to be stopped, constantly, by women who were pretty much intent on seducing him. One woman even went as far as pinching his behind and blowing him a kiss right after.

Almost everyone in the building loved Trowa just as much as they did Quatre. The only difference was that they were a lot more forward with him. Quatre was, after all, their 'boss'.

"No! Wait. Come with me."

"Did I hear the word please?"

"Please?"

"Well,... okay! I must say though, you two are gonna cause a lot of heartbreaks with those looks."

A few moments of silence passed before she continued. " So, wanna marry me?"

"No." Trowa said with a hint of amusement on his face.

"Why not? *Quatre* said yes this morning. .... Just kidding! .... Stop it! I don't deserve 'the look'. ... Okay, so he did say yes but he was in zombie mode. Happy?"

Very much contented with the explanation, Trowa looked back at the information clerk to wait for a response.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Barton, but the line to Mr. Winner's office is busy."

Not wanting to wait any longer, the assistant pulled Trowa and pushed him in the elevator.

"Quatre's secretary just hates you. She's probably doing this on purpose. Don't worry, we'll get there soon enough."

"So, she does hate me!" Trowa whispered to himself.

"What did Quatre say about that?" asked his companion who obviously overheard what he said.

"I have a wild imagination."

"That secretary of his glorifies him like a god and he's just so clueless about it."

The first few floors the two passed by were quite uneventful, but going further up deemed a greater problem than was expected. All the people that came in were looking at Trowa with hungry eyes, which scared him more than he predicted. Most of them were satisfied with silently admiring him. Others, however, were more aggressive, not waiting to make their moves. They were, of course, stopped immediately by Trowa's savior, the rowdy woman beside him.

After a few little disagreements and misunderstandings later, the elevator was vacated. The constant chattering of women stopped, but so did the elevator.

"Great! Quatre's going to blame me for not getting you to him on time." Looking around, the worried secretary said "Where's the emergency phone?... There's supposed to be one around here. This is just making me hungry... you hungry? I know I am. ... What's wrong with you?"

"You talk too much."

"Well, it does make up for your lack of words. We're just balancing each other out."

Anne continued her persistent babbling as Trowa listened. The first two minutes were fine, but after a total of five minutes, Trowa started to hear less of what she was saying. He was usually attentive with the talkative types, even Duo, but this time, he felt something odd. It was as if there was something wrong. It was the same feeling he had during the disastrous vacation just a few days ago.

Meanwhile, on the top floor, Quatre was sitting in his large, soft chair, reading through documentations, having one hand holding a pen, and the other massaging his forehead.

"Why do I even bother reading the fine prints? It would be *so* much easier if these contracts were straightforward without any of those hidden meanings. At the rate I'm going, I'm gonna end up wearing eyeglasses."

Quatre, lost in his own world, started imagining himself in eyeglasses. Realizing how he would look like, he instantly put down the papers he had on his hands. He didn't want to strain his eyes any further, and the though of him in glasses just frightened him. So, he sat back on his chair and closed his eyes in meditation. After relaxing for some time, he started shivering.

"I think I'm getting a fever. I hope I don't start coughing again."

As if on cue, his airways started constricting, leaving him breathless. It was becoming harder on him as he started coughing. This went on for quite some time and it did nothing less than drain out most of his energy. Not soon after, his coughing took on a violent turn as blood was forced out of his mouth. He wanted to run to the washroom but decided against it, knowing that he wouldn't make it. Feeling the rest of his energy drain, he leaned down and dropped his head to the table, still trying to stop whatever it was that was causing it.

On another location in the building, Trowa was still with Anne inside the jammed elevator. He continued thinking deeply as his companion continued her nonstop babbling. He couldn't pinpoint the source of his distress but he knew that whatever caused it needed immediate attention.

Just as he was able to identify the problem, the elevator door suddenly opened, revealing half of a level in front of him. He didn't waste any time as he sat down and slid under the half opened door, gracefully landing on the ground. He headed straight for the stairway and climbed the rest of the five floors up. He ran past the very furious secretary and almost collided with the strong wooden doors ahead of him.

His suspicions were confirmed when he opened the door and saw a feeble Quatre resting his head on the table. As he came closer, he saw the blood that was spread on the papers before him. Without delay, Trowa picked up the now unconscious Quatre and started calling for help.