Warnings: um . . . well, yaoi implications (thought-wise, not action-wise) and Quatre's kind of acting like a bastard, occasionally. sweatdrop
Disclaimer: The characters, organizations, and such belong to Sunrise and the Sotsu
Agency. The twisted things that are
going on in their lives and minds belong to me. Hopefully, no one will be offended.
C&C: yes, please!
From Forever to Forever
Part Thirteen: Do You . . .
New Year's Day, A.C. 211—Quatre
Winner—7:58 a.m.
I look down at the itinerary in front of me. The discussion about colonial self-governing
rights won't come up until after the break; that's when I'll have to speak out against
the Earth Sphere ban on homosexual marriages.
I wonder if Silvia would be happy that I've picked up her
argument. Or would she question my
motives? Hell, I've questioned my
motives. No matter how many times I
tell myself that I'm doing this for Sil, all I can think about is Trowa.
It happened again a couple of months ago—in
November. I'd vowed to myself that I
wouldn't do it again—I was lucky that Trowa was able to remain friends after
the first time. But we were alone; Maja
had gone to bed, and we were sitting in my office, talking. I can't even remember what we were
discussing. I offered him a drink, and
one thing led to another.
That night—just like the first time—I was lying in bed
watching Trowa sleep. I felt such a
powerful affection for him that it scared me. It wasn't just sex—I knew that from the very beginning, but it was
alarming to be so blatently reminded. I
needed him—I needed to know that I wasn't alone. After I stared at him for at least an hour, I had to leave. The tender smile etched on his face made my
heart beat out of rhythm. Having him
next to me made me more content than I had been in a long time. These
feelings—they were too familiar.
I don't want to fall in love
with him.
I close my eyes, rubbing my temples. I have to stop thinking about him and focus
on the political issues. I'm not here
for him. I'm here for Silvia—I'm doing
it for her.
"Mr. Winner?" my secretary whispers. "Are you all right?"
I nod. I'm not
all right, though. I don't know what's
wrong with me; I haven't been myself since Silvia died.
Except for those two times, lying there with Trowa. Something about that felt right.
I feel sick.
I won't let myself fall for him.
Glancing across the table, I notice WuFei whispering to Relena. They've changed over the years—Relena is
much more subdued and WuFei has taken more of an interest in politics and life,
rather than death and justice. But
they're the same people. I bet they
don't lie awake at night, wondering if they'll ever be themselves again. Wondering if they've done the right
thing. I bet they hardly notice they've
changed. I lose focus of the meeting, wondering
if getting myself back is worth letting go of Silvia.
New Year's Day—WuFei
Chang—11:58 a.m.
I make my way over to the buffet table, where Quatre's
pouring a cup of tea. He glances over
at me and gives a half-hearted smile.
"Nice speech," I compliment. It was well done—even Relena agrees that the legislation will
probably be passed, if the entire parliament is given a chance to hear it.
"Thank you." His
voice sounds . . . hollow. "Yours was
rather convincing, too."
I shrug. "It's
not hard to convince people that bio-chemical warfare testing on earth or in
the colonies is a bad thing. Sally was
the one who did all the research, though." She had supported my political endeavors from the beginning—I couldn't
ask for anything more from her. Quatre
nods, his expression passive. I decide
to change the subject. "Isn't today
Maja's birthday?"
"Yes." His voice
is quiet. "She's with Trowa right
now—he's been taking care of her while I'm here."
I'm not sure how to react to his behavior—I've never seen
him quite like this. I'm sure it's
because of Silvia. He's been going
downhill for the past two and a half years. Certainly his whole political interest is a way of keeping her close to
him. Just like I did with Meiran.
"You can't hold on to Silvia forever," I remind him
gently. His body tenses. "Continuing her battles will do nothing to
help you."
He bristles with anger. "What do you know?" he asks, his voice suddenly cold. "You're assuming that I'm the same as you,
WuFei. I loved her—you can't know what
that's like—you never loved your wife."
I turn my back to him. He knows little about my life—he doesn't know how much her death really
did hurt me. "Everything I ever was
during the war was a result of my love for Meiran," I hiss through clenched
teeth. "All my beliefs—everything I
said about strength and justice—were just imitations of hers. The only reason I fought was because of her
dying words." I'm amazed at how much it
still hurts to talk about her. "It took
me almost fifteen years to realize that I was trying to live her life instead
of my own. I was searching for
justice—trying to be the strong one—because that's what she expected of
me. Because of my love for Meiran, I
almost denied my love for Sally. You
can't ignore yourself—your life—because of Silvia's death. You have a daughter to take care of. You haven't been yourself."
"What if I told you . . . " he trails off, and I turn
around to look at him curiously.
"What?" I haven't
heard Quatre sound that shy since he was a kid.
For a moment he looks at me, a confused and pained
expression on his face. Then he shakes his
head and speaks, his voice low and thick. "I'm not trying to take over all of her battles. This one was the most important to her, and
I want it settled—for Silvia as well as for my colony. But you're right—about me, and about
Maja." He walks away, heading over to
his seat again. His face looks
determined—not at all like it was before.
I sigh, irritated. I don't know what's going on in this world anymore.
New Year's Day—Trowa Barton—12:21 p.m.
I don't know if she'll enjoy the circus as much as I do,
but it's the only spur-of-the-moment entertainment I can come up with.
Of course, I haven't minded spending the week with
Maja. I just hadn't expected Quatre to
go on a business trip with a two-day notice.
"Is Catherine here?" Maja asks, absently
pulling her long, blonde hair off of her neck. She's only met Catherine twice, but they were instantly drawn to each
other.
"Yeah, she should be around here
somewhere." I lead her toward the
lion cages. She's never shown a
particular interest in them, as far as I know—but who doesn't like lions?
She squats down in front of the cage, reaching out to pet
one. Before I can think to warn her,
the largest female comes over, nuzzling against her hand. "They like me," she laughs.
"Mm-hmm." I take one of her hair bands from my pocket and quickly pull her hair up into a ponytail. The climate on this colony is horrible for long hair, but it's probably the one thing she's vain about. I can't blame her. Her hair is as golden and shiny as Quatre's, and smells like pears. For a moment I wonder if his hair is quite this soft. I can't remember.
"Would you like me to bring out the lions later
on?" Catherine will probably kill
me, but she knows I'll do anything to keep Maja happy.
"Trowa Barton, don't even think about it unless you
clear it with the others first!" Catherine cries out from somewhere behind
me. "You'd think a man who's
worked in a circus would know better than that!"
She walks over, giving a
one-armed hug; in her other hand she balances a tray of hotdogs and juice. She's the perfect single mom—one of those
women that can juggle everything that's thrown her way.
"I brought lunch," she says,
smiling. "The boys are with their
dad—they probably wouldn't have gone if they knew you were coming. It's your birthday today, isn't it, kiddo?"
"Yep." Maja flashes us a smile.
Catherine shakes her head. "Has anyone told you how much you look like your
father?" I was thinking the same
thing.
Maja nods, rolling her eyes. "I think Mom used to tell me that every day."
Catherine smiles gently, then turns to me. "You have a call; you can take it in my
trailer." She sits down beside the
girl, beginning a conversation. Maja
doesn't hesitate to begin eating. Her
appetite reminds me of Duo.
I make my way
over to the trailer, wondering who would be calling. No one knew I was here. I'm greeted with the face of Quatre Winner. He's smiling—well, as much as he ever does these days.
"I had a feeling you'd be here today," he says, rather
than hello.
"She seems to
like lions. How can I resist?"
"I just want you to know that I've arranged to come home
early—tonight, in fact—but I want to surprise Maja. Okay?"
I nod slightly; has he always been so abrupt? When did we stop talking to each other? Have
we even had a real conversation since Silvia died? I can't remember a single one—other than our first night. But then again, he's a busy man. And I—well, I try to keep myself from
thinking along these lines.
He gives me a rushed goodbye and I head back over to the
picnic table. Catherine excuses
herself, and I take her seat.
"It was Dad?" Maja asks.
I nod.
"You know, if you love him so much, you should marry
him."
Her words shock me. "What are you talking about, Maja?"
"Dad. I know
you love him—it's obvious. You should
get married."
"Maja, come on. Men don't marry men. They marry
women." I can hardly believe it
when I find myself saying the same terrible thing her father had said all those
years ago. The familiar words still sting.
She raises her eyebrows as she takes a bite of her
hotdog. "That's not what Dad
says," she informs me before swallowing her food.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," I admonish,
not showing how shaken I am by her words. "What do you mean by that?"
She chews quickly and swallows before speaking. "He's been lobbying for a new law
allowing homosexual marriages in the colonies. I guess it's something Mom had been working on for a long
time."
Since when do ten-year-olds know about lobbyists and homosexual
rights? Maja's never been ordinary,
though. I shouldn't be surprised. "Just because men can marry
doesn't mean they should."
She raises an eyebrow in the same way her mother used to
when she knew I was lying. "What's
more important than marrying someone you love?"
"How about making sure that it's what the person you
love wants?" I can hear the pinch
of pain in my voice and I'm ashamed of letting it slip. I never imagined I'd be having this
conversation with Maja, of all people. Not in a thousand years.
She wipes her fingers on a napkin and takes a gulp of her
fruit punch. "Ah," she sighs,
"ghal Tat ish-shaaTir bi-'alf ghalTa."
So Quatre taught her Arabic. "What does that mean?"
She laughs. "'The clever man's mistakes are equal to a thousand mistakes.' In other words, gifted people like you
should take special care not to make blunders. It's something Dad always says."
I'm getting tired of hearing about what Quatre says. "And what kind of cryptic message is
that?" I hate proverbs.
"You don't take risks, do you?"
"I'm a Preventor. My life is a risk."
She smiles slightly, looking more like Silvia than she
ever has in her life. "I mean emotional
risks. You wear your heart on your
sleeve, but you won't do what it tells you to."
So she thinks I should say something to him? For a split second, I let myself consider
it.
I shake my head, disgusted with myself.
I'm not going to take romantic advice from a
ten-year-old.