From Forever to Forever: Till Death

Author's Note: Wow—here it is: the final installment. Special thanks to Ryoko-oneechan, for editing and being patient and err, helping me with the lemony scenes. Special thanks to Calla, for listening to me rave about GW since I the first day I worked with her. More special thanks to Lilias-jiejie, who hopped on board last, but definitely did not contribute the least. A better sampler/editor/online friend I've never seen! Speaking of online support, I would be crazy not to mention the wondrous slave-driver, hyuy. Though I must say, I was beginning to *enjoy* the whip! Extra-special thanks to Sarahfish, because she's cool. Actually, thanks go to her because she gave me an ideal time frame for my work. (I wanted to have this done by the time you got back, S-fish. Err…sorry it's late! This saga's for you!) And as a final note…ah…3x4/4x3 Forever!!! author takes a bow to the thunderous cheers of…Quatre and Trowa

Disclaimer: I'm not an owner of Gundam Wing. I'm a poor widdle college girl (i.e. no money). Please don't sue.

C&C: mail away!!

From Forever to Forever

Part Fifteen: Till Death

Christmas Day, A.C. 213—Hilde Maxwell—7:18 p.m.

Even though I'm thirty-three years old, Christmas still affects me the same way it did when I was a kid. Watching the twins run around with new toys fills me with joy. And I know Duo feels the same way. He plays with their games more than they do each Christmas morning. He still has Judas's mobile suit toys. There's no way the boy's ever getting those back.

But now that Judas and Tresa are thirteen, I guess Duo won't be getting many more toys to play with. Except of course, for the video games . . .

Relena and Heero's entrance snaps me out of my thoughtful trance.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Relena cries happily before giving Duo a hearty embrace. The twins launch themselves at "Uncle Heero" and seven-year-old Irina shyly steps out from behind her father to give Trowa a brief hug.

"I'm glad you guys could make it," Quatre says merrily, coming into the foyer. "We were worried when you didn't call."

Relena smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry we're later than usual. We just came here from my brother's home—we've been terribly rushed all season."

"I know that feeling," Trowa answers, smiling as he glances at Quatre. "Catherine wants me to go see her before the New Year—so I think that means I'll have to leave tomorrow or the day after." He rolls his eyes, obviously amused by his still-overprotective sister. "But don't consider yourself late—you're right on time for dinner."

I take Irina's light jacket and drape it over a chair as we all head into the dining room. Quatre's already standing at the head of the table, lighting candles.

"Isn't this romantic?" Sally murmurs, hiding a sarcastic grin behind one hand.

"Why so fancy?" Duo asks.

Quatre shrugs. "I want today to be special. We haven't been together for months." He smiles, looking more like himself than he has in the last five years. "Oh—and I must warn everyone that I actually helped cook this year—you can blame me if something's horrible."

Maja plops down in her chair with a snort. "I think it's the first time Dad's ever been in the kitchen."

Something catches my eye as Quatre's gesturing for us to begin serving.

"Quatre—are you wearing your wedding ring again?" I ask, trying to keep the worry from my voice. Duo told me that he was finally moving on. Maybe he was mistaken. He's acting more cheerful, but maybe it's a front to keep us all from worrying.

Sally, who is sitting next to him, glances over at him. "Hnn. I thought your band was platinum."

Quatre blushes slightly, busying himself with the turkey.

Maja begins giggling, her eyes glued to her father.

"You didn't—did you?" Duo cries like a madman, jumping to his feet.

"What?" I ask. I can here Heero snickering beside me, and WuFei is smirking across the table.

"You ran off and got married again, didn't you? I suppose she' s some kid who had to spend Christmas with Mommy and Daddy?" Duo points at Quatre while throwing an accusing glare at Trowa. "You're his best friend—why didn't you stop him?"

All eyes turn to Trowa.

"To be honest I didn't really want to," he says. He brushes his bangs out of his laughing eyes, and the candlelight catches his matching gold wedding band.

Christmas Day--Trowa Barton--9:23 p.m.

I lean against the balcony railing, smelling the cooling desert air. Something about tonight takes me back fifteen years—when I had confessed to Quatre on a similar balcony. It's strange how things can change over time. It had been the worst night of my life—but now the memory doesn't bring hurt. Occasionally there's a bittersweet ache when I recall all the years I spent trying to get over him, but now I can smile to myself, knowing that I was able to wait it out.

I wonder if he'll follow me out here.

Downstairs they're sharing their mandatory after-dinner stories. When I left, the kids had grown bored and went up to Maja's room to play, and Sally and Duo were preparing to arm-wrestle each other—apparently she had grown tired of his bragging. I decided to take the opportunity to sit back for a moment.

Behind me, in the bedroom, the door opens. So he did follow me.

After a moment, I feel his warm hand resting on the small of my back. "Escaping?"

I smile. "For a moment."

He joins me at the railing, lacing his fingers through mine. We're silent for a little while, just enjoying the company and the cool breeze.

"Trowa," he begins, turning toward me with a troubled expression, "I've apologized for everything I did over the past few years—but there's another thing that's been bothering me."

I nod slightly. So he's remembering that night, too.

"I was afraid of you—that's why I lashed out. And I'm sorry I let it ruin things between us for the next two years." He leans against me and I wrap my arms around him. "I didn't talk to you because I was scared of the way you made me feel. I hated you for making me forget Silvia—even for an instant."

"You said something about that years ago," I whisper, kissing him softly. "Do you even remember that bachelor party?"

He looks up at me with curious eyes. "No—I hardly remember anything, other than waking up on the floor in the closet."

I smirk at him, amused by his innocent expression. "Just who do you think you were in the closet with?"

He blushes slightly, burying his face in my collar. "Thanks for not saying anything—to me or Silvia," he says, his voice muffled.

"Don't worry—it was only a kiss." He can't stand the idea of ever having been unfaithful to Silvia—so I can't let him think that any more happened than that. I lift his chin with my fingers, brushing my lips against his again. "You know," I tease with a smile, "you're a flirt when you're drunk."

"Really?" Quatre's face lights up with amusement, making him look years younger than he is.

I nod. "Damn near irresistible," I whisper gruffly, closing the gap between us. He kisses back eagerly, his tongue sliding against mine as his arms wind around my back. Even though we've been together for a year now—and married for several weeks—it never fails to amaze me that he's mine. His lips move to my jaw, tracing a line toward my ear.

"Trowa," he whispers between kisses, "we probably have quite a bit of time before anyone will notice that we're missing."

I've enjoyed this quirk of his—the way he always gets amorous during parties and the like. The thought is enticing, though, to say the least. I nod, unbuttoning his pants as he begins to nibble on my earlobe. As I finally get his zipper down, the sound of the bedroom door being slammed open makes us jump away from each other.

"Dad! Judas just tried to kiss m—" Maja's words cut off abruptly when Quatre spins away, fastening his pants quickly. Her face flushes, mirroring her father's. "I—I'm sorry!" With a mortified expression, she immediately runs out of the room.

After a moment, Quatre looks at me with laughing eyes. "Maybe we should go back downstairs."

I nod, but I don't move. I'm still waiting. He'll notice soon.

He begins to head inside but suddenly stops in his tracks. "Did she just say—?"

"Yes. Don't strangle him."

Christmas Day—Quatre Winner—11:56 p.m.

I close the bathroom door behind me softly, glancing over to the bed. Trowa's sitting up, flipping through an old photo album. He's wearing reading glasses. Sometimes it's strange to realize how much older we've grown. I study the way his hair flops over the lenses. Older, but definitely wonderful.

He looks up at me, smiling slightly. "Maja's already asleep. I checked on her."

I slide into bed beside him, watching him carefully. Something about his expression seems . . . different.

He takes out one picture, holding it up so I can see it. It's one of my favorites—Rashid giving Maja a piggy-back ride when she was two. "This is cute," he says. With a sigh, he puts it back in the album.

I flip the book forward several pages, showing him a snapshot of Maja and me; we're both asleep on the sofa, the little infant cradled against my chest. "That's my absolute favorite picture of her," I tell him. I like the way his eyes light up at the sight of it—there's no doubting how much he cares about us.

He sets the album on the nightstand, laying his glasses on top of it. He turns out the light and makes himself comfortable. "You two are so close. It's great," he says, curling his body against mine.

I smile through the darkness, letting my fingers lace with his. "Yeah, but sometimes I think she loves you more."

"No," Trowa whispers, his breath warm on my neck. "She's just a little more open with me—I was never there for her potty training, or all the discipline. I was the fun guy who took her to the circus."

Even as a tiny kid, she was always anxious to run off with her Trowa. He probably had a lot of fun with her back then. Remembering Maja as a three-year-old is enough to make me shudder. Rambunctious hardly begins to describe her behavior. And I'm a little frightened of her upcoming teenage years—the idea of her stuffing her purse with glow-in-the-dark condoms is enough to turn my stomach.

But I won't have to go through it alone. I'll have Trowa with me. He won't allow me to let her get away with anything like that. And that makes me happier than I've been in a long time.

I pull back from him, cupping his face with my hands; his lips stretch into a sleepy smile. "Would you want to experience all that?" I ask him.

His eyes, dark in the dim light, narrow with confusion. "What do you mean, Quatre?"

I kiss him softly, winding one leg around his. "Do you want to have a baby? Yours and mine?" I've never seen someone better with children than Trowa. He's a natural parent.

"Ours?" His voice is soft, almost in disbelief.

I nod. "The genetic capabilities have been around for years—and artificial wombs even longer." I can hardly believe I'm proposing this idea. Ten years ago this would've never happened; I have Silvia to thank. "What do you think?"

He's silent for a moment, thinking. "I've never even considered having my own child," he whispers, sounding slightly in awe of the whole concept. "It never seemed like a realistic option." He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling in contemplation.

I rest my head on his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. His arms snake around me, holding me tightly. I can feel his steady heartbeat under my cheek—a constant rhythm in my life for the past year. I haven't been so content in such a long time. He's rejuvenated me—physically, emotionally.

"Our life is so perfect . . . so complete as it is," Trowa whispers, running a hand through my hair. "All I've ever wanted was you and Maja—I don't want to change our little family just yet." He pauses. "But—thank you. I know what this means to you, if you're willing to go against your own principles."

"My former principles, you mean," I correct. "Even I can change over time."

"And aren't I glad of that!" He laughs gently, stroking the rift between my shoulder blades. "I'd hate to think of what my life would be like if you hadn't—" His voice quivers before he cuts off completely. I look up to see his eyes close.

"I'd hate it too," I confess softly. "I'd hate to think of what my life would be like if you hadn't believed in me."

He kisses my head, ruffling my hair with his fingers. "I'll always believe in you, Quatre. No matter what happens."

"Forever?" My voice hardly forms the word. The last time it hadn't been long enough—I couldn't bear to have Trowa leave me, too.

He tilts my head up so our eyes meet. His gaze is intense. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises seriously. "I'm here forever."

The End