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On Edge
by Lady Aishiteru
Email: Lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com
Website: http://www.100megspop2.com/ladya/ (It's under constant construction, though.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but whoever does is really lucky. Please do not sue me. I am a college student, therefore I am poor.
~*~Chapter 3~*~
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"Mr. Winner?"
"Huh?" said Quatre.
The nurse smiled. He looked handsome, even handsomer than the magazine pictures she had seen. His clothing was a bit rumpled and he had the beginnings of a blond beard forming along his no nonsense jawline. And, she noted, the articles were true. He does have kind eyes.
"I wanted to see if you wanted to take a rest or something. Say, my shift is just about over. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?"
Quatre smiled and shook his head. "No, thanks, I'm fine here."
The nurse nodded politely and began to walk away, but Quatre stopped her. "That coffee does sound good, though. Can you have someone bring me a cup?"
"Sure, it'll be along shortly."
"Thanks!" Quatre said, smiling a charming smile.
He ran his hands through his hair and stretched to get the kink out of his neck. 'Man, I must look awful,' he thought. 'Boy, if Rashid could see me now.' He pictured his servant fussing over his wrinkly clothes, yelling after the other Maguanacs to grab some shaving foam, leather and an old fashioned razor, not to mention his hair....
Truth be told, he didn't care that much for his looks. He only submitted to the pampering because it was what was expected of him, plus it made Rashid feel happy. After the war, he took on all forty Maguanacs as his servants, with Rashid in charge. It was strange at first, watching men who were used to piloting MS's polishing the silver and doing the wash, but it made them happy to be near Quatre, he mused as he realized that he was still holding Catherine's hand.
When had he taken her hand in his own, wondered Quatre. He opened his hand a bit to study the one he was holding. Quatre had always held a fascination with hands. He felt that hands told a lot about a person. His own were slender, yet held a kind of masculine beauty, even though he felt that they had been stained by too much blood during his time as a soldier. He wondered if she would feel that her hands were also stained, but to him, they conveyed a kind of delicate beauty.
"Mmmm...Quatre?" asked Catherine.
"Hey," said Quatre, stroking her hand in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Good morning."
She frowned. "Yeah, right."
"Come on, now. Frowning doesn't suit you," said Quatre.
She gave a weak imitation of a smile. "Better?"
"It's a start."
She took her hand and crossed her arms. "I suppose you're going to lecture me on taking better care of myself."
He shook his head. "No, I'm not here to judge you, Catherine."
"Oh?" she said, a bit of her old feistiness emerging. "Aren't you mad at me? Even a little?"
"Why would I be mad at you?" he asked.
"Because I killed your best friend," she said, turning her face away so he wouldn't see her cry.
Gently, Quatre drew her face towards Quatre and held it there, so they were making eye contact. "Catherine, nobody blames you for what happened. It was an accident."
She nodded, but she couldn't stop the steady trail of tears from flowing. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and her upper lip began to quiver.
"It's okay to cry. Let it out," he said.
She didn't need any further encouragement. Unable to hold in her emotions any longer, she released her anguish in pain wracked sobs, as Quatre let her head rest on his shoulder. He sat there like that for over an hour, patting her back, whispering words of comfort he had learned from his sisters.
Catherine lifted her head and gave a final sniffle. "Oh my God...your shirt! I ruined it! I'm so sorry," she said, pointing to the big wet spot on his shoulder.
Quatre put a finger to her lips. "You don't need to apologize. Let yourself grieve, Catherine. It's the first step towards feeling better. Now do you want some breakfast?"
She nodded.
"I'll have Rashid bring us some breakfast," he said, getting out his cell phone. "What would you like?"
"Pancakes would be fine."
He nodded. "Rashid?"
"Yes, Master Quatre?" he asked, his stoic face filling the tiny video screen.
"Would you please bring two stacks of pancakes, with maple syrup, home fries and scrambled eggs, up to the hospital? I'll be eating breakfast here today."
Rashid nodded. "Do you want anything else? I could have Sahim bring you a change of clothes."
He shook his head and smiled. "Rashid, you spoil me too much. Just breakfast will do nicely."
"Do you want my special potatoes?" piped in Mohammed, one of the other Maguanacs.
"No...I don't think Catherine's up to food that spicy right now," Quatre said.
"Oh, okay. We'll have breakfast up soon."
"Thank you, Mohammed." That being said, Quatre closed the connection.
"Wow, you're pampered, huh?" asked Catherine.
Quatre laughed. "Well, it makes them happy. They were just hanging around after the war, so I hired them as my domestic staff."
"Oh. Um...just how spicy are those potatoes anyways?" she asked.
Quatre smiled. "Mohammed, my cook, has this special recipe that he says was handed down from many generations ago. Once we had Duo and Hilde over for dinner, and he served them the "special" potatoes. Hilde was fine; she said that she was used to spicy food, but Duo..."
"My ears are buzzing," said Duo, as he walked into the room with Hilde. "You talking about us, Q-man?"
Quatre winced a bit at the hideous nickname. "Oh, I was just telling Catherine about the spiced potatoes Mohammed fed you that one night."
"Oh, man! Don't get me started on those! I had to drink three pitchers of water to stop the burning!"
"Yeah," said Hilde, giggling. "The mighty Shingami can't hold his spuds!"
"C'mon, babe! Those potatoes were red-hot!"
Hilarious laugher erupted, and Quatre's laughter was so infectious that Catherine couldn't help but to join in. Soon, Rashid came with breakfast, which Quatre and Catherine happily ate. The friends talked for hours, and Quatre noted that Catherine was smiling, for real this time.
"Well, it's been real. We've got to go now," said Duo, looking at his pager.
"Yeah, that same jerk has to haggle about his paint job AGAIN," groaned Hilde.
"Bye. Thanks so much for coming," said Catherine.
"Anything for a friend," said Duo.
"Riiiight. You came for the cappuccino bar and you know it, mister."
"Baaaaabe!"
Quatre laughed at the couple's antics as they left the room.
"Quatre, aren't you leaving too?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine," he said, grinning.
An awkward moment passed between them, with Catherine staring down at her sheets that she had bunched up in her hands. A question, still half formed in her mind, escaped from her lips. "Why, Quatre?"
His eyebrows arched slightly. "Why what?"
"Why are you being so kind?"
He looked down, and Catherine felt that familiar guilt crawling up her neck. "Why? Because I know what it's like to be at the end of your rope, Catherine. I know what it's like to feel like you have blood on your hands. And because I made someone a promise, that I would look after his sister if anything happens," he said, his mouth forming a tight line.
After another awkward pause, Quatre started to leave. If she wanted to live in a state of self loathing, who was he to question it? He knew when he wasn't wanted, and Catherine obviously didn't want to be helped.
"Quatre?"
He turned around, his eyes beginning to water.
"Thanks," she said.
"You're welcome, Catherine" he said, somewhat gruffly, then he pivoted on his heel and began to walk away again.
"Can you do one more thing for me?"
"What's that?"
"Call me Cathy."
On Edge
by Lady Aishiteru
Email: Lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com
Website: http://www.100megspop2.com/ladya/ (It's under constant construction, though.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but whoever does is really lucky. Please do not sue me. I am a college student, therefore I am poor.
~*~Chapter 3~*~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Mr. Winner?"
"Huh?" said Quatre.
The nurse smiled. He looked handsome, even handsomer than the magazine pictures she had seen. His clothing was a bit rumpled and he had the beginnings of a blond beard forming along his no nonsense jawline. And, she noted, the articles were true. He does have kind eyes.
"I wanted to see if you wanted to take a rest or something. Say, my shift is just about over. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?"
Quatre smiled and shook his head. "No, thanks, I'm fine here."
The nurse nodded politely and began to walk away, but Quatre stopped her. "That coffee does sound good, though. Can you have someone bring me a cup?"
"Sure, it'll be along shortly."
"Thanks!" Quatre said, smiling a charming smile.
He ran his hands through his hair and stretched to get the kink out of his neck. 'Man, I must look awful,' he thought. 'Boy, if Rashid could see me now.' He pictured his servant fussing over his wrinkly clothes, yelling after the other Maguanacs to grab some shaving foam, leather and an old fashioned razor, not to mention his hair....
Truth be told, he didn't care that much for his looks. He only submitted to the pampering because it was what was expected of him, plus it made Rashid feel happy. After the war, he took on all forty Maguanacs as his servants, with Rashid in charge. It was strange at first, watching men who were used to piloting MS's polishing the silver and doing the wash, but it made them happy to be near Quatre, he mused as he realized that he was still holding Catherine's hand.
When had he taken her hand in his own, wondered Quatre. He opened his hand a bit to study the one he was holding. Quatre had always held a fascination with hands. He felt that hands told a lot about a person. His own were slender, yet held a kind of masculine beauty, even though he felt that they had been stained by too much blood during his time as a soldier. He wondered if she would feel that her hands were also stained, but to him, they conveyed a kind of delicate beauty.
"Mmmm...Quatre?" asked Catherine.
"Hey," said Quatre, stroking her hand in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Good morning."
She frowned. "Yeah, right."
"Come on, now. Frowning doesn't suit you," said Quatre.
She gave a weak imitation of a smile. "Better?"
"It's a start."
She took her hand and crossed her arms. "I suppose you're going to lecture me on taking better care of myself."
He shook his head. "No, I'm not here to judge you, Catherine."
"Oh?" she said, a bit of her old feistiness emerging. "Aren't you mad at me? Even a little?"
"Why would I be mad at you?" he asked.
"Because I killed your best friend," she said, turning her face away so he wouldn't see her cry.
Gently, Quatre drew her face towards Quatre and held it there, so they were making eye contact. "Catherine, nobody blames you for what happened. It was an accident."
She nodded, but she couldn't stop the steady trail of tears from flowing. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and her upper lip began to quiver.
"It's okay to cry. Let it out," he said.
She didn't need any further encouragement. Unable to hold in her emotions any longer, she released her anguish in pain wracked sobs, as Quatre let her head rest on his shoulder. He sat there like that for over an hour, patting her back, whispering words of comfort he had learned from his sisters.
Catherine lifted her head and gave a final sniffle. "Oh my God...your shirt! I ruined it! I'm so sorry," she said, pointing to the big wet spot on his shoulder.
Quatre put a finger to her lips. "You don't need to apologize. Let yourself grieve, Catherine. It's the first step towards feeling better. Now do you want some breakfast?"
She nodded.
"I'll have Rashid bring us some breakfast," he said, getting out his cell phone. "What would you like?"
"Pancakes would be fine."
He nodded. "Rashid?"
"Yes, Master Quatre?" he asked, his stoic face filling the tiny video screen.
"Would you please bring two stacks of pancakes, with maple syrup, home fries and scrambled eggs, up to the hospital? I'll be eating breakfast here today."
Rashid nodded. "Do you want anything else? I could have Sahim bring you a change of clothes."
He shook his head and smiled. "Rashid, you spoil me too much. Just breakfast will do nicely."
"Do you want my special potatoes?" piped in Mohammed, one of the other Maguanacs.
"No...I don't think Catherine's up to food that spicy right now," Quatre said.
"Oh, okay. We'll have breakfast up soon."
"Thank you, Mohammed." That being said, Quatre closed the connection.
"Wow, you're pampered, huh?" asked Catherine.
Quatre laughed. "Well, it makes them happy. They were just hanging around after the war, so I hired them as my domestic staff."
"Oh. Um...just how spicy are those potatoes anyways?" she asked.
Quatre smiled. "Mohammed, my cook, has this special recipe that he says was handed down from many generations ago. Once we had Duo and Hilde over for dinner, and he served them the "special" potatoes. Hilde was fine; she said that she was used to spicy food, but Duo..."
"My ears are buzzing," said Duo, as he walked into the room with Hilde. "You talking about us, Q-man?"
Quatre winced a bit at the hideous nickname. "Oh, I was just telling Catherine about the spiced potatoes Mohammed fed you that one night."
"Oh, man! Don't get me started on those! I had to drink three pitchers of water to stop the burning!"
"Yeah," said Hilde, giggling. "The mighty Shingami can't hold his spuds!"
"C'mon, babe! Those potatoes were red-hot!"
Hilarious laugher erupted, and Quatre's laughter was so infectious that Catherine couldn't help but to join in. Soon, Rashid came with breakfast, which Quatre and Catherine happily ate. The friends talked for hours, and Quatre noted that Catherine was smiling, for real this time.
"Well, it's been real. We've got to go now," said Duo, looking at his pager.
"Yeah, that same jerk has to haggle about his paint job AGAIN," groaned Hilde.
"Bye. Thanks so much for coming," said Catherine.
"Anything for a friend," said Duo.
"Riiiight. You came for the cappuccino bar and you know it, mister."
"Baaaaabe!"
Quatre laughed at the couple's antics as they left the room.
"Quatre, aren't you leaving too?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine," he said, grinning.
An awkward moment passed between them, with Catherine staring down at her sheets that she had bunched up in her hands. A question, still half formed in her mind, escaped from her lips. "Why, Quatre?"
His eyebrows arched slightly. "Why what?"
"Why are you being so kind?"
He looked down, and Catherine felt that familiar guilt crawling up her neck. "Why? Because I know what it's like to be at the end of your rope, Catherine. I know what it's like to feel like you have blood on your hands. And because I made someone a promise, that I would look after his sister if anything happens," he said, his mouth forming a tight line.
After another awkward pause, Quatre started to leave. If she wanted to live in a state of self loathing, who was he to question it? He knew when he wasn't wanted, and Catherine obviously didn't want to be helped.
"Quatre?"
He turned around, his eyes beginning to water.
"Thanks," she said.
"You're welcome, Catherine" he said, somewhat gruffly, then he pivoted on his heel and began to walk away again.
"Can you do one more thing for me?"
"What's that?"
"Call me Cathy."