She was accustomed to people getting mad at her. She was a kid, after all. People yelled at her, and then she did what she was told most of the time. But this wasn't mad. This was something much more painful. Master Quatre hadn't *begun* yelling yet, and she was already broken by his simple glare. Her eyes grew misty with confusion... it was okay when she got in trouble 'cause usually she knew what she was doing wrong, but now she didn't understand. 'I'm too big to cry. Don't let Master Quatre see me cry,' she mentally repeated to herself over and over... she then noted her hands on Master Trowa. Master Quatre's Master Trowa. She sharply took her hands back, wringing them around one another till her knuckles were white, bowing her head deeply, her face and shoulders drowning in her hair.
Trowa noticed her pulling away as much as he noticed her coming... he didn't. He, too, was lost in Quatre's accusing gaze. A faint thought reached the forefront of his mind to reach out to him... to embrace him the way he had neglected to the night before. But Quatre was beyond touching now. He had a maddened glint in his eye. The usual look that was in Heero or Duo's eyes when they were about to blow something up. The idea actually wasn't that impossible. Very unnerving.
Quatre's thoughts were bouncing off the walls of his skull. He wasn't sure if he was capable of speech at this point, let alone yelling. He didn't see her at all, just that someone was there, touching... consoling Trowa, and damned if it was him. It couldn't be. He was standing there ready to shoot something. Who did this bitch think she was? Trowa belongs to Quatre. Quatre belongs to Trowa. It's just one of those things you DON'T fuck with. So where does this little...only a mere glance at her clothing pointed her out to be a servant girl, he had taken the brief mental note...where does this servant girl decide that she has some right to touch Trowa?! Now, had it been about anything else... like the end of the world, he wouldn't have overreacted. But this was –
"TROWA--!" the only word Quatre could possibly form. It strung a high note, that shattered the air... not to mention a couple ear drums. Quatre's mouth was now on auto-pilot. It would seem when he is upset, he tends to exhibit traits of fellow long-haired gundam pilots, "Answer me, what the HELL is going on here?!"
He didn't say anything in fear of giving the wrong answer. Trowa just stared. What did Quatre want to hear? 'Oh, I'm sorry I didn't see you there, I was too busy mistaking a little girl for you.' So he remained silent for the time being as to not sign his death warrant. Everything about this situation spelled pain. It hurt Trowa to have hurt Quatre... It hurt to see Quatre this way... It hurt to be sitting there stationary for the long agonizing seconds that strewn on between Quatre's words. Trowa's features blanched when Quatre spoke again... however, he was not addressing him.
"Dismissed," Quatre didn't bother to look at her. Why should he? That hussy. Didn't she understand anything? ANYTHING at all? Hadn't he been a caring and kind master all these fifteen years and counting? Had his family not taken care of each and every servant as if they were family? WHY then was this... little speck of humanity rebelling against such tradition. It was unheard of. His gaze was cold set into Trowa's, and he dismissed her with a flick of his wrist and a half gesture of his head. He saw her bow at the waist to him and thought, 'Good. You don't belong here, tramp. Get out of my sight.' His face twisting as if to look at her would make his face grow greener than the eyes he stared down.
Only she had noticed he'd said it aloud. Trowa was clouded and impaled on a crystalline glare... Quatre inflicting such a stab to dull his own pain. Her tears dripped down her face unnoticed... as her feet moved beneath her with no recognition of ever telling them to walk, let alone run. She did her best to come out of view of him, quickly... her servitude to Quatre always coming before herself. She was so ungrateful to the Winner family. Trying to imagine what Quatre saw twisted her stomach... she curled up in a ball at the base of a large tree behind the servants quarters. Her body instinctively started rocking to calm herself as her tears flowed, with an unchanging face. The eyes of the broken hearted child had gone blank and dazed... and she sat there. Until after the sun went down, and the moon was high. In the still of the night, huddled next to a dying tree, was a forgotten child.
*~end of flashback~*