Games We Play Five
By Chash
Dedicated to my Digital Pet for surviving so long in terrible conditions and the Escaflowne Movie because I worship it.
I have always believed that life will continue in the one rut it's in until someone does something about it. Most times, it won't change until you do something about it. Henry is in love with someone, and I keep trying to convince him that nothing will change until he says something. He says someone else will change it. It's impossible, though, to make others change your life. People are unpredictable, and who but yourself can for certain change the life you lead? I thought my life would continue the way it was. I liked my life the way it was, moving along in a uniform rut. Now, though, it's not in that rut anymore. Now it's been thrown into disarray. Of all the things I thought would jar my life from its normal course, a video game never even came close. Now, though, here I am, lying on the blurry ground inside a video game, watching as my own clone runs in to wreak havoc in my world. There is only one thing to say at this point.
"Trowa, how do I look?"
"What?" he asks.
"Do I look blurry like all of you?"
"Yes. You look just like he does, except for that hat."
"Shit."
"I see. Why do you ask?"
"If I look like he does here, then he'll look like I do there. That means he can pass for me. And that means I have to go back. I will rescue you all. I love you, Trowa."
"I love you too."
"Good luck, Quat," Duo breathes. I smile and step into the save point, feeling myself get sucked away.
I land outside the police office and see Quatre looking around in wonder. He's still wearing that outfit he had in the game, and I am relieved to see I am not and feel the hat on my head. It's getting late, probably around four, and I desperately want to go home and tell mom that I'm okay. I want to run into her arms and embrace her, sobbing like a child again as I spill out all that's worrying me. Now is the first time I can remember when I have regretted getting older. Funny what getting thrown out of the rut does to me.
He's still looking around, and I realize he doesn't know where I live. He can't. Although the inside could be clear, the rest is a mystery. I smile. What to do, though? It's not like I can run up and assault him outside the police station. Maybe I can reason with him. Except he'll run. He doesn't trust me, I know that much for sure. After all, he has no reason to trust me. None at all. I'm his enemy. Granted, an irrational enemy, but he still believes me an enemy. All because of Trowa. We think Trowa's worth it. Maybe he thinks Trowa's worth it. I know Trowa's worth it.
He's walking away now, towards my house. I walk after him, not too fast so as not to attract attention, his or the crowd's. There are fewer people now, and I smile. In a burst of speed, I run up behind him and catch his arms, locking him to me. Not quite the message I want to send, but it'll do.
"Look, I don't want to fight. I want to talk to you. Allah knows you don't trust me, though, so this is the only way," I tell him in a low voice.
"And of course you won't believe me if I say I won't run away," he says with a smile.
"Would you?"
"Of course not. I am you."
"We're not the same, Quatre."
"If we aren't the same then why don't you call me Yo?"
"I'm not used to it."
He laughs. "It doesn't sound right. You and I both know it. It sounds strange. My name is Quatre."
"Fine, it is. I know two people named Chris, though. They aren't the same. They aren't even the same gender. Still, they're both Chris."
"Are we here to debate names?"
"Would not a rose by any other name smell as sweetly?"
"Sure. Why not?" he sighs. "This won't get us anywhere. The matter is simple, we both want the pilots. We both want Trowa. We can't both have him."
"Yeah, I know. But… look, he did choose me. Sorry, but I don't think he loves you back," I say, feeling truly sorry. I don't want him to lose.
His shoulders slump and he sighs again. "Wouldn't you fight, though?"
"Not like this," I shake my head. "Think about it, making yourself their enemy is a pretty bad plan. He won't love you for that."
"No, I suppose not," the other Quatre concedes. "I just don't know what else to do… what's the point of two of us?"
"I don't know," I admit. "I don't know why there are two of us. I don't know how I got to your world in the first place, what the point of me there was. I don't know the point of any of this."
"Me neither. Where did you by the game?"
"Wal-mart."
"If you'll trust me," he says, looking down as if he knows I won't, "then we should go. Will you?"
I am silent a moment. On the one hand, I wouldn't lie in that situation. He doesn't know anything about where we are, not where my house is, who my friends are, nothing. All he can do is run. "I'll trust you." I release him.
"Good. Just remember, this is temporary. I'm not your friend, I'm your ally and I still want Trowa. Now, where's Wal-mart?" he asks, stretching his arms. I nod my head in the other direction.
"Down that way a little bit. Let's go."
Wal-mart is still open, thankfully, and Quatre and I stride in.
"In case anyone asks," I whisper, "we're twins."
"Makes sense. Who's Quatre?"
"Flip for it," I say, pulling a quarter. He nods. "Call it."
"Heads."
"It's tails. I'm Quatre."
"Guess I'm Yo, then. In case anyone asks."
"Right. Games are over here," I get a few odd stares, probably because they know me here, but Quatre and I can deal with it. The local Wal-mart does not have a stunning collection of games, but it's enough to keep me going. When I bought Wing, I found it between Final Fantasy IX and Tarzan. Now, instead of the shiny lettering of Wing, Pacman lies there. No sign of Wing. "This is where I got it," I point to the inanely grinning yellow thing. Quatre nods.
"Figures it isn't here. Do you have the box?"
"Yeah," I fish around in my bag and produce it. Quatre takes it and looks sad. "What?"
"I'm not even on the cover."
"They said you got enough screen time being the main character," I explain, not really believing it. "I guess… sorry."
"I guess I really don't matter."
"Come on, let's ask," I urge him. He nods, mute, and walks over to a bored looking employee playing with the cash register.
"Excuse me," he asks.
"Eh?" the employee responds eloquently.
"We bought this game here, how many days ago, Quat?"
"Uh… three."
"Three days ago and it's been… malfunctioning. Now we can't find the game on the shelves. Can you help?"
We have not selected the brightest crayon in the box. "You want to return a game?"
"No," I take over. "We wanted to replace this copy."
"Why?"
"It doesn't work."
"It doesn't?"
"Is there someone else we could talk to?" asks Quatre. The guy nods.
"Hey, Jess, some kids want some help!" he wanders off and a girl comes back in his place.
"Sorry about Jim, he's working on a six pack of beer and an hour of sleep," she explains. "How can I help?"
"We got a game here three days ago and it's not working right. We checked the shelves and it's not there. We wanted a replacement," Quatre explains.
She nods, grasping the concept much better than Jim did. "What game?"
Quatre hands her the case and she scratches her head.
"Wing?" she asks. We nod. "I've never heard of it."
"Yes, we haven't been able to find it anywhere," I tell her. "I don't know what happened, I can't even find a manufacturer on it."
She examines the game with the care an expert would take, fingering it as if it might break. After a little while, she returns to Quatre and I and smiles. "The style looks a lot like Dream. They're a local operation and we'll carry their games. The blurb on the back sounds a good deal like them and the casing is their quality. I can give you an address if you'd like to try them."
"Yes, thank you," we say at the same time. She smiles and jots something down.
"Here you go, good luck."
The Dream building is pretty large and a bored looking security guard is the only sign of life around it at five p.m. He gives a bored glance and then jolts up in alarm.
"Quatre?!" he asks, and I recognize Henry's voice.
"Hen? You work here?" I ask.
"Yeah… where'd you get a twin?" he inquired, looking at Quatre. Oh Allah, here's a conversation I didn't want to have… Quatre and I exchange glances, not sure what to do. Quatre breaks the silence at last.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Quatre's best friend. Who are you?"
"I'm a clone of Quatre who lived in his most recent video game until we five main characters gained sentience, one of them fell in love with Quatre, consequently the one I was in love with. Then Quatre and he decided they'd be very happy together, they didn't realize I was sentient, I got pretty pissed off and tried to kill them, but we've declared a truce trying to trace the origins of the game. The nice girl at Wal-mart told us to try here do here we are, happy?" Quatre smiles at the end of his swift explanation. Henry blinks.
"Did I hit my head really, really hard?"
"Not to my knowledge," I reply. He nods.
"Did you?"
"No."
"Right. Makes sense."
With that, he faints dead away.
Quatre and I, having finished out short debate about the pros and cons of telling Henry and the pros and cons of leaving him unconscious, ended up slapping Henry until he came back to life.
"Now you've hit your head really hard," Quatre supplies. I scowl at him. Henry groans.
"Okay… I wasn't dreaming…"
"Duh," my counterpart replies.
"You aren't helping, Quatre," I scowl again. He shrugs.
"Fine. I'll go ahead, get him on his feet and follow." Quatre takes off. Henry sits up and shakes his head.
"If I wasn't dreaming, then you are."
"Huh?"
"This isn't real, Quat, it can't be real. You and a video game clone in love with the same guy? Both of you in this world to get to the bottom of this? I probably don't even really work here, it's just a figment of your dream."
"It's real, Henry," I rise and look around. "Trowa's real. And I have to save them."
"Quat, it can't be real. You're dreaming. There's no point in trying to save dreams. You always wake up and they're always just dreams. You can't save them."
"Dreaming…" I murmur. "Dreaming, dreaming… I'm not dreaming. I'm not dreaming… It's a game, not a dream! It's not a dream!" I run off, Henry's cries falling to deaf ears.