I Dreamed of Angels
Part Four
B
Quatre tripped
over a rock and fell face first on the muddy ground beneath him. He picked
himself up only to slip back into the same position. With one last try, he
steadied his hands and hoisted himself up with the mud still clinging to his
clothes. He continued walking despite his disposition and trudged along insect
infested pathways, every once in a while getting hit on the head by protruding
branches. He scraped his arm on some thorny bushes, cursed himself for not
watching where he was going and brushed his ankles on some poison ivy. After an
hour and a half of walking around in circles, he spotted a clearing not far.
Finally reaching his destination, he
checked his watch and flopped down on a picnic blanket, an angry glare directed
at the figure that lay carelessly on the ground.
"So what did you call me for?" he asked.
"Oh nothing." the figure said while
reaching for a sandwich with one hand and grabbing a handful of potato chips
with the other. "Can't we just hang out? You know, eat and talk and..."
"Duo, that's probably not what he had in
mind."
Heero, who appeared from behind the rich
shrubbery, looked at Quatre's muddy appearance and retrieved a towel from one
of the bags off to the side. He flung the clean towel towards Quatre and
regarded him with a disapproving look.
"Quatre," he said. "You're getting too
clumsy."
"No, I'm not!" he protested while wiping
himself off. The incessant wiping did nothing but worsen his condition and soil
the towel as well.
"It's just that the meeting places you
choose happen to be in the middle of nowhere."
"Exactly where we want you. As far away
from that brat as possible."
Quatre whirled around and looked up to the
figure that was perched on the tree.
"You mean Trowa? " Quatre asked, his eyes
fixated on the sturdy branch that held the proud and commanding form of Wufei.
"Whatever his name is. I agree with Heero.
You better be careful, especially when we're not around."
Quatre laughed heartily and finally gave up
on cleaning himself. At least he was able to get the mud off his face.
"Oh, I get it." he said between laughs.
"This is some sort of friendly intervention. You're trying to warn me about
Trowa, the usual 'stay away from him' lecture."
Duo sat up from his position and decided to
join in.
"You're laughing now but wait 'till a
helicopter appears out of nowhere and snatches you up. He's really tricky, you
know. Even with that restraining order, he's still gonna come after you."
"That's right." Heero interjected. "He's
also a bad influence on you. You better
stay away from him if you don't want to get hurt."
"Yes mom." Quatre answered, fighting the
urge to laugh off his friends' concern.
"We're serious Quatre," Wufei spoke up
again. "Be careful about his dangerous obsession or you will both regret having
played out those roles. That false fantasy will only prove to be your
downfall."
Those were the last words Quatre remembered
as he made his way back to the orphanage, his home for as long as he could
remember.
He entered a building and walked up a
narrow stairway. He greeted several children who clung to him like leeches,
told Ms. Noin that he was going to bed, explained why he was filthy and finally
step foot in his cozy room. He opened the dresser, choosing a fresh set of
clothes and decided that he'd best take a shower before going to bed.
On his way to the bathroom, the phone rang
and it was only then that he remembered that Trowa was going to call that
night. He ran for the phone and hoped that Ms. Noin wouldn't answer it from the
other line.
"Hello." he said.
"Hello, Angel. Miss me? I knew you would!
Anyway, I told my dad about our little problem and told him to call up some
lawyers. Those pitiful incompetents told me that it'll be at least a week
before they can fix things up. I can't believe it! So, until then, I'll just
call you on the phone every night like I'm doing now or maybe I'll sneak into
you place and..."
"Trowa." Quatre cut in. "I need to take a
quick shower. I'll call you back in a few minutes, ok?"
"Ok, Angel. I'll be waiting."
"Oh, and Trowa..."
"Yes, Angel?"
"The name's Quatre, not Angel."
Quatre shut the phone and hurried off into
the bathroom, still thinking about what Wufei said about dangerous obsessions.
The minutes passed by painfully slow as
Trowa sat with his eyes glued to the phone. He'd already eaten dinner, pestered
the servants, given his father another complimentary migraine and yet, the
phone hadn't rang.
"How long are showers supposed to take?" he
asked nobody in particular.
When his patience finally reached its
limit, he picked up the phone and dialed Quatre's number.
"Hello." said the person on the other line.
"Good evening ma'am," he said in return, hoping
that his voice wouldn't be recognized. "Is Quatre there by any chance?"
"I'm sorry young man but he went to bed a
few minutes ago. Who may I ask is calling?"
"Umm, no you may not."
Trowa started to get nervous.
"Hold on." Ms. Noin said from the other
line, suspicion evident in her voice. "I know you. Trowa? Trowa Barton? Why you
little sneak! You stay away from Quatre, you hear me? If I find you anywhere
near him I'll make sure the cops haul your ass..."
Trowa immediately closed the phone and
flinched. He didn't know that Ms. Noin's voice could be that loud and
intimidating.
"Phew." he said while wiping off the sweat
that was forming on his forehead. "Never catch that woman in a foul mood!"
Trowa was surprised to hear laughter as the
response. Quatre was standing by the door and hidden by the shadows. He was
trying to control himself.
"...and they say nobody can scare off Trowa
Barton."
Trowa smirked at the laughing boy and
offered him a chair.
"I thought sweet 'lil Quatre was sleeping.
So, what brings you here, Angel?"
Instead of answering, Quatre chose instead
to lay down on the soft bed with his chin on his palms, his face propped up by
his elbows. Trowa took a seat on the chair and observed him.
"Your father was bribing me again." Quatre
finally said while cuddling the soft mattress and blankets, something he wasn't
accustomed to.
"How much did he offer this time?"
"Three times as much as the last offer."
"...and you answered?"
"No, of course. He can't buy me off! Why's
he trying to convince me to live here anyway?"
"Ah." Trowa said, rubbing his hands
together and then crossed his arms.
"Dear old papa." he said. "He's just trying
to give me what I want."
In the room downstairs, Mr. Barton was seated
on a sofa, being accompanied by the maid, the laundry woman, and the chauffer
who were also comfortably seated on different chairs.
"That boy will kill me one of these days!"
Mr. Barton exclaimed while massaging his throbbing head.
"Calm down sir." the laundry woman said.
"Remember, he's still young. He'll grow out of it."
"That's what you've been saying for the
last ten years and that's what I've been holding on to for so long!" he
answered. "I'm telling you, that boy was sent to me as some sort of
punishment." He sighed and slumped down on the chair. A few minutes of silence
followed the remark.
"You know what?" he finally said again
after thinking too deeply. "I have some suspicion that he's the devil himself."
he added in a whisper.
Nobody refuted the statement as all heads
present nodded. The conversation went on until the late hours of the night with
numerous servants coming in one by one, seating themselves on the plush carpet
Mr. Barton now occupied. He was in his pajamas with a blanket in one hand.
They drank hot chocolate, chewed on some
brownies the chef had prepared for the occasion and gossiped about the boy
upstairs who would surely cause them greater misery if they were ever caught.
This was their only form of therapy and it definitely cost a lot less than
visiting a psychiatrist.
Suddenly, the walls vibrated as the sounds
of manic laughter filled the house. This time, however, it was accompanied by a
second voice that was melodious and sweet. For some strange reason, the
contrast proved harmonic and complementary.