I Dreamed of Angels [Part Four F]
This time he had gone too far. It wasn't just the throbbing pain in his backside that told him that. It was also the guilt that gnawed at him that reminded him and chided him for his disobedience.
Ms. Noin was not one to lay a hand on him but the last incident had been too much for her. He remembered the look on her face when he came down a little disheveled and a little tired. She had not suspected anything, being too furious to notice anything at that moment, but she was more than mad.
He'd been dragged home with Heero, Duo, and Wufei reprimanding him. He couldn't forget the grip Ms. Noin had on him when they dropped off each of his betrayed friends. She was so outraged that she lectured him right in front of the other children in the orphanage, her voice reaching great levels while her masked boyfriend tried to calm down the terrified and confused children.
Now he was back in his small, hard bed, lying on his stomach. He figured that he'd have to sleep that way for the next few days.
Although his body ached, he wasn't bothered by it that much. What bothered him the most was the thought of having betrayed everyone's trust. They all looked up to him, praised his as if he were some sort of divine being, incapable of wrongdoing. Not only did the last incident disappoint them, it had also brought down Trowa's standing with them as well.
A knock on his door brought him out of his quiet contemplation as he tried to clear his mind of dismal thoughts.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened a fraction to reveal the small figure of a girl hiding behind the wooden door. She seemed unsure whether to intrude on the person on the bed. Quatre welcomed her forward and offered for her to sit on his bed.
"Hi Quatre," she said. "Are you feeling better?"
"I am. Thank you very much. Do you need anything in particular?" he asked.
His voice was soft and comforting as he stroked the back of the teary-eyed girl.
"Quatre?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"Could I give you something?"
"Of course."
He wiped her tears off with his thumb and was surprised when the child suddenly jumped out of her position to retrieve the present. She ran out the door and when she returned, had a pair of angel wings constructed from scrap paper held on her chubby hands.
"I made this for you so you'll be happy again," she said.
"Thank you. It's very lovely," he responded and smiled in gratitude.
He laid the offered gift on the side table and gave the little girl a kiss on the cheek before he sent her down for breakfast. She smiled in response, blushed a bit, and obediently did as she was told. This left Quatre to mull over the subject matter that was continuing to bother him.
He picked up the present and read the fuzzy handwriting on it.
"To my guardian angel," it said.
"Oh great," he groaned. "I wonder who's putting these ideas in their head."
Despite the growing concern that he was being turned into this 'angel' figure, he was happy and completely flattered that the children thought of him as such. Although he was getting tired of the idea, he always enjoyed their innocent faith in him.
He looked at the present again and realized that he had to make room for his new angel wings, pair number twenty-three. It seemed like the children made a hobby off of making them.
"They look up to you," he remembered from yesterday's long lecture and sighed audibly.
"Do you know how they felt when they found out that their guardian angel left them for the devil himself."
Now he was sure that those crazy ideas had come from someone he knew too well. He just couldn't eliminate Ms. Noin's voice from his head and hid it under the pillow. He felt guilty enough and the voices were not helping.
"You are not to go near that demonic excuse for a boy again. I'm sure that the courts will have a grand time deciding his sentence."
He hit his head on the mattress over and over again. This time, he was sure that it was his error that had befallen them both. After all, it was him that had met with Trowa and not the other way around.
Then he remembered a sight he would never forget. He recalled the children clinging to him like a lifeline, pleading with him to stay with them. Some were so irrationally terrified that they cried and howled in absolute fear while the rest of his excuses for himself were forgotten.
"I am such an idiot," he said, his guilt reaching unhealthy levels.
He buried his face deeper in the pillows, knowing for certain that he deserved everything that was coming to him.
Just as he was going to chide himself further, he heard another knock on his door. There were just too many visitors disturbing him from his guilt session.
"Come in," he said in a muffled voice.
The door swung open and the very concerned and regretful Ms. Noin came running to him and picked him up, unaware of the still sore bruises he had from the day before.
"I am so sorry, Quatre," she said as she hugged him tight.
She rained kisses around his head in a desperate plea for forgiveness. It was apparent that she wasn't going to let the incident pass by without an understanding between the two of them. In truth, she had always chosen Quatre as her favorite ward, guilty of misleading parents into withdrawing their desire to adopt him more than once. Her fondness for him was more than obvious, showing just how much she thought of him as her own.
"I'm so sorry honey," she said again. "I just couldn't control myself last night. Seeing you in that scoundrel's house just enraged me too much to even think. Will you forgive me?"
He nodded and she hugged him again and ran circles around his back. The warm hand soothed his back and soothed his conscience as well. He felt better now that she was no longer angry with him but still couldn't eliminate the worry that passed over him whenever she mentioned anything about Trowa.
"Hey Zechs, Milliardo or whatever your name is today! " she suddenly screamed, the once sweetness of her voice replaced with one of eerie threat.
"Get your masked ass up here right now and bring Quatre his ice cream!"
Within seconds, her boyfriend was by the door with the requested treat in hand. He panted and gasped for air, looking like he ran a hundred-mile track.
"It's about time you got here," she said and took the cone from him, handing it to Quatre. The frightened boy took the treat willingly and consumed it without another word.
"You won't go back to that little demon, right Quatre?"
He simply nodded in response.
"Beside, he's going to get his spoiled little rear behind bars if it's the last thing I do."
Quatre tensed but did not dare speak.
"Now that's my favorite little angel boy," she said, patting his head.
Quatre sighed again, taking notice of the overused nickname that was beginning to annoy him.
It was minutes later before he realized that Ms. Noin's masked boyfriend was still around. True, everyone felt uneasy around the strange man's presence but Quatre had always found it soothing. It was strange that he did so since he was never given the chance to spend time with the mysterious man. For some reason, he felt safe, as if he was around someone familiar.
"Her anger management therapy's working better you know," he suddenly said in that same deep and soothing voice.
"Take care of yourself Quatre. Remember that there are consequences to giving in to that boy's dangerous obsession. He may mean well but sometimes, well-meaning deeds may be the most devastating to accept and the most risky to follow."
With that said, the masked man exited the door, leaving Quatre to contemplate on the meaningful advice that was more puzzling than helpful. He felt a spine-chilling fear at the remembrance of the words 'dangerous obsession', realizing that he'd received the same advice more than once. Perhaps he had to think about his relationship with Trowa and how that obsession of his could prove fatal.
Soon after the idea disturbed him, he heard Ms. Noin's voice again, disrupting his train of thought. It was too loud and frightening not to notice.
"You know why I keep having to go back to that shrink? It's because of you and your stupid obsession with that mask! What's with the 'not being worthy' and 'my hands are tainted with sin' excuse you've been using for the past ten years? It's about time I cracked that thing open and grind it to the tiniest pieces. Maybe then, we'd finally look decent in public together!"
Quatre snickered and almost dropped his ice cream. Now he was sure that is wasn't only Trowa who had some kind of obsession. He decided that he'd behave to relieve Ms. Noin of her troubles and find a different way to solve his dilemma. It was possible that doing so would prevent her from having to go back to the psychiatrist and at the same time allow her to ease up on her boyfriend.
After he consumed the rest of his ice cream, he picked up a fresh set of clothes to get ready for a shower. He felt better now but was still worried about Trowa's condition. He was sure that the other would be in trouble after being caught within three hundred feet of him. He blushed, remembering that they were a lot closer than three hundred feet that day. He wondered what Ms. Noin's reaction would be if she found out that they weren't even apart but decided to keep it a secret for the time being.
He also hoped that Trowa wouldn't make too much trouble, especially if he were in prison. It would only cause him more harm and not to mention give his father another headache. He entered the bathroom and hoped fervently that the other was just fine.
Just as Quatre had hoped, Trowa was doing just fine. He was at the head of a large table while his father's army of lawyers cowered at the sight of him. His eyes spoke of disaster and murder as he looked at the documents before him. He flipped through each page, noting important information and relevant details. When he was done, he put the papers down and regarded his minions.
"Report," was the only word he uttered before the grown men shuffled through their papers, each of them unwilling to answer the command.
"I said 'report'," he said again, addressing them calmly.
One of the lawyers finally found his voice.
"We're afraid that the judges cannot be paid off."
"How so?"
"The restraining order will be upheld. The distance of separation as well as the time it will be implemented will be lengthened unless they say otherwise."
"…and you have tried this?"
"With all of them from top to bottom, sir."
"I see."
Trowa looked down on the table and thought things over. For the first time in his life, he was unable to control the outcome of things. Nobody was able to grant his desires just when it concerned him the most. This was all new to him and it was frustrating him to the point of uncontrollable rage.
Nevertheless, he decided to stay calm if only to think clearly. He was unwilling to loose Quatre so soon and all hell would break loose if he did.
"They have also accused you of kidnapping."
"Kidnapping?"
The word 'kidnapping' brought him out of his reverie.
"Abduction, sir. Taking someone against their will."
"I know that you imbecile! I know what kidnapping means!"
He realized then that luring Quatre to a black van filled with cups of chocolate ice cream was a bad idea. It just seemed too irresistible at that time. He remembered sticking a pair of wings to the other's back as he admired the beaming boy partake of the delicious treat. He brought him home right after and shared his collection of toys. He didn't remember Quatre protesting and was sure that bringing the boy home didn't mean that he was abducting him.
"For crying out loud!" he screamed. "I was only eight! It wasn't like I was going to hold him for ransom or anything. This is insane!"
"Umm, you've done it more than a dozen times sir."
"What can I say? He loves chocolate ice cream and for the last time, I was eight freaking years old!"
He was starting to loose his temper but tried to gain some control on himself. He took deep breaths and decided that terrifying the already jittery lawyers would only make the time to manage the problem longer. He repeated the process over and over again and did not pay attention to the curious looks on his companions' faces.
"How about your father, Trowa?"
The voice was filled with concern and apparent respect for the older man.
"Oh, him," Trowa said, still trying to clam himself down. "I've decided to give him a break."
"A break, sir?"
"Yes, a well-deserved break."
Somewhere in the south of town, Mr. Barton was singing heartily behind the metal bars that confined him. His face radiated with glee and incomparable bliss as he repeated the lines to a long forgotten nursery rhyme.
"Shut your yapping," one of his irritated companions said.
"What's his problem?" another asked.
"Me? I don't have a problem. My dear boys, I've actually gotten rid of a problem and that's the reason why I'm celebrating."
Mr. Barton seemed more insane than criminal.
"Hey, I know you!"
"It's that rich Barton fellow!"
"Barton."
The room fell silent. Mr. Barton assumed this as a sign of an imminent attack and cowered in the corner. He waited for the beating and the probable bloodshed but was surprised when none of that came. When he opened his eyes, he felt more troubled at the sight before him. His presumed enemies were looking at him like he was a lost puppy.
"Aww, man. I feel for you. We feel for you," one of the men said.
"Is your son as bad as they say he is?"
Mr. Barton nodded. He was still unsure of their motives.
"Well then, Barton, welcome to paradise!"
After that, nothing more could be heard from the town's jail but booming laughter and songs of cheer from multitudes of celebrating men.