Winding Down the Day
Stephanie
November 12, 2001
Part 7
Trowa and Heero took to traveling after that day in July. Trowa finally hired a manager and several assistants to look after the café. With the lightened burden, both he and Catherine spent less and less time on the daily operations of the business. For the first time in their lives, they did not have to work.
With his newly acquired free time, Trowa decided he would like to travel. He had already seen most of the world, but that was in wartime. He wished to see those places again and what they looked like after two decades of peace. Heero more than obliged him, for Trowa confided to me in a letter that no sooner had he mentioned that he would like to get out of New Orleans for a time, than did Heero present him with a trip ticket for two months in Europe. And that was only the beginning. They would return home for a month and take off again the next to Russia, Alaska, Egypt and India. They stayed in Japan for half a year, and Heero studied the art of Japanese calligraphy of all things. And then they would go to Brazil and stay just as long, because Trowa loved that dialect of Portuguese.
The two were joined together in a way they had never previously allowed themselves to be, and they did not seem to mind what the rest of the world thought about it. Something had been transformed in both of them and they embraced this change with open arms. Though outwardly they were still more quiet and reserved than Duo, Wufei and myself, it was merely their nature and not some sort of repression they could have been accused of years before. They sat closer together in public places, not caring if one leaned against the other a little or placed a hand on a knee. Occasionally at night, they would hold hands. You could tell when they looked into each other's eyes that there were no secrets kept between them and no desire left unfulfilled. They were completely in love and inseparable.
If we wanted to see them now and hold our reunions as we typically did about three times a year, we had to track them down first. It wasn't an easy task keeping up with them from the colonies, so Duo and Wufei took on the responsibility of tracking them. In those days latter days, we almost never met in New Orleans. While it was a nice change of pace, I must admit that at times I missed meeting in that little café where our peacetime friendship began.
At times, however, they were impossible to find, as they jumped from one place to the next, usually on a whim, each taking nothing more than a backpack and not even Heero's most prized laptop - or his pocket computers for that matter. I was nervous for Trowa then. He had the multiple sclerosis to consider, and even if it was mild case and all under control, it worried me that he was pushing his limits with the constant travel. But then I knew Heero would never let any harm come to him, and Trowa himself was very practical all things considered. Still, I worried, and pressed Wufei when after a month they had not turned up - the only sign that they were still even on Earth came in the form of enigmatic postcards to Catherine to let her know that they were fine and should be home by Christmas.
After an entire season of failure in his search, Wufei finally just sent a message extending an open invitation to them to visit him in China whenever they could make it. "They're adults," he said. "And more than that they were Gundam pilots. They'll turn up when they begin to wonder who's bailing Duo out of prison while they're away. You're always in the colonies and they know I won't." But a month later he reeled in the exhausted travelers, who claimed they had only recently received the invitation. When they finally reached Tripoli, Heero checked his mail at a cybercafé. They told him that they had begun their journey through central Africa and gradually made their way up to the Mediterranean. The day after finding Wufei's mail, they bought a ticket and headed to Beijing.
I think Wufei always believed they had purposely evaded him, as he never quite accepted their story that Heero had left even his pocket computer behind. "And what if there was an emergency? What if there was a death?" Both replied that they would have known if something important happened, though neither bothered elaborating how and thus only fed Wufei's skepticism.
But Wufei extended to them every hospitality and insisted that make themselves at home in his estate. They were to stay and recuperate as long as they liked, which they took him up on as they remained with him in Beijing for nearly six weeks. They left in mid December to keep their promise to Catherine that they would return to New Orleans for Christmas.
During their stay in China, Duo and I made arrangements to visit for a week.
We arrived together at Wufei's estate, which was simply the most gorgeous place on Earth I had ever visited. The main house was traditional in architecture. Five pagodas seeming to reach upward to the heavens, like the mosques and byzantine churches of old. In the back he had a garden of Ginkgo trees and bamboo, and countless other flowers and plants I didn't know the names of, but were nonetheless beautiful. There were stone and wood carvings of Chinese lions and dragons, and at the center of the garden stood a statue of the great Chinese master, Confucius.
I could understand why Heero and Trowa wanted to stay.
"Hey, thought ya could ditch us did ya?" Duo announced as soon as he walked though the door in a thunderous voice. Even if they hadn't all gathered at the door, they would have heard him.
"Get in here and shut up," Wufei said, slamming the door behind us. "Must you make a scene everywhere you go?"
"I'm not making a scene, Chang my boy." Duo looked around and whistled. "My, isn't this place posh. Looks like you made it in high society. I feel all Gatsby like, except, you know, we're in China."
Wufei glanced at Duo for a moment and then turned to me. "Let me take your coat, Quatre, and then I'll show you to your room."
"You're not going to take my coat?" Duo asked in amazement, though they played the same game whenever they met.
"No," he said. I handed Wufei my coat and then turned to Duo and shrugged. Trowa and Heero stood off to the side, not intruding on the normal ritual that took place whenever Duo and Wufei got together.
"Well, Duo is right about one thing," I said glancing at the two travelers, "you two certainly did a good job avoiding us the past few months."
Heero shrugged. "We're here now."
"Yeah, yeah," Duo waved him off. "But we thought you might be dead in some savage's cooking pot or something. You could have dropped us a note!"
"Some savage's cooking pot?" Wufei rolled his eyes. "I thought your political conscious-mindedness prevented you from using such imperialist terms."
"Lighten up man! It was just a joke!" Duo shook his head and jerked his thumb at Wufei. "Do you get this guy?"
"We didn't have the chance," Trowa replied, ignoring both Wufei and Duo to answer me. He looked at Heero and smiled. "We were . . . occupied. It was only a few months. We wanted to get away from everything."
"Well, yes, I can understand that." I smiled back at him. He looked thinner than the last time I saw him, but then, so did Heero. His skin was a golden bronze, however, and he looked radiant. He must have spent a lot of time in the sun. Heero still looked white and if I hadn't known better, I wouldn't have suspected he was even on the same continent as Trowa. But it was just sun-block. Heero, like many colonists, believed that the sun was a giant flaming ball of cancer waiting to happen. It must have unnerved him greatly to see Trowa throw such caution to the wind. But Trowa was born on Earth and didn't have the same hangups.
After Wufei had hung up our coats and showed us to our rooms, we gathered in his sitting room to talk until it was time for dinner. We all caught up on what we were doing now and Heero and Trowa filled us in on their trip to Africa. Duo showed us pictures of his last art show in Milan, and the protesters picketing the jail after his arrest.
Wufei thumbed through the pictures and then glared at Duo. "Why do these protestors follow you anyway? Do you pay them? And what the hell is this sign I always see? 'The last war virgin'?"
Duo blinked. "No, I don't pay them," he snapped. "They love me all on their own! And what do you mean you don't know what that sign means? It's perfectly obvious. Tell him, Quatre."
Everyone turned to me and I looked back to Duo with my mouth open. "Uh . . . well . . . I don't really know." I replied. I thought it was just a silly sign they carried around, more out of nostalgia than any real reason.
Duo made a 'tsk' sound and turned to Trowa. "Well, then you tell them. You always understood me."
Trowa shrugged. "I always thought it was one of those inane Americanisms I never bothered to learn."
Duo narrowed his eyes on Trowa. "I forgot. You hail from euro trash. Excuse me, Mr. 'Friend-of-Genet,'" He waved his hand in the air making a gesture of grandiose, "I'll not bother you now with my lowly American ass."
"It's a socio-political statement on war." Heero announced. We all then turned to him and waited for his explanation. "While the majority of people were prostituting themselves to the faction that would most likely protect them, you remained true to your cause and fought for the colonies, even when they deserted you. Thus you maintained your 'purity', while the rest of the world fell from grace. Though I'm not sure why you are the 'last' war virgin while the four of us remain alive."
"Hey!" Duo's eyes brightened. "That's exactly right! How did you know that, Heero?" He ignored the last part of Heero's statement, seeming too impressed that Heero was the only one of us to 'get it.'
"It was just a guess," Heero said.
"Well," Duo said as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "I'm starved. Anyone up for dinner?"
"I think . . . I need to excuse myself tonight," Trowa said. "I'm . . . feeling tired. If you don't mind, I will say goodnight now and see you in the morning."
Heero remained seated for a moment and watched Trowa. When he didn't move to get up, Heero stood, walked over to him and helped him to stand. We were all alarmed at this, as Trowa never displayed this sort of need before. But we didn't dare say anything to embarrass him. We merely spoke our goodnights and let Heero take care of him. "I'll be down in a few minutes," Heero said with a nod. And then he slowly lead Trowa to their room.
Wufei watched them leave and then turned back to us. He was worried, and when they were out of earshot, he told us so. Though Heero seemed to recover from his travels after a day of uninterrupted rest, Trowa seemed to have slowed down considerably. "He sometimes will sleep till noon. He doesn't walk at the brisk pace like he used to. All his movements seem slower, and sometimes he doesn't seem to be paying attention. I've had to repeat myself several times."
"Well, maybe he's still dazed from that whirlwind trip," Duo said. "The poor guy never had a chance to catch his breath. You know Heero, he's a superhuman! He doesn't always remember the rest of us are mere mortals. Besides, most of us never pay attention to you when you talk either, Wufei," he quipped, but we both knew Duo by now. He was worried too and he was trying to comfort himself. Wufei didn't even bother arguing with him.
"I'll talk to him," I said. "Maybe he is just tired. Sometimes his joints ache or the neuralgia gets to him. He's probably still stiff and sore from the traveling. He'll be fine." But Wufei and Duo knew I was just comforting myself as well.
When Heero returned we went to dinner, minus one from our group.
The next morning I asked Heero if Trowa was feeling better and if it would be alright for me to talk with him.
"He's still in bed," he told me, "but he'll probably see you. Just knock first."
"Thank you." I smiled, then turned to head toward the room.
"Quatre," he said, catching me before I disappeared from view. "Don't keep him too long."
"No," I assured him. "I won't.
I knocked on the door and heard the muffled voice of Trowa on the other side telling me to enter. He was reclining on the bed, propped up with pillows that Heero had undoubtedly arranged to his comfort and he was reading the leather bound journal that he received in New Orleans. He set it down immediately as I entered.
"I'm sorry I could not make it to dinner last night," he immediately apologized for his absence. "I was fine the day before, it just came on me suddenly."
"Please, don't worry about that," I said waving it off. I was far more concerned about his condition than altered dinner plans. I wouldn't go as far as to say he appeared frail, in fact he looked rather well, but there was an obvious strain in his eyes that betrayed his exhaustion. And it was the first time Trowa had ever allowed any of us to see him laid up in bed. This meant that he truly couldn't get up and walk around, and that scared me. He couldn't hide it if he wanted to, so he didn't even try. While part of me was glad he wasn't pushing himself to remain the stoic Trowa Barton, another part of me wanted to see him get up and do flips around the room, like I remember from his youth in the circus. Those days were so long past even then, but I remembered them and wondered where all the time had gone.
"It doesn't happen too often," he said, as though reading my fears and attempting to settle them. "It just flares up occasionally, and I have to stop and rest for a little while. I'll be fine again in a few days."
"This traveling, Trowa . . . did this . . . were you sick when--"
"No," he cut me off and shook his head. "It flared up a few times, but we would stop and spend a few days wherever we happened to be. I was no less comfortable there than I am here. So stop worrying." It was an order, and I think he would have been truly upset with me if I continued to worry in his presence. He knew I would as soon as I left the room, which I did, but he would be contented if I dropped the matter while I sat with him. Trowa hated being a spectacle unless he was performing, and it had been nearly twenty years since he had last performed.
"I'm not worrying. I'm just . . . concerned." I said.
He laughed. "I'm pretty sure those are the same things, Quatre." I could tell he was trying not to laugh too hard because of the neuralgia. I worried about that to, but I tried not to let it show.
"No, they're not. They're completely different," I insisted. Not that he would be convinced. "They're totally different words. Worried implies the wringing of hands and heart palpitations, and . . . distress. But I'm just concerned. That's just like . . . raising an eyebrow. Totally different levels."
"If you say so." Trowa shrugged. But I amused him. I always had. More so than Duo, I think. "You know, between your innocence and your proclivity toward overwork and worrying, you're bound to drop dead of a heart attack from either shock or stress overload." He shook his head slightly and there was an attempt to raise his eyebrow, but the neuralgia prevented him from really doing so. It didn't stop him from trying though. His sense of humor was often twisted and a little morbid, but at least he had one. Wufei didn't. He always took himself very seriously, and couldn't stand the thought of anyone being amused at his expense. Heero understood the concept, but was never quite sure of when he was in its presence. Duo, of course, stood on the opposite end of Wufei and Heero. He would have shot back a jibe probably exceeding the level Trowa dished out.
I was somewhere in the middle, so I didn't take offense, but rather laughed in return. "I suppose I probably will. But I can't help it. I'm sorry."
"You're just Quatre, "he said, and he smiled at me, and it was a genuine and warm smile, but at the same time he looked so tired. "I have a good life, Quatre," he said suddenly, and I suppose he once again caught the worry in me. "I never dreamed it could be like this when I was young. I really thought I would die, and that suited me then. But after the wars, things changed. Despite my illness, I'm very grateful for this reprieve. You've been so much a part of that. Thank you. For all you've done."
I shook my head, not believing that I had much of a role in any of it. "No. . . Catherine and Heero. They are the ones you should thank. What have I done?"
"The café, Quatre. And so much more." He looked at me and blinked, as though he could not believe I didn't know any of this. "Don't you see?" I tried to interrupt, but he kept on going, not allowing me to speak and seeming to know what I was going to say. "It wasn't just the money. There was more. You were angry with me . . . For not going to your wedding, for keeping my distance. And you had a right to be upset. When I finally did come to you, it was for money. You gave it without hesitation, even though I could tell you were still angry. You tried not to show it, but I could tell. You're full of such unconditional love, you won't even let justified anger stand in the way of it. It always made life easier to think that someone like you exists." He stopped for a moment and took a few shallow breaths. One long one would cause too many muscle movements in his face, and I could tell by watching his slightest gestures that he had learned to minimize the pain the best he could. "I wanted to draw you back into my life. But not partially. Not so that we would only see each other every so many years. I wanted your more permanent presence. A connection. When Catherine mentioned her dream of running her own business, I knew I found a way to do that."
I sat back on the bed, stunned by the words he told me. I had never thought he had come to my colony on L4 to visit me that day for my mere continual friendship. I knew it went beyond just asking for money, Trowa wasn't like that, but to hear his word as he spoke them that day made my heart nearly stop. Of all the years that I have lived, all the days I had mourned the lives of the people I had killed during the war and on the colony I attacked, nothing brought me so close to forgiving myself than to hear Trowa say it made his life easier to know I existed. That I made one life easier did not justify what I had done, but it helped me to reconcile myself with the past.
"It's been an odd day, hasn't it?" he said, changing the subject, as no doubt the look on my face must have scared him into believing he had indeed managed to shock me and I might die of heart failure.
"Odd day?" I shook my head, not sure of his meaning. "How so?"
"This life," he clarified. "It sometimes feels like it's been one long day that's finally winding down and at the point where I can finally look at the sunset and make sense of it . . . enjoy it . . . It's like I can suddenly see the larger picture and understand why it started off so bad. We spent the morning rushing and trying to put things in order the best we could, so that now we could relax before the sun falls."
"Winding down the day . . . I don't know," I said. I looked at him for a moment. There was a tightness in my chest and a sense of foreboding. "That sounds like an end is approaching. I'd like to think we have a while to go yet."
"We do," Trowa smiled again for me. "It's just dusk. There's still plenty of night for us."
I leaned over the bed and kissed him softly. I'm not sure why, I simply felt a need and desire to do so. He looked so peaceful and content, and I found myself in love with him then. I kissed him again, more insistent, more urgent, more filled with passion than could be explained away by the first innocent and chaste kiss. He never protested, only parted his lips, allowing me in. When we broke apart naturally after the moment had passed, he leaned back against his pillow, looking up at me with half-closed eyes. "If anything more happened, you'd hate yourself later," he said. And I knew it was true. I would feel guilt over betraying my wife and Heero, both of whom I loved dearly. Though I could not deny that I loved Trowa, and always had. I think I knew from the moment he walked out of his Gundam and surrendered to me all those years ago. But we can't have everything and we make choices, and I have been happy and satisfied with my life, just as I know Trowa was happy and satisfied with his. I do not regret that kiss, however, nor would I take it back if I had the chance. There was something sacred in it, something I dare not go beyond, but beheld with wonder and a little bit of fear.
"Would you, Trowa? Would you hate yourself too?" I asked.
But he only smiled and took my hand in his. A few minutes later he was sleeping.
