By West Wind
Rating: PG
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.
I sit in one of the reclining lawn chairs with notebook and pen in hand while I watch Quatre romp around the yard with Sandrock. The light brown puppy had been a departing gift to Quatre from Neena. Neena thought Quatre needed something to take his mind off of work. The two have been playing for the last fifteen minutes or so and covered every inch of the yard doing it. They are fun to watch.
Sandrock is having a blast playing. Quatre pulls out a tennis ball and tosses it.
"Go get it!" he commands.
Sandrock is off almost before the ball is released. She zigzags across the grass as the ball hits a clump of grass and is bounced in a new direction. She overshoots the ball's resting-place before she scoops it up in her mouth to return it to her master.
They repeat the process, and I return to my writing.
The sound of the ball bouncing on stone pulls me from my sentence, and I know I am in trouble as the wayward ball bounces into my lap. Sandrock quickly follows. She has forgotten the ball, and I have become the object of her attention. I squirm as she licks my face enthusiastically. One would think she was greeting a long lost friend and not someone who petted her less than an hour ago as she joyfully assaults me. I try to get her calmed down.
Quatre comes to my rescue. He pulls the ever-growing pup off me and gets her attention with a tug rope.
"Are you O.K?" he asks me.
"I'm fine," I laugh as I wipe dog drool off my face with my sleeve.
"Here," says Quatre offering me his handkerchief.
I accept and continue the drying off process.
"I guess I got her a bit too wound up," he says as Sandrock pulls at the rope he holds.
"No damage done," I assure as I organize my papers that I was writing on.
"What are you working on?" Quatre asks as he sits in a chair beside me.
Sandrock lays down at his feet and chews on the rope held between her front paws.
"Oh… I am just writing," I shrug off.
"What are you writing?"
I blush slightly before answering.
"I might sound silly, but I have been working on my life story," I admit.
"It does not sound silly to me," he says encouragingly. "How far are you?"
"That is hard to say," I explain. "I just pick sections of my life and start writing about it. There is not a real rhyme or reason to it."
"How long have you been working on it?"
"I started between leaving the circus and getting my job here," I divulge. "It was something to do with all my free time that I did not fill with physical activity. I found I like it," I shrug.
"We all should have a hobby," he encourages.
"What's yours?" I ask knowing how busy he is.
"I have a few," he admits. "I use Origami to occupy me between meetings."
I lightly laugh as he takes a piece of paper from me and turns it into a bird.
"We all have secret talents don't we," I point out.
"That we do," he agrees.
He stands to leave but pauses.
"May I read what you have written so far?" he asks.
I hesitate for a moment before answering.
"If you really want to, you may," I slowly respond. "I can get it from my room."
"I'll just stop by sometime, and you can give it to me then," he says before leaving with Sandrock at his heels.
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I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around me and move into my room. It has been a long day and the shower helped me to unwind. I start putting lotion on when there is a nock at my door. I hurriedly slip on my robe and secure it shut on my way to the door.
"Coming," I call unsure if the person on the other side can hear me.
"Quatre!" I exclaim shocked to see him there.
"Sorry to interrupt you," he says slightly embarrassed as he takes in my appearance.
I am sure I was a mess to look at with no makeup and wet drooping curls.
"Here for the autobiography?" I ask knowing the answer as I usher him in.
"Yes," he confirms.
I gather up the several volumes with the handwritten history in it and hand them to him.
"I'll warn you now that it will not flow smoothly together. I just write about the segments of my life or about specific people as the muse hits me," I explain. "It might be a bit confusing."
"I am sure I will figure it out," he smiles at me before flipping through the top book. "All of it hand written?"
"I like being able to write anywhere without lugging a bunch of equipment," I shrug. "My own idiosyncrasy I guess."
He accepts my answer and smiles.
"I look forward to reading it," he says, and I genuinely believe he is.
"I don't know why," I murmur.
He hears it and gets a twinkle in his eyes. It is very similar to the look Trowa had when I yelled at him for not telling me Quatre and the blond pilot were the same person. It is as if Quatre knows some secret that I do not.
"One day you will," he says as he moves toward the door. "Goodnight,
Catherine."
"Are you sure you don't need me to work this weekend?" I ask Mrs. Gilbert. "Won't you need extra hands since Master Quatre is having guests."
For the past week, I have been hearing Leah grumbling about me not working this weekend.
"Everything is taken care of," she assured.
"Is there anything I can do to help get ready," I ask.
"Yes, there is. Master Quatre was wanting help on a project."
I go in search of Quatre. I find him and explain why I am here. He nods before telling me to follow him. We move up the stairs to the upper floor. He opens a door to reveal a storage room.
I look around at the stack of boxes and trunks covered with cobwebs and dust.
"No one has been in here for a while have they," I observe.
"No," he admits. "This room contains my mother things. After she died, Father had everything that reminded him of her put in here. I use to play in here as a child," his words ended dreamily as he got lost in memories.
He pulls himself back to the present.
"There was a flute in here someplace. It was not where I remember it being so I wanted help to search."
He described its case, and we start our search. I come across a box of pictures. I pull a few out. There was one of a young child taking a step while being steadied by a teen girl. The handwriting on the back indicated the child as Quatre and the girl as one of his sisters. Quatre leans over to see what has caught my attention.
"Its you as a baby," I say.
I flip through a few more, mostly of Quatre.
"You were a cute baby," I comment.
"Aren't I still cute?" he asks and looks at me with the most innocent look.
"If I say yes, you might get an inflated ego, and if I so no, it might cost me my job," I tease. "So it is best if I don't answer that."
He gives a snort of laughter and allows me to get by without answering.
After more searching, he finally finds what he is looking for. I watch as he opens the case on his lap and gently runs his hand over the instrument. All of the sudden his head snaps up as he closes the case.
"They're here," he announces.
I look at him puzzled. There is nothing in the room that would indicate his guests have arrived, yet, he was sure they have.
"Just trust me," he says as he grabs my hand and pulls me after him.
He stops briefly at his room to drop off the instrument. I suggest he at least brush the dust off his cloths and messed up hair. He runs a comb quickly through his hair and brushes off his cloths before heading out the door.
"You coming, Catherine?" he asks from the hallway.
I follow him down the stairs to the front door just as a couple finished putting down their things. Recognition comes as they turn toward us. I do not allow my surprise to show much and surprises a laugh at the reason why I was not working this weekend.
"Catherine," says Relena as Quatre catches up her husband in a friendly
hug. "It's good to see you again."
Dinner went well. It was just odd for me to be on the other side of the serving tray. The four of us sat around the cozy room after dinner and talked. I have not seen Relena and Trowa in the flesh since they got married.
"Did you know Catherine has become an author?" Quatre asks Trowa and Relena.
They both look at me intrigued, and I explain to them how it had started.
"So I started with how I lost my parents and my brother," I explain.
"What happened to them?" asks Relena moving slightly forward in her seat.
I summarize the tragedy that made me an orphan.
"You never found his body, how sad. Do you think he could still be alive?" Relena inquires.
"I guess there is that possibility," I reluctantly admit. "If he is, I don't know how I would find him or recognize him."
"I have some connections, let me do some inquiring for you. I might be able to find him or find out what happened to him," she offers.
I hesitate before agreeing to her offer. Could he still be alive?
"I don't want you to spend lots of time on it," I caution.
"It won't be that much," she reassures me. "I will need to know what you can remember about him and where you were attacked to help with the search."
I give her the details I can remember from childhood and what my adopted father had told me.
"In many ways Trowa reminds me of him. He has green eyes like Mom and his hair color is close to Dad's," I say.
"Were there any other characteristics that would help identify him?"
"He did have a birthmark," I say.
"What did it look like?" she asks.
"It sort of looked like a trident like Poseidon or Triton would have. Mom and Dad named him Triton because of it," I explain. "In a way, it was kind of twisted on our parents' part, but the family was the only ones to know of it."
"Where was this birthmark?" ask Relena almost insistently while she and Trowa look at me attentively.
"His right…, no, left butt cheek."
Relena laughs for no apparent reason, and Trowa look like he is in shock. Quatre and I exchange quick questioning looks before Relena calms enough to explain.
"I think he will be easier to find than you might think," she says cryptically.
"What do you know?" prods Quatre.
"I believe there is good reason you think of Trowa as your brother," she says with a wide smile on her face.
"I have such a birthmark," Trowa states, "in such a location."
"I can attest to it," volunteers his wife. "I would suggest a blood test to verify it, but he fits."
The irony of the situation hits me full force, and I just start laughing. I laugh so hard there are tears in my eyes, then I start crying and crumple in my chair.
"It's alright, Cathy," gently assures Trowa by my side.
I grab his hand.
"I know," I sniffle. "It's just I thought all my family dead for so long, and here you have been with me for several years now. Oh, Trowa," I lament and throw my arms around his neck and bury my tear stained face into his shoulder.
The next day we see about having tests ran on our blood. It is going
to take a few days for them to run the needed tests, but I can wait. Even
if he is not my brother, it will not affect the way I feel about Trowa,
and if he is, that mystery in my life will be solved.
Trowa and Relena left Monday morning and I am back to my normal routine. As I work, the anticipation of the outcome of the blood tests keeps nibbling at my mind like a grazing animal. I try to ignore it since the outcome will not affect my relationship with Trowa, but it would be nice to know to whatever degree of certainty the tests could provide that Triton did survived.
Since Wednesday afternoon is so dreary with the constant drizzle outside, I opt to loose myself in a book in my room. A knock at my door and Quatre's excited call of "Catherine" pulls me from reading. I let him in. He is caring a large white envelope, and excitement dances in his eyes.
"Here they are," he says while waving the envelope at me.
"What?" I ask slightly confused by his unusually exuberant mannerisms.
"The test results," he replies. "I had them call me when they were complete and went to pick them up myself.
I freeze and stare at the envelope Quatre is offering my. The moment of truth was here. My hand slowly moves up to take the item from him. I am mesmerized as I hold the results in my hands. Quatre looks at me anxiously waiting for me to open it.
After taking and releasing a deep breath, I run my finger under the flap breaking the seal. I pull out the contents and start reading. It takes a bit to read all the professional jargon and find the section that put it into terms I can understand.
Quatre squirms with anticipation but is polite enough to wait till I am done to tell him the verdict.
"Well?" he inquires.
I can feel my eyes light up and a smile explode on my face as I answer.
"There is a 90% chance that we are related. Combine that with the other factors and there is a 99% chance that he is Triton, which is as good as a 100% to me," I announce.
"That's wonderful," Quatre declares as he catches me up in a hug and we dance around the room in our joy.
We finally stop spinning and laugh.
"He's my brother," I keep repeating amazed.
I could see in his blue eyes that Quatre is as excited for me as I am. Then I realize how close we are. We are standing in the enclosure of each other's arms with bodies almost touching. A slight blush encroaches around the edges of my face, and I pull away from him.
"Thanks for bringing me the results," I say trying to hid the slight uncomfort I suddenly felt in his presence.
"It was no trouble. I am happy that you both have found your lost family," he says before he lets himself out.
I call Trowa to tell him before I try to return to my book. I find the
book no longer interests me, and I find myself thinking about Quatre. I
seem to relive each moment of his time in my quarters, especially the feel
of his arms around me. It felt so nice to be held again, even if it was
Quatre. Leah's comment about Quatre being cute and eye candy resurfaced,
and I let out a small laugh. I did have to admit he was nice to look at.
I try to dismiss the thoughts as just my longing for a man and left it
at that.