On The Threshold of a Dream
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: This delightfully thirteenth of the parts of my on-going alternate
reality story is a bridge between what has come before and what will come after.
Don't think about that too much, I could have feasibly put that in the disclaimer
of any of the chapters after the first one. While you'll find the continuing cast of
characters—recognizable as regulars from Gundam Wing, Cowboy Bebop,
Utena and Rurouni Kenshin—still up and about in the Road Rage Theater as
usual, this is sort of a side story flirting with a few specific characters. In the
works is another bit that will bring the story back to it's epic proportions. In the
meantime, here's a little sweet filler. Also, since it's a tangent, the lyrics are
from Starsailor, the British boys' response to Catatonia.)
Tie up my hands
It had to be done. Taking a deep breath, Sano leaned his back against the wall
and then with a determined flurry of movement, pushed open the dressing room
door like a patrolling officer without his gun. And Sano's intentions were a little
below the letter of the law.
He flipped on the lights, and seeing no one in the room at all, rushed toward the
old lockers that the Road Rage cast used to hold their personal belongs during
shows and rehearsals. Normally, they each respected each other's property. A
few of the more paranoid, although they wouldn't admit it out right, would
arrange their things just so—in the effort of easily noticing anything that had
been disturbed. Sano examined the locker he had in mind carefully, trying to
remember how the meaningless padlock rested on the dividing hash mark
between forty-two and forty-three, how the handle was obviously secured into
place, closed.
Opening the door, he took one more painfully anxious moment to memorize the
contents, ascertain which item he needed and prepare to return the wallet to the
same exact position.
Sano didn't care about fingerprints, he was desperate but not stupid. If nothing
looked disturbed, then no one would suspect. And even if someone did suspect,
not one item would have been removed; thereby, his prying left no cause for
concern. Just as long as he didn't get caught by anyone.
Rifling through the monetary bills, Sano managed to feel a small bit of
admiration at how simple the wallet managed to be. He knew that his own was
rather brimming with signed receipts promising payment at some undetermined
future point. Smirking to himself, Sano wasn't even sure if his wallet supported
anything green and of recognizable, immediate value. But the lack of extra
filling in this wallet worried Sano, it could spoil his sole purpose.
To find some evidence of how he could track down Catherine Bloom, the lovely
step-sister of the wallet's owner, Trowa Barton.
Convincing himself that he would steal the cheesy yet adorable photograph of
the young caterer that Trowa had tucked into the plastic sheath if her address
was nowhere to be found, Sano took a moment to chuckle over the family
picture—obviously taken when both Trowa and Catherine were in high school.
Barton's characteristically long hair was painfully gelled into a rebellious point.
Catherine's clothes, while flattering to her young figure were hideously outdated
and by current standards a fashionable mistake. Sano almost reconsidered
stealing that picture, one he could keep under the luxury of blackmail when he
found exactly what he was looking for.
Taking his own paper and pen, Sano scribbled down the phone number and
address. Everything was put into the locker as it was before, exactly one hash
away from forty-two. His brow furrowed as he re-read the street name, leaving
the dressing room with no further concerns of being discovered. The address
was stuffed deeply into his back pocket.
"This can't be right."
Wipe the make-up from your face
Tie your hair and gently fall from grace
The last thought Sanosuke had before falling asleep was oddly enough the same
thought that came to his mind as he woke again. How the heck could Catherine
Bloom be his neighbor? And he never noticed? It added a new twist to
everything. Granted, she lived in a building on the farthest corner of the entire
property, but he never had a clue. And no one who knew had dropped a hint.
He felt a bit betrayed and with that unpleasant thought fell asleep again for
sometime.
When the phone rang, Sano bitterly twisted, the sheets wrapping against his lean
torso until he felt like a rigid burrito. "Whadya want?"
"It's me, Misao. I was wondering what you were up to and if you wanted to go
to the beach or something?"
"Misao?" Sano's slow processes managed to conjure the image and memory of
the spry young girl who'd recently discovered green contacts and joined a karate
club. She'd been using him as a punching bag of sorts while Sano argued that
karate had to be more than fist fighting. When he'd threatened to show her how
to land a real punch, Misao admitted that she hadn't actually gone to the club
she'd joined. "Whadya doing calling me so early that it can't wait?"
"Oh you're just lazy. I bet you don't even drag yourself to your apartment's
pools on nice Saturdays like this. If you don't watch it, you'll start to look all
saggy like my gramps."
Sano almost longed for the days when Misao had overly adored him—rather
than trying to control him. "Whatever. You just want to tan and get all greasy
from the tanning oils."
"With this complexion?" Misao chirped continually, overlapping Sano's
grumbled and mumbled comments. "Fine, you just waste away until that
mattress is indented with your flabby figure, Mr. Sagara. See if I care."
"Misao . . . ow." Sano tried to sit up was held fast by the bed sheets. He
reluctantly tugged them aside.
"See you at the pool!" Misao cheerfully squeaked. As Sano listened to the dial
tone, while trying to find where the hand held phone was supposed to reside, he
could picture her triumphant grin as she jubilantly grabbed her car keys and sped
toward the apartments with dastardly intentions.
Still, after Misao pounded on the door until he woke up for the third time that
morning, Sano found the day had reached a satisfyingly hot temperature making
the shabby pool rather luxurious. Misao looked cute enough in her suit, she'd
cut her hair short and it made her look younger and even more tomboyish. Sano
remembered the picture of Catherine when she was younger, the same lean
figure and unsexy style of clothes.
He lounged on one of the beach chairs set under a practically useless umbrella
shielding him from the sun but not the heat. Pushing his unruly hair back from
his forehead, Sano smiled up at Misao who was close enough to encompass his
whole vision.
"You are so lazy, Sagara." She frowned and with a lingering pout, turned away
to entertain herself.
"Just trying to catch some zzz's, Misao, that's all." Sano excused himself,
feeling a bit guilty but for what he wasn't certain. He sat forward, and even as
he did so, he noticed what he'd been subconsciously hoping for since they'd
come to the pool. Across the lot, getting into her red Escort and hefting a large
box with her trim figure was Catherine Bloom.
"My God, she is real." Sano said to himself, not noticing that his jaw had
dropped. Once again, all intelligence slipping away as he entered a near sleep
moment of bliss.
Until I come again
Take the disaffected life
Men who ran the company, ran your life
You could have been his wife
"Need a hand?"
Catherine finished shoving the overly packed box into the back seat of her car
and shading her eyes, realized that the speaker was an over grown puppy of a
man. Her eyes narrowed naturally to filter out the afternoon glare. She glanced
at her half full car and imagined the length and effort the boxes that remained
would take. Not one to turn down anything that made her life more pleasant,
Catherine shrugged, "Sure, why not?"
"I'm Sano Sagara." He chattered on easily, following Catherine as she retraced
her steps back to the apartment. He followed eagerly. "I've lived here since last
summer, funny I haven't seen you before."
"Catherine Bloom. I'm not here often." Catherine commented, pulling her keys
from her pocket and unlocking her apartment door. "And unfortunately, I'm not
going to be here much longer." She appraised the boxes that littered her living
room and tried to decide what wasn't essential that could go on before her.
"Could you take this? And this?" She pointed, just before scooping up a plastic
bag of miscellaneous garments and towels herself.
"Right, Catherine." The neighbor picked up the boxes easily enough, and
appeared to have plenty of strength to carry more, but Catherine didn't bother to
appointed any other tasks to him at that moment. "So why are you moving?"
His voice took a strangely regretful tone.
Catherine swallowed heavily, she wasn't one to shy away from telling about
herself, but something in his question seemed genuinely concerned, and she
wasn't used to dealing well with honest people they were so rare. "There really
is no reason for me to stay." Catherine said lightly, trying to keep the bag
propped on her hip and ended up carrying it forward with the support of her
knee. "I mean, my brother still lives around here, which is cool and all. But,
everything else sort of fell apart."
"I'm sorry." He finished arranging the back of her car so the bag could fit in as
well. He was uncommonly tall, but she hadn't noticed at first. His full hair
made him seem even taller, and while Catherine wasn't a small girl, the angle at
which she noticed his brown eyes tilted her neck farther than usual.
"Thanks." She puzzled over his carefree statement. "It's really saving me time
that you're helping. Just a few more things for the trunk and I'm all set." She
watched as he matched her pace on their next trip. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten
your name already . . . did it start with an 'b'?"
"Sano. Sanosuke Sagara."
Catherine felt the clicks of piece by piece recognition. "Sagara? Like Faye
Sagara? Sanosuke Sagara? Road Rage Sagara?"
His grin lit up his features with pleasure, "That's right. One and the same,
Sanosuke Sagara. But good grief, don't mind me if I don't tell my sister you
associated the two of us."
"She's your sister?" Catherine laughed, "I catered some of Spike Spiegel's
parties and thought that you two were married?"
"What the heck?" The boy yelped in dismay, which Catherine anticipated with a
bit of playfulness.
"Just kidding, silly." She began to point out boxes again which Sano swooped
up effortlessly. "Golly you're efficient. So, I guess that you know my darling
brother, even if we don't share the same name. His is Barton, Trowa Barton."
"Know?" Sano growled good-naturedly, "He's my constant rival."
"I bet." Catherine scoffed, "Trowa's about as confrontational as a wet paper
towel."
"And you are . . ."
She wilted a bit even though she saw the teasing light in his eyes, "A used up
paper towel, really. Not that . . ."
"Not so!" Sano protested, nearly dropping the boxes in his dismay and causing
Catherine to rush forward. "I've got it. Don't worry. My dear lady, you are by
no means a paper towel . . . of any variety. Your good brother on the other hand
. . ."
"Hey now," She waved her finger, and Sano picked up another box and
balanced it beneath his arm. "I claim sole mocking rights on my sibling."
"Understood." Sano tossed his eyes upward, "But still, you are a goddess."
She hesitated a moment, a bit confused by his forward flirtations and decided to
attribute it to the actor's performance mentality. "Not a goddess, unfortunately.
If I had that sort of power, I wouldn't be leaving my child here with a good-for-
nothing father that happens to have a bigger paycheck than I do. Watch that
box! Don't carry so much if you can't."
"I can." Sano said quickly, lacing the comment with false cheerfulness.
When they came out into the afternoon sunshine, Catherine could feel a change
in her helper. She simply couldn't put a finger on the difference. "You've been
a big help. Thank you."
"Anytime." Sano shrugged, looking rather bashful.
"Maybe I'll see you at the theater?"
"Maybe."
I wanna love you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
"What do you think about younger men and older women?" Sano asked,
plucking at the edge of the fabric spilling free from the sewing machine.
"I think they're nice." Utena pulled on the cloth, securing the ends together with
calculated movements of her fingers coordinated with the machine's thread.
"Together, Utena. What do you think of them together, as a couple?" Sano
wondered how a girl could be as clueless as he was at times.
"I suppose it depends on the people. If they love each other, anything works.
Wouldn't you agree?" Utena put the unnecessary pins into her mouth and
effectively ended her side of the conversation.
Sano, meanwhile, was distractedly hung up on the deciding word. He knew his
family members were capable of great love—albeit that they demonstrated it in
a rather backward manner. His parents were disgustingly tied up in each other's
lives. Even Faye seemed rather head over heels for the quiet reporter she found
at the coffee shop. But himself? Not really.
When Trowa stopped in the doorway, comfortably dressed in a brown shirt and
khakis, Sano's ears burned as if he'd been caught in bed with Catherine. In bed.
The picture made Sano flush even faster. He tried to balance out the reaction by
remembering the "rebellious punk" version of young Trowa in the family photo.
"Sano." Trowa said simply.
For some reason, Sano couldn't find how his voice worked.
"For some reason, . . . my sister is asking for you."
"Your sister?" Sano squeaked, pointing at himself and doing his best to look
innocent and puzzled.
Trowa's eyebrows pulled up in the middle, almost sympathetic, but his
monotone was more experienced, "Are you going to keep her waiting?"
"No?" Sano didn't move, unnerved since Trowa still filled his only escape way.
"Go?" Trowa mimicked Sano's indecision with a threatening, yet lightly teasing
injection.
Suddenly released from where he stood, Sano stepped around Trowa who
accommodated him. "Where?"
"In the auditorium."
After escaping from the suddenly stifling prop room, Sano felt a new pressure as
he walked to the auditorium. Should he be excited, delighted, indifferent?
Without a script, the younger Sagara felt all of his usual lines falling intangible
like dry ice smoke. He searched frantically for the Sagara determination.
"You are the same Sanosuke Sagara after all." Catherine's smile made his heart
disappear as well. It was somewhere between them now, helping pull his
reluctant feet toward her. "Not that I didn't believe you." Her reddish-brown
hair darker in the theater lighting, as he remembered the way the sun reflected
off curls of crimson and gold highlights just the day before. Quite blinding in
their vibrancy. When he didn't respond immediately, her eyebrows pulled
upward in concern exactly mirroring her step-brother's expression from
moments before.
Sano laughed. And with the one deep belly rumble, he found himself filled
again with personality.
"What?" Catherine asked, she continued to lean against the back of one of the
chairs. Her grin turned hesitant.
He shook his head, the laughter silent but refreshingly easy. "That look—you've
lived with Trowa way too long."
Catherine breathed, humorously disbelieving the comment. "You don't say."
"Actually, I must." Sano protested, "Otherwise, you're as good as an actor as he
is at picking up another person's mannerisms in a matter of seconds."
"Trowa can do that?" When Sano nodded, she added, "Can you?"
"Sure, but not nearly as well. It's a more delicate touch than mine that can
manage it naturally."
Catherine's expression still hovered on a smile, "I'll take that as a compliment."
"I'd like to take you to dinner, actually." Sano waited, ready for any retort from
the object of his desire.
Her smile faltered, but only for a moment.
"Sure, why not?"
Lets watch the clock until the morning sun does rise
Wipe the sweat from off your brow
All that you believe is here and now
Guard down. Desires up.
Sanosuke could not do the one thing that came to him most naturally. Sleep.
How could he sleep again, after he had woken up next to her?
And then the curses that came to mind were too foul to utter, she might hear.
Reluctantly, as he confronted the awareness of her smooth arm curled over his
chest, he tried to take a collected appraisal of the situation. Hoping that some
resolution would come as easily. It wasn't his room. After dinner, he'd taken
her home. Among the boxes she'd started to show him pictures, of her parents.
The wedding that made Trowa her sibling—Catherine looked about eight. And
Helen, who at six, in photographs incredibly favored her mother.
Then the movie that Catherine had put in, a desperate attempt to stay forever.
He had wanted to stay. And she had wanted him to stay. The rest was excuses,
and those were easy to come by.
It had struck him as strange that the woman he could never have was right with
him, together at that moment. And then he had left thinking far behind.
"Don't carry too much if you can't."
"I can."
She moved, and even as she loosened her hold on him, Sano felt a desperate
need for her.
Could have had more doubt
Wipe the shadow from your eyes
"Where is this place?" Sano couldn't deny his hunger, but was a bit offset by
how the breakfast was just as satisfying as everything else Catherine did.
"Twenty minutes away. But it's really a temporary move until I get
confirmation on the sale down state. It'll be so wonderful to cater from some
place that is truly mine." Catherine made sure his plate was properly full,
walking back and forth in a way that Sano found quite distracting, her hair
caught up in a turban shaped towel. Her smell of soap carrying over the
breakfast aroma for only a moment.
If it wasn't for the boxes, Sano could have relaxed. But desperate hope wouldn't
let him hold his tongue much longer. "You've got plenty of reasons not to run
away."
"Run away?" Catherine said, "I'm not running away."
"Move away." Sano corrected, "Your brother's here. The apartments here are
nice, and you've got regular customers here. Not to mention Helen . . ."
"Sano," she sat down at the table and held her mug between her delicate fingers.
"I really, I've felt like I could trust you so much since we met. Something, but . .
. what I wanted to say was . . . truth is, I'm a horrible mother. I can't not be with
her. I can't be so near to her. Weekends, vacations, summers, whatever . . . I
can't do it."
"You're not horrible." Sano said reflexively, watching tears shimmer in
Catherine's eyes as she studied the surface of her coffee with blinded intent.
"What if I ran into her at the Road Rage if she were to visit Trowa? Or in the
mall? Or the grocery store? Could you imagine? 'Hi mom' in the canned goods
section?"
Sano felt scriptless again, nothing in his life was so incomplete. His family had
always been there, more or less—regardless of the unresolved and pointless
adoption question. He couldn't relate even as he tried to understand.
"But Helen, wouldn't she want you nearby? She'll still visit you wherever you
live. That's the way these things work, isn't it?" He watched as her face became
as stoic as her brother's could be, even as determined tears trailed toward her
chin.
He wanted to touch her. But even after last night, he couldn't break the walls of
separation. Who was putting them there? What a waste.
*Where's you're damn Sagara determination?* He threatened himself. *Take
what you want.* But had he already done that?
Whatever words were forming, Catherine anticipated,
"I can't. Don't you see, this is the sort of mistake that made Helen?"
Rest your daughter while your mother cries
You could have let him fly
She dabbed her eyes with the kleenex, a bit shaken but not surprised by the
thorough cursing she heard start as soon as she closed the door behind him.
Gentleness was not his foremost reaction in life, but it was there. Deeply hidden
by the bravado.
She hadn't been quite prepared for it, when he'd first kissed her. Behind the first
pressure, a second touch of emotion that she had forgotten might be there.
Something she'd remembered from the first kisses of her youth. But Sanosuke
was young. Too young. Young enough to forget. Forget that she'd found that
emotion again when she touched him.
I wanna hold you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
I wanna lie here 'til we've killed this bitter doubt
I wanna hold you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
Lets watch the clock until the morning sun does rise
Lets watch the clock until the morning sun comes out
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: This delightfully thirteenth of the parts of my on-going alternate
reality story is a bridge between what has come before and what will come after.
Don't think about that too much, I could have feasibly put that in the disclaimer
of any of the chapters after the first one. While you'll find the continuing cast of
characters—recognizable as regulars from Gundam Wing, Cowboy Bebop,
Utena and Rurouni Kenshin—still up and about in the Road Rage Theater as
usual, this is sort of a side story flirting with a few specific characters. In the
works is another bit that will bring the story back to it's epic proportions. In the
meantime, here's a little sweet filler. Also, since it's a tangent, the lyrics are
from Starsailor, the British boys' response to Catatonia.)
Tie up my hands
It had to be done. Taking a deep breath, Sano leaned his back against the wall
and then with a determined flurry of movement, pushed open the dressing room
door like a patrolling officer without his gun. And Sano's intentions were a little
below the letter of the law.
He flipped on the lights, and seeing no one in the room at all, rushed toward the
old lockers that the Road Rage cast used to hold their personal belongs during
shows and rehearsals. Normally, they each respected each other's property. A
few of the more paranoid, although they wouldn't admit it out right, would
arrange their things just so—in the effort of easily noticing anything that had
been disturbed. Sano examined the locker he had in mind carefully, trying to
remember how the meaningless padlock rested on the dividing hash mark
between forty-two and forty-three, how the handle was obviously secured into
place, closed.
Opening the door, he took one more painfully anxious moment to memorize the
contents, ascertain which item he needed and prepare to return the wallet to the
same exact position.
Sano didn't care about fingerprints, he was desperate but not stupid. If nothing
looked disturbed, then no one would suspect. And even if someone did suspect,
not one item would have been removed; thereby, his prying left no cause for
concern. Just as long as he didn't get caught by anyone.
Rifling through the monetary bills, Sano managed to feel a small bit of
admiration at how simple the wallet managed to be. He knew that his own was
rather brimming with signed receipts promising payment at some undetermined
future point. Smirking to himself, Sano wasn't even sure if his wallet supported
anything green and of recognizable, immediate value. But the lack of extra
filling in this wallet worried Sano, it could spoil his sole purpose.
To find some evidence of how he could track down Catherine Bloom, the lovely
step-sister of the wallet's owner, Trowa Barton.
Convincing himself that he would steal the cheesy yet adorable photograph of
the young caterer that Trowa had tucked into the plastic sheath if her address
was nowhere to be found, Sano took a moment to chuckle over the family
picture—obviously taken when both Trowa and Catherine were in high school.
Barton's characteristically long hair was painfully gelled into a rebellious point.
Catherine's clothes, while flattering to her young figure were hideously outdated
and by current standards a fashionable mistake. Sano almost reconsidered
stealing that picture, one he could keep under the luxury of blackmail when he
found exactly what he was looking for.
Taking his own paper and pen, Sano scribbled down the phone number and
address. Everything was put into the locker as it was before, exactly one hash
away from forty-two. His brow furrowed as he re-read the street name, leaving
the dressing room with no further concerns of being discovered. The address
was stuffed deeply into his back pocket.
"This can't be right."
Wipe the make-up from your face
Tie your hair and gently fall from grace
The last thought Sanosuke had before falling asleep was oddly enough the same
thought that came to his mind as he woke again. How the heck could Catherine
Bloom be his neighbor? And he never noticed? It added a new twist to
everything. Granted, she lived in a building on the farthest corner of the entire
property, but he never had a clue. And no one who knew had dropped a hint.
He felt a bit betrayed and with that unpleasant thought fell asleep again for
sometime.
When the phone rang, Sano bitterly twisted, the sheets wrapping against his lean
torso until he felt like a rigid burrito. "Whadya want?"
"It's me, Misao. I was wondering what you were up to and if you wanted to go
to the beach or something?"
"Misao?" Sano's slow processes managed to conjure the image and memory of
the spry young girl who'd recently discovered green contacts and joined a karate
club. She'd been using him as a punching bag of sorts while Sano argued that
karate had to be more than fist fighting. When he'd threatened to show her how
to land a real punch, Misao admitted that she hadn't actually gone to the club
she'd joined. "Whadya doing calling me so early that it can't wait?"
"Oh you're just lazy. I bet you don't even drag yourself to your apartment's
pools on nice Saturdays like this. If you don't watch it, you'll start to look all
saggy like my gramps."
Sano almost longed for the days when Misao had overly adored him—rather
than trying to control him. "Whatever. You just want to tan and get all greasy
from the tanning oils."
"With this complexion?" Misao chirped continually, overlapping Sano's
grumbled and mumbled comments. "Fine, you just waste away until that
mattress is indented with your flabby figure, Mr. Sagara. See if I care."
"Misao . . . ow." Sano tried to sit up was held fast by the bed sheets. He
reluctantly tugged them aside.
"See you at the pool!" Misao cheerfully squeaked. As Sano listened to the dial
tone, while trying to find where the hand held phone was supposed to reside, he
could picture her triumphant grin as she jubilantly grabbed her car keys and sped
toward the apartments with dastardly intentions.
Still, after Misao pounded on the door until he woke up for the third time that
morning, Sano found the day had reached a satisfyingly hot temperature making
the shabby pool rather luxurious. Misao looked cute enough in her suit, she'd
cut her hair short and it made her look younger and even more tomboyish. Sano
remembered the picture of Catherine when she was younger, the same lean
figure and unsexy style of clothes.
He lounged on one of the beach chairs set under a practically useless umbrella
shielding him from the sun but not the heat. Pushing his unruly hair back from
his forehead, Sano smiled up at Misao who was close enough to encompass his
whole vision.
"You are so lazy, Sagara." She frowned and with a lingering pout, turned away
to entertain herself.
"Just trying to catch some zzz's, Misao, that's all." Sano excused himself,
feeling a bit guilty but for what he wasn't certain. He sat forward, and even as
he did so, he noticed what he'd been subconsciously hoping for since they'd
come to the pool. Across the lot, getting into her red Escort and hefting a large
box with her trim figure was Catherine Bloom.
"My God, she is real." Sano said to himself, not noticing that his jaw had
dropped. Once again, all intelligence slipping away as he entered a near sleep
moment of bliss.
Until I come again
Take the disaffected life
Men who ran the company, ran your life
You could have been his wife
"Need a hand?"
Catherine finished shoving the overly packed box into the back seat of her car
and shading her eyes, realized that the speaker was an over grown puppy of a
man. Her eyes narrowed naturally to filter out the afternoon glare. She glanced
at her half full car and imagined the length and effort the boxes that remained
would take. Not one to turn down anything that made her life more pleasant,
Catherine shrugged, "Sure, why not?"
"I'm Sano Sagara." He chattered on easily, following Catherine as she retraced
her steps back to the apartment. He followed eagerly. "I've lived here since last
summer, funny I haven't seen you before."
"Catherine Bloom. I'm not here often." Catherine commented, pulling her keys
from her pocket and unlocking her apartment door. "And unfortunately, I'm not
going to be here much longer." She appraised the boxes that littered her living
room and tried to decide what wasn't essential that could go on before her.
"Could you take this? And this?" She pointed, just before scooping up a plastic
bag of miscellaneous garments and towels herself.
"Right, Catherine." The neighbor picked up the boxes easily enough, and
appeared to have plenty of strength to carry more, but Catherine didn't bother to
appointed any other tasks to him at that moment. "So why are you moving?"
His voice took a strangely regretful tone.
Catherine swallowed heavily, she wasn't one to shy away from telling about
herself, but something in his question seemed genuinely concerned, and she
wasn't used to dealing well with honest people they were so rare. "There really
is no reason for me to stay." Catherine said lightly, trying to keep the bag
propped on her hip and ended up carrying it forward with the support of her
knee. "I mean, my brother still lives around here, which is cool and all. But,
everything else sort of fell apart."
"I'm sorry." He finished arranging the back of her car so the bag could fit in as
well. He was uncommonly tall, but she hadn't noticed at first. His full hair
made him seem even taller, and while Catherine wasn't a small girl, the angle at
which she noticed his brown eyes tilted her neck farther than usual.
"Thanks." She puzzled over his carefree statement. "It's really saving me time
that you're helping. Just a few more things for the trunk and I'm all set." She
watched as he matched her pace on their next trip. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten
your name already . . . did it start with an 'b'?"
"Sano. Sanosuke Sagara."
Catherine felt the clicks of piece by piece recognition. "Sagara? Like Faye
Sagara? Sanosuke Sagara? Road Rage Sagara?"
His grin lit up his features with pleasure, "That's right. One and the same,
Sanosuke Sagara. But good grief, don't mind me if I don't tell my sister you
associated the two of us."
"She's your sister?" Catherine laughed, "I catered some of Spike Spiegel's
parties and thought that you two were married?"
"What the heck?" The boy yelped in dismay, which Catherine anticipated with a
bit of playfulness.
"Just kidding, silly." She began to point out boxes again which Sano swooped
up effortlessly. "Golly you're efficient. So, I guess that you know my darling
brother, even if we don't share the same name. His is Barton, Trowa Barton."
"Know?" Sano growled good-naturedly, "He's my constant rival."
"I bet." Catherine scoffed, "Trowa's about as confrontational as a wet paper
towel."
"And you are . . ."
She wilted a bit even though she saw the teasing light in his eyes, "A used up
paper towel, really. Not that . . ."
"Not so!" Sano protested, nearly dropping the boxes in his dismay and causing
Catherine to rush forward. "I've got it. Don't worry. My dear lady, you are by
no means a paper towel . . . of any variety. Your good brother on the other hand
. . ."
"Hey now," She waved her finger, and Sano picked up another box and
balanced it beneath his arm. "I claim sole mocking rights on my sibling."
"Understood." Sano tossed his eyes upward, "But still, you are a goddess."
She hesitated a moment, a bit confused by his forward flirtations and decided to
attribute it to the actor's performance mentality. "Not a goddess, unfortunately.
If I had that sort of power, I wouldn't be leaving my child here with a good-for-
nothing father that happens to have a bigger paycheck than I do. Watch that
box! Don't carry so much if you can't."
"I can." Sano said quickly, lacing the comment with false cheerfulness.
When they came out into the afternoon sunshine, Catherine could feel a change
in her helper. She simply couldn't put a finger on the difference. "You've been
a big help. Thank you."
"Anytime." Sano shrugged, looking rather bashful.
"Maybe I'll see you at the theater?"
"Maybe."
I wanna love you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
"What do you think about younger men and older women?" Sano asked,
plucking at the edge of the fabric spilling free from the sewing machine.
"I think they're nice." Utena pulled on the cloth, securing the ends together with
calculated movements of her fingers coordinated with the machine's thread.
"Together, Utena. What do you think of them together, as a couple?" Sano
wondered how a girl could be as clueless as he was at times.
"I suppose it depends on the people. If they love each other, anything works.
Wouldn't you agree?" Utena put the unnecessary pins into her mouth and
effectively ended her side of the conversation.
Sano, meanwhile, was distractedly hung up on the deciding word. He knew his
family members were capable of great love—albeit that they demonstrated it in
a rather backward manner. His parents were disgustingly tied up in each other's
lives. Even Faye seemed rather head over heels for the quiet reporter she found
at the coffee shop. But himself? Not really.
When Trowa stopped in the doorway, comfortably dressed in a brown shirt and
khakis, Sano's ears burned as if he'd been caught in bed with Catherine. In bed.
The picture made Sano flush even faster. He tried to balance out the reaction by
remembering the "rebellious punk" version of young Trowa in the family photo.
"Sano." Trowa said simply.
For some reason, Sano couldn't find how his voice worked.
"For some reason, . . . my sister is asking for you."
"Your sister?" Sano squeaked, pointing at himself and doing his best to look
innocent and puzzled.
Trowa's eyebrows pulled up in the middle, almost sympathetic, but his
monotone was more experienced, "Are you going to keep her waiting?"
"No?" Sano didn't move, unnerved since Trowa still filled his only escape way.
"Go?" Trowa mimicked Sano's indecision with a threatening, yet lightly teasing
injection.
Suddenly released from where he stood, Sano stepped around Trowa who
accommodated him. "Where?"
"In the auditorium."
After escaping from the suddenly stifling prop room, Sano felt a new pressure as
he walked to the auditorium. Should he be excited, delighted, indifferent?
Without a script, the younger Sagara felt all of his usual lines falling intangible
like dry ice smoke. He searched frantically for the Sagara determination.
"You are the same Sanosuke Sagara after all." Catherine's smile made his heart
disappear as well. It was somewhere between them now, helping pull his
reluctant feet toward her. "Not that I didn't believe you." Her reddish-brown
hair darker in the theater lighting, as he remembered the way the sun reflected
off curls of crimson and gold highlights just the day before. Quite blinding in
their vibrancy. When he didn't respond immediately, her eyebrows pulled
upward in concern exactly mirroring her step-brother's expression from
moments before.
Sano laughed. And with the one deep belly rumble, he found himself filled
again with personality.
"What?" Catherine asked, she continued to lean against the back of one of the
chairs. Her grin turned hesitant.
He shook his head, the laughter silent but refreshingly easy. "That look—you've
lived with Trowa way too long."
Catherine breathed, humorously disbelieving the comment. "You don't say."
"Actually, I must." Sano protested, "Otherwise, you're as good as an actor as he
is at picking up another person's mannerisms in a matter of seconds."
"Trowa can do that?" When Sano nodded, she added, "Can you?"
"Sure, but not nearly as well. It's a more delicate touch than mine that can
manage it naturally."
Catherine's expression still hovered on a smile, "I'll take that as a compliment."
"I'd like to take you to dinner, actually." Sano waited, ready for any retort from
the object of his desire.
Her smile faltered, but only for a moment.
"Sure, why not?"
Lets watch the clock until the morning sun does rise
Wipe the sweat from off your brow
All that you believe is here and now
Guard down. Desires up.
Sanosuke could not do the one thing that came to him most naturally. Sleep.
How could he sleep again, after he had woken up next to her?
And then the curses that came to mind were too foul to utter, she might hear.
Reluctantly, as he confronted the awareness of her smooth arm curled over his
chest, he tried to take a collected appraisal of the situation. Hoping that some
resolution would come as easily. It wasn't his room. After dinner, he'd taken
her home. Among the boxes she'd started to show him pictures, of her parents.
The wedding that made Trowa her sibling—Catherine looked about eight. And
Helen, who at six, in photographs incredibly favored her mother.
Then the movie that Catherine had put in, a desperate attempt to stay forever.
He had wanted to stay. And she had wanted him to stay. The rest was excuses,
and those were easy to come by.
It had struck him as strange that the woman he could never have was right with
him, together at that moment. And then he had left thinking far behind.
"Don't carry too much if you can't."
"I can."
She moved, and even as she loosened her hold on him, Sano felt a desperate
need for her.
Could have had more doubt
Wipe the shadow from your eyes
"Where is this place?" Sano couldn't deny his hunger, but was a bit offset by
how the breakfast was just as satisfying as everything else Catherine did.
"Twenty minutes away. But it's really a temporary move until I get
confirmation on the sale down state. It'll be so wonderful to cater from some
place that is truly mine." Catherine made sure his plate was properly full,
walking back and forth in a way that Sano found quite distracting, her hair
caught up in a turban shaped towel. Her smell of soap carrying over the
breakfast aroma for only a moment.
If it wasn't for the boxes, Sano could have relaxed. But desperate hope wouldn't
let him hold his tongue much longer. "You've got plenty of reasons not to run
away."
"Run away?" Catherine said, "I'm not running away."
"Move away." Sano corrected, "Your brother's here. The apartments here are
nice, and you've got regular customers here. Not to mention Helen . . ."
"Sano," she sat down at the table and held her mug between her delicate fingers.
"I really, I've felt like I could trust you so much since we met. Something, but . .
. what I wanted to say was . . . truth is, I'm a horrible mother. I can't not be with
her. I can't be so near to her. Weekends, vacations, summers, whatever . . . I
can't do it."
"You're not horrible." Sano said reflexively, watching tears shimmer in
Catherine's eyes as she studied the surface of her coffee with blinded intent.
"What if I ran into her at the Road Rage if she were to visit Trowa? Or in the
mall? Or the grocery store? Could you imagine? 'Hi mom' in the canned goods
section?"
Sano felt scriptless again, nothing in his life was so incomplete. His family had
always been there, more or less—regardless of the unresolved and pointless
adoption question. He couldn't relate even as he tried to understand.
"But Helen, wouldn't she want you nearby? She'll still visit you wherever you
live. That's the way these things work, isn't it?" He watched as her face became
as stoic as her brother's could be, even as determined tears trailed toward her
chin.
He wanted to touch her. But even after last night, he couldn't break the walls of
separation. Who was putting them there? What a waste.
*Where's you're damn Sagara determination?* He threatened himself. *Take
what you want.* But had he already done that?
Whatever words were forming, Catherine anticipated,
"I can't. Don't you see, this is the sort of mistake that made Helen?"
Rest your daughter while your mother cries
You could have let him fly
She dabbed her eyes with the kleenex, a bit shaken but not surprised by the
thorough cursing she heard start as soon as she closed the door behind him.
Gentleness was not his foremost reaction in life, but it was there. Deeply hidden
by the bravado.
She hadn't been quite prepared for it, when he'd first kissed her. Behind the first
pressure, a second touch of emotion that she had forgotten might be there.
Something she'd remembered from the first kisses of her youth. But Sanosuke
was young. Too young. Young enough to forget. Forget that she'd found that
emotion again when she touched him.
I wanna hold you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
I wanna lie here 'til we've killed this bitter doubt
I wanna hold you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
Lets watch the clock until the morning sun does rise
Lets watch the clock until the morning sun comes out