Immediate Circle
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Here there be Gundam Wing, Utena, Rurouni Kenshin and
Cowboy Bebop characters. Here there be Catatonia lyrics. Here there be
alternate reality. Here it is. Part 17.)
Heero was known for driving recklessly. And even as the car took them around
and through the rest of the traffic, Trowa continued to glance over and watch as
the circulating air picked up Heero's dark hair and blew it around as if it had a
life of it's own, constantly pulsing. Completely separate and distinctly other.
While they might have taken first steps to resolve the past, Trowa still felt his
lips turning downward with inconsolable fear. This was almost too much to
hope.
Staring absently at the dash, Trowa tried to create a balance in his memory
distinguishing his more instinctual feelings from the overwhelming amount of
misconceptions and unhindered truths of the past. Wanting to believe what he'd
been told. Then somehow, that desperate attempt for thorough understanding
instantly unraveled with the touch of the hand that had moved from the stick
shift to his thigh.
"I'm sure the old gang at the Glass House will be thrilled to see you again,
Trowa." Heero smiled, white through shadow, the same maniac personality that
left Trowa's head spinning.
I'm gonna change my immediate circle
Of friends
I'm gonna run away and join the circus
Oh yeah
The Glass House was an historical landmark for the city. Four stories, box
seats, carved decorations unique to each wall, and much too sophisticated for the
colorful and original shows that Heero emphasized. During the years that
Trowa had participated in the Glass House's productions they had never sold out
a show, much less the first balcony, but Heero's sizable inheritance was enough
to support the theater from going under. Even when it suffered such a split as
during a switch of directors.
Heero's car screeched to a halt directly in front of the theater's main doors.
Trowa a bit startled by how quickly his companion left the car and crossed over
to open his own door.
"Uh," Trowa said, perplexed as Heero held out his hand as an escort might.
Even after closing the door, Heero claimed Trowa's arm, entwining his fingers.
"I need you," Heero said pulling forward, looking forward only.
"What's going on?" Trowa said, kicking himself for not responding in kind, "Do
we need to talk about this?"
"Trust me," Heero's voice became dangerously low, "You'll understand soon
enough." Heero burst through the main doors, dragging Trowa along at his
recklessly quick pace. Once inside, Trowa instantly remembered the building's
aroma of stale smoke and lilac freshener. He'd been in the smoke free Road
Rage long enough to forget. The sounds of voices carried from the stage.
"Is that you, hey, Barton!"
Trowa turned mid-flight down the center aisle to see a delicate blonde woman
with an unusually sweet smile. Trowa's face brightened with recognition.
Untangling himself from Heero's grip, Trowa stepped back to where the young
woman was entertaining the latest show's script.
"Sylvia," Trowa grinned openly, and Sylvia stood to pull him into a warm hug.
"Trowa, you moron," she laughed easily, "Whatever possessed you to leave us at
a time like this? Wolfwood and Vash have done their best to keep morale high,
but you were always the solid common sense humming beneath all of their
shenanigans." Standing, she couldn't resist brushing back Trowa's wayward
hair, "You look well enough, why did you come back?"
In plenty of time, Heero had retraced his hurried steps to hover impatiently
while Sylvia indulged in Trowa's return. She was a little surprised by Heero's
possessive glower, but effectively ignoring his bristling energy she held her
claim to Trowa's attention.
Trowa, however, melted in Heero's direction. "We'll have to catch up, Syl.
Maybe later?"
"Later." Sylvia echoed, "Later I'm going out with Wufei and a few of the others.
Although, I'm guessing you'll be around more often now?" She tipped her head
toward the impatient Heero who was becoming more nervous with each second,
running his hands up and down the coarse leather of his coat sleeves.
"I hope so." Trowa said pointedly.
They continued to walk down to the front with a quick detour to the left toward
the backstage offices, Trowa waving and gesturing that he was in a hurry to the
distracted actors on stage. He smiled sympathetically as Wufei Chang began
lecturing them on the juvenile pursuit of waving to the audience during a
performance.
As soon as the door closed and they were in the poorly lit hallway, Trowa pulled
back on Heero's shoulder and taking the upper hand, physically backed the
shorter man into the wall. The yellow tinting of the light made everything dark
except the frustrated glow of Heero's eyes.
"What's the matter?" Trowa asked, his heart pounding with nervousness. He'd
never been so forward with Heero at such close proximity. "What's bothering
you?"
"It's been torturous being here after you left, Trowa." Heero said angrily. "I've
been wanting to leave again ever since I came back and you were gone. No one
else understands." Heero shrugged with newfound casualness, "I know I didn't
mention it before, last night. But I decided, I'm going to sell this place and do
something else." He stood taller to brush his fingers across Trowa's lips, "Focus
more on you, perhaps."
Trowa's knees collapsing was just enough to force Heero back against the wall,
faces close. "We should have talked about this." Trowa said, trying to maintain
his line of logic, "You're too impulsive. I know you love this theater."
"Ah, but things have changed since you left," Heero challenged. "Come with
me and see."
They've been leading me around in circles
Round and round
I'm gonna change my immediate circle
Of friends...
When things had been more complicated, and therefore simpler, Trowa
remembered walking next to Heero and comfortably being aware of his
charming smell—always of leather. Natural and more than a bit wild. He'd
always pined after his friend, drowning in dark blue eyes and into the depths of
Heero's conversation. But Trowa had never decided what to do if the fascination
was returned in kind. Each touch was enough to make him more than a little
crazy and confused.
He wanted this, but reservations began to build themselves a fortress of doubt.
Nothing could be so easy.
And there was the suddenness.
However, before Trowa could formulate any further concerns, Heero had pushed
their way into the main conference room where two other individuals that Trowa
didn't recognize half stood in greeting. The one who drew attention first was a
young woman in a simple grey suit, her hair was long, caramel colored and
pulled back into a ribbon. If Trowa didn't know better, he would have guessed
that she was auditioning to be a court reporter. And if she were the reporter, the
gentleman next to her would have been the glamorous Hollywood lawyer.
Trowa took a seat as Heero made cordial introductions. "This is Trowa Barton,
a friend of mine. He's here in order to hear your side of the negotiations, and I
hope they're more appealing than last time." Heero didn't do well in public or in
crowds larger than one other person. He slouched into his seat, chin tucked and
his face well hidden by his dark hair, which was significantly longer and more
disordered than the last time Trowa had seen the young man at any length.
"Hello, Trowa," The woman said simply, acute properness driven in her tone.
She gave Heero an intrigued look then put one hand to her shirt collar, "I'm
Relena Darlian, and this is my associate, Touga. We represent a party that is
interested in partnering with Mr. Yuy's investment in the Glass House.
Especially given the rough transitions as of late and the difficulty of handling
such things, we feel that a new spirit of comradery might be born from a united
leadership."
Trowa continued to listen to her as diligently as he could, recognizing a
practiced speech and trying not to smile as he watched Heero folding himself
deeper into his crossed arms with disinterest.
"I'd really rather you buy the whole mess." Heero grumbled, a dark mood
settling around him.
Relena's face seemed completely without reaction to the hostility as she smiled,
"Well, while our investors want to provide support to the Glass House, more
importantly they want to focus their intentions on supporting you and your
artistic merits, Heero." She said the first name with a flavor of guilt at stolen
familiarity.
Trowa glanced over at the room's other occupant, the red-haired man, who
seemed blissfully unimpressed with anything and glanced at his pager often,
cradling it in his soft, white fingers. "I have to take this call." He dismissed
himself without really seeking anyone's permission.
After Touga had stepped outside, Relena leaned over the table and giving Trowa
a dismissive glance said with a more pleading tone, "Do agree, Heero. I'm sure
that I could restore this broken castle into the kingdom that it once used to be-for
you."
"I'm sure," Heero said reluctantly, "But you sure as well can do it without me."
He sat up straighter, and spoke again, during which Trowa could almost feel
Heero tapping into his own energy as well. "Stop wasting your time. I'll sign
whatever papers are needed to give you the deed, the name, the contracts . . . and
Wufei agreed to stay as well."
"But I-" Relena stammered, her cheeks rosy with frustration. "What's changed,
Heero? I thought . . ."
"Make up the papers." Heero's volume dropped. "And when you're finally
finished, I can at last be free of this foolishness."
Trowa couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl, she obviously wasn't used to
seeing Heero's violent eruptions, albeit that moment was a very slight shadow of
his extreme moods. And those emotions could be all the more dangerous if one
misread them.
In my darkest hour of need
They all become make believe
And they pretend that they are sleeping...
"What are you thinking about?" Sanosuke finally said after a few seconds, he
was sprawled across Catherine's couch with most of Catherine herself lying
beneath him. They'd fallen that way and into a stiffening silence that sometimes
invaded even their closest moments.
Catherine blinked once, still staring at the ceiling, one arm pinned against Sano's
chest the other half daintily draped across her own shirt. "I'm thinking . . ." She
started to say, then her words slipped into the thick of the silence. Sano waited,
shifting to support her head better with his arm, letting the other snuggle around
her waist and keep her close.
Her jaw worked again, "I'm thinking about Trowa, you see."
Sano rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and snorted, "Okay, so you're making out
with me and you're thinking about your brother."
"Don't say that." Catherine sounded hurt, "I'm worried about him, about what
you said. About what it means."
"So." Sano sighed leaning in to better smell the mint of her breath and of her
hair. "Juri said he was alright, and it's not like any of us are going to care any
differently about him because of what that Saionji creep said."
"Really," Catherine said, still staring into the distance, "Really, you might care-
but you won't worry like I do. Trowa's too kind. The only time he was truly in
love and truly hurt was when he believed that one of his closest friends really
might love him back. But it didn't work. His friend left Trowa behind with
some damned stupid excuse . . ." She paused perplexed.
"He'll be fine." Sano tried again, breathing into her ear, "And so will you.
You've got me."
Catherine closed her eyes against the decisions she continued to put behind her.
Trying to steal all the feeling that she could from Sano's caresses-fighting her
fears for the moment.
I raise my game as the stakes stack higher
Higher
You cry wolf like you're the town crier
Cry girl
Juri realized that she was spending too much time trying to figure out how to
most comfortably wrap her arms around the other girl when Shiori suddenly
stopped walking and asked again, "So why did you want to see me?"
They were walking around the lake, enjoying the sunset of one of the first days
of autumn. Shiori didn't live far away from the water so they had met at her
home and walked in silence for some ways. Passed by joggers and cyclists.
Every once and a while Juri feeling the mist from the water caught on a breeze.
"I-I just wanted to spend some more time with you," Juri said simply, somewhat
glad that she hadn't been more forward, somewhat taken back at the girl's
sudden ignorance of what might have been between them in the past. "Dinner
was nice the other day, I thought I'd follow up." Trying to latch onto a steady
conversation while they were at last speaking, she fumbled, "How are you
enjoying your role?"
"It's fine enough," Shiori said, "It's going to be challenging trying to assimilate
all of those personalities into one character, but Saitou tells me that it's my
strength as an actress . . ."
"I remember someone else commenting on that as well," Juri put the images of
Ruka from her mind, focusing on the face of the girl beside her. The style of the
hair still an effective shield from that angle. "You've colored your hair."
"Yeah," Shiori said, "I've been making a number of small changes, so far you're
one of the first to have noticed. It's almost purple, so I'm not sure if I like it."
"It's unusual, that's true." Juri said, half agreeing only so that she might be
agreeing. Perhaps if she looped her arm just so and caught Shiori around the
elbow then reached down to lace their fingers . . . but the closeness of that
thought was too much and made her heart pound. Turning from the distraction,
she watched gulls diving around the many sailboats pulled in for the night. The
rush of the waves and the wind making even the gulls cries sound thin and
distant.
"Maybe we should turn around?" Shiori suggested, holding her arms close.
"I'm getting uncomfortable."
"Alright," Juri said, imagining herself draping one confident arm across Shiori's
shoulders, letting the girl lean in. Wanting someone close, it had been so long.
"It was nice of you to take this walk with me."
"I wasn't doing anything else." Shiori said.
"Is something the matter?" Juri asked quietly, "I'm sorry if . . ."
"No," the girl glanced up, her expression impossible to read, "I should get out
every now and again, but I really want to concentrate on my part as well."
"Alright," Juri nodded, understanding the need to pull away from other intimate
relationships in order to focus on a part. That's what Spike would have done, or
Ruka . . . but she had hoped . . . Spike didn't have to pull away from Julia.
Perhaps the problem was herself? "I didn't want to ask too much of you."
Shiori shrugged.
The queen of clubs drinks in pubs on days off
Swills down dregs, drags
On duck arsed cigarettes . . .
In my darkest hour of need
They all become make believe
And they pretend that they are sleeping . . .
"Pleased you could join us, Mr. Barton," Saitou said in his most disapproving
voice, although by most of the other actors' standards, Trowa was being let off
quite easily.
"I apologize," Trowa said, unable to sneak in quietly to the auditorium like he
had hoped since rehearsal had been moved to the much smaller and more
intimate practice room. He surveyed the other actors, Spike and Julia who
waved and, next to them, Sano who was staring at the ceiling in dismay that his
lateness hadn't been received so kindly. There were only two empty seats. He
considered slipping into the empty spot next to Dorothy, but she flatly refused to
meet his eyes since he first slipped in, so Trowa quickly turned the other
direction and sat on the opposite end beside Juri who seemed just as distracted,
but not so distantly.
"Now that our narrator has come, I can finish telling you that I appreciate your
auditioning. I know that the process was a strain on you given the complexity. I
assure you that it was just as much a strain for myself." Saitou paused very
briefly to acknowledge the sarcastic snicker from the company rooster head.
"Moving forward, this is going to be a challenging production. Mikage Souji
has begun work rewiring the lighting to accommodate the needs of such an
elaborate production. As most of you know, Miss Tenjou is going to be
teaching a number of you how to fence, or at least put on a decent front. What
you might not know is that we've also cast her as the mysterious prince that you
will notice pops in and out of the script from time to time."
"I thought Anthy was going to do that?" Spike spoke up, apparently not so
absorbed in his fiancé's ring as he appeared.
"Miss Himemiya's psychologist . . ." Saitou started dryly.
"Gotcha," Spike interjected, smiling in amusement.
"I didn't mind stepping in," Utena spoke up from the far end of the table they'd
dragged into the room for the purposes of this initial meeting. "It's a small part,
but I did some acting for Saitou before--although that was quite a while ago."
"You have my thanks," Saitou said, tipping his head in Utena's direction, "Now
if everyone would turn to the beginning of this disastrously creative play, let's
read through and unwrap some of what I have in mind."
Two hours later, Saitou adjourned the ensemble for a lunch break. The group
broke free from the practice room heading their individual directions. Spike
already pulling a cigarette from his pocket.
Trowa waited by the door until Dorothy walked up, her hair pulled back into a
long ponytail making her seem several years younger. Her blue eyes however
were still characteristically chilled, even when Trowa offered her a halfway
smile.
"Don't say a word." Dorothy warned, "You don't owe me any thanks. Nothing I
said to Heero was supposed to facilitate the two of you getting together."
"Then why . . . ?" asked Trowa, increasingly puzzled. "Well, it doesn't matter.
I was wrong all along, he does care for me." The memory of his conversation a
few nights before strangling his heart with desperately hoped for desires.
"When you want to hear it," Dorothy said lightly, her eyebrow arched, "let me
really tell you what I think about this whole situation."
"Tell me now," Trowa said, lowering his voice and becoming guarded for all his
attempts to be open-minded.
"No," Dorothy said watching him closely, "But I will say this, keep your head,
Trowa." His eyes narrowed, and Dorothy realized that she'd come close to
sparking the gangly man's deeply buried stubbornness.
"I'll keep that in mind." Trowa replied, turning to step out of the room.
Dorothy hovered a moment longer aware of the one other person still in the
room. "What do you want, Nichol?"
The dark man ran a finger along the side of his strong nose, "Interesting
conversation, Dorothy. What ever does it mean?"
"It's not really any of your business, darling," Dorothy's voice adopting the
cheerful camouflage she was used to, "Still you know how it is, you have to let
some people make their own mistakes before they'll learn . . . no matter how
hard you try to protect them."
Nichol snorted, "If Barton's screwing himself then I hope he gets twisted and
good."
"Hmm," Dorothy mused, "Well, unless I'm mistaken . . . Trowa's not the only
one with a favorite little obsession. I've noticed that you've been monopolizing .
. ."
Nichol laughed, "Dear Dorothy, I haven't stolen anything of *yours*." His eyes
twinkled darkly as he leaned in closely to whisper, " . . . not that I turn down
offers that end up on my doorstep."
"And here I didn't think you were interested," Dorothy tossed her hair, fixing
Nichol with a look.
"I play when the game is amusing." Nichol answered. "Besides, it puts me in
character . . ."
Dorothy made a thoughtful noise deep in her throat, before leaving the room as
well. Her opinion hadn't changed, sometimes people did have to make their own
mistakes. But this cruel game was long ago started, and Dorothy meant to see it
end her way even if the kitten had already chosen a different path. Even if it
meant pulling out the stops. She looped her handbag over her shoulder and
crossing through the foyer stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun.
I'm gonna change my immediate circle
Of friends
I'm gonna run away and join the circus
Oh yeah
I'll be assistant to the
Blind knife thrower
Better that than being
Factory fodder order...
"How's is it?" Trowa asked, almost bashfully, as Juri chewed her sandwich
thoughtfully. He'd invited her back to his apartment for lunch finding Juri still
in the theater even after his conversation with Dorothy.
"Thank you, it's fine." Juri smiled affectionately, Trowa had stumbled around
the kitchen quite a while trying to find something to accommodate her for lunch.
"I always forget you're a vegetarian," Trowa laughed sheepishly, "It's not your
most defining characteristic."
"I'm glad to hear that," Juri continued to eat sitting at the table, even as Trowa
paced around the kitchen putting things away and trying to make a more
organized mess out of the remaining items. "What are you going to eat?"
"Oh, right." Trowa turned around clearly at a loss, then began taking back out
all the sandwich items he'd just put away, including the lunch meat. The
apartment was quite like it's occupant, mostly browns and greens, easy going
and comfortable. It smelled like the GQ magazine which she found under the
morning paper. She raised an eyebrow, resting a finger on the cover.
"Cathy got me a subscription, some school fund raiser Helen had to do." Trowa
looked over his shoulder, "Helen's barely in first grade even."
"Everything seems to start younger," Juri nodded, taking a sip of water and
curiously studying Trowa's anxious behavior. "Did you want to talk about
something?"
He stiffened, as if she'd guessed correctly. Then leaving the half-finished
sandwich and supplies behind, pulled out the chair opposite from Juri and sat
down. Letting his hands fold in front of him, staring at his thumbs. Juri chewed
content to let her question rest. Glancing at the clock on the far wall of the
kitchen, they had a good forty-five minutes until Saitou expected them back at
the Road Rage.
"I don't know how to make this a short story," Trowa admitted, "But someone
I've loved very much has come back into my life. I thought he was gone
forever, really. Yet now he's ready to leave everything else--for me this time, he
says." Trowa frowned, "But I can't, I can't make myself believe him. No matter
how much I want him, or want to believe him . . . now."
Juri finished chewing and suggested, "Give yourself time, it's soon it seems.
And he should give you time, who is this impulsive fellow?"
"Heero Yuy," Trowa smile relaxed somewhat, "We grew up together. He, Cathy
and I were a terrible three-some for years before I went off to school and Cathy
got married. I'd always had this perplexing fascination for him, and it wasn't
until I started working with The Glass House that I realized how much he meant
to me."
"The Glass House? That Heero Yuy?" Juri started, "Oh my, I thought that place
had strict rules about the staff not intermingling in that way . . ."
"Don't get me wrong. We didn't . . ." Trowa waved his hands, "It was a most
unrequited love, I assure you. Besides, it wasn't like Heero didn't own the place
. . . still I kept my distance appropriately."
"You just wanted to be near him," Juri smirked knowingly, "I can sympathize,
but if you didn't tell him . . . how did this all happen?"
"Well, it all sort of came out one day when Nichol confronted me about . . .
another misunderstanding over a woman. I thought the easiest way to solve that
would be to explain that I was gay. Which you would think could have thrown
water on the tension between us," Trowa chuckled, "But no, Nichol won't rest
until I'm as miserable as he is. Which is what he thought he'd accomplish by
telling Heero that his best friend wanted . . ."
"I get the picture. And I'm sure that simply made Nichol's day," Juri sighed
sympathetically.
"Not exactly," Trowa reflected, "I kept my distance for about two days before I
woke up with a new roommate. Heero had come over just to talk and we got a
little bit too intoxicated . . . with each other. I wouldn't have let him stay, except
he said that he wanted to . . . hell, I wasn't going to turn him away."
"Then . . ."
"Then we were supposed to go to Europe together. Part business trip for him, all
pleasure trip for me. Except that at the last minute he disappeared on me, only
to find out that he'd left early with some excuse about . . . damn, what does it
matter." Trowa kept chattering with growing nervousness, Juri stopped
watching the clock. "He left last fall, and when The Glass House started to
crumble around me--I took the opportunity that Saitou offered me. Did I ever
tell you how Saitou and I met?"
"No." Juri's eyes crinkled affectionately.
"It was an audition back when Saitou was acting, remind me to tell you some
time." Trowa's laugh was anxious. He ran a hand through his reddish-brown
hair, holding it back from his pale face.
"What do you want from me?" Juri decided to ask pointedly, bringing Trowa
back from his fruitless digression.
"I can't . . . I completely stop thinking whenever I'm around him, and it scares
me." Trowa confessed, "Because with Heero, I've always been the responsible
one. He needs me to watch for him, and now he's impulsively selling The Glass
House to this woman who'd obviously rather bag Heero herself and run . . ."
"He's selling . . . ?" Juri said around her last bite of sandwich, very much
surprised.
"Crazy, he's crazy," Trowa shook his head, "Apparently he was going to
consider having a partner, but honestly, Juri, this woman is more than he can
handle." Trowa chuckled lightly, his breath rustling the unused napkin on the
table in front of him. "I'd hate to see him sell, but Heero's insistent."
"It is his choice, Trowa." Juri reached over for the napkin and began to wipe off
her fingers. "It's his choice to sell The Glass House, but participating in this
relationship is partly *your* choice. Don't forget that."
"Part of the reason why I can't see around him, is because I understand him too
well . . ." Trowa said softly, "His behavior makes so much sense, and now it's
so much what I want . . . that I lose all focus."
"Losing focus," said Juri simply, "I can understand that."
"We're going to be late." Trowa spotted the time on the clock and winced, "I
guess I'll sort out what to do when the time comes."
"Follow your instincts, when you love someone they'll turn out for the best.
You're a gentle person, Trowa."
"Do you really believe that?" Trowa scoffed, "Although, I want to believe you."
He grabbed his jacket and script which he'd accidentally brought home as well.
"Ready?" He asked, pulling the door open for Juri, when she suddenly
hesitated.
"Hi." She said, staring.
From the hallway, Heero Yuy turned from Juri to address Trowa, "Do you have
a minute, I need . . ." Heero began, then an expression of some bewilderment
crossed his Asian features as he looked back at Juri as if he wondered why she
was still there. He tilted his head to one side, and said, "Who's this?"
In my darkest hour of need
They all become make believe
And they pretend that they are sleeping...
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Here there be Gundam Wing, Utena, Rurouni Kenshin and
Cowboy Bebop characters. Here there be Catatonia lyrics. Here there be
alternate reality. Here it is. Part 17.)
Heero was known for driving recklessly. And even as the car took them around
and through the rest of the traffic, Trowa continued to glance over and watch as
the circulating air picked up Heero's dark hair and blew it around as if it had a
life of it's own, constantly pulsing. Completely separate and distinctly other.
While they might have taken first steps to resolve the past, Trowa still felt his
lips turning downward with inconsolable fear. This was almost too much to
hope.
Staring absently at the dash, Trowa tried to create a balance in his memory
distinguishing his more instinctual feelings from the overwhelming amount of
misconceptions and unhindered truths of the past. Wanting to believe what he'd
been told. Then somehow, that desperate attempt for thorough understanding
instantly unraveled with the touch of the hand that had moved from the stick
shift to his thigh.
"I'm sure the old gang at the Glass House will be thrilled to see you again,
Trowa." Heero smiled, white through shadow, the same maniac personality that
left Trowa's head spinning.
I'm gonna change my immediate circle
Of friends
I'm gonna run away and join the circus
Oh yeah
The Glass House was an historical landmark for the city. Four stories, box
seats, carved decorations unique to each wall, and much too sophisticated for the
colorful and original shows that Heero emphasized. During the years that
Trowa had participated in the Glass House's productions they had never sold out
a show, much less the first balcony, but Heero's sizable inheritance was enough
to support the theater from going under. Even when it suffered such a split as
during a switch of directors.
Heero's car screeched to a halt directly in front of the theater's main doors.
Trowa a bit startled by how quickly his companion left the car and crossed over
to open his own door.
"Uh," Trowa said, perplexed as Heero held out his hand as an escort might.
Even after closing the door, Heero claimed Trowa's arm, entwining his fingers.
"I need you," Heero said pulling forward, looking forward only.
"What's going on?" Trowa said, kicking himself for not responding in kind, "Do
we need to talk about this?"
"Trust me," Heero's voice became dangerously low, "You'll understand soon
enough." Heero burst through the main doors, dragging Trowa along at his
recklessly quick pace. Once inside, Trowa instantly remembered the building's
aroma of stale smoke and lilac freshener. He'd been in the smoke free Road
Rage long enough to forget. The sounds of voices carried from the stage.
"Is that you, hey, Barton!"
Trowa turned mid-flight down the center aisle to see a delicate blonde woman
with an unusually sweet smile. Trowa's face brightened with recognition.
Untangling himself from Heero's grip, Trowa stepped back to where the young
woman was entertaining the latest show's script.
"Sylvia," Trowa grinned openly, and Sylvia stood to pull him into a warm hug.
"Trowa, you moron," she laughed easily, "Whatever possessed you to leave us at
a time like this? Wolfwood and Vash have done their best to keep morale high,
but you were always the solid common sense humming beneath all of their
shenanigans." Standing, she couldn't resist brushing back Trowa's wayward
hair, "You look well enough, why did you come back?"
In plenty of time, Heero had retraced his hurried steps to hover impatiently
while Sylvia indulged in Trowa's return. She was a little surprised by Heero's
possessive glower, but effectively ignoring his bristling energy she held her
claim to Trowa's attention.
Trowa, however, melted in Heero's direction. "We'll have to catch up, Syl.
Maybe later?"
"Later." Sylvia echoed, "Later I'm going out with Wufei and a few of the others.
Although, I'm guessing you'll be around more often now?" She tipped her head
toward the impatient Heero who was becoming more nervous with each second,
running his hands up and down the coarse leather of his coat sleeves.
"I hope so." Trowa said pointedly.
They continued to walk down to the front with a quick detour to the left toward
the backstage offices, Trowa waving and gesturing that he was in a hurry to the
distracted actors on stage. He smiled sympathetically as Wufei Chang began
lecturing them on the juvenile pursuit of waving to the audience during a
performance.
As soon as the door closed and they were in the poorly lit hallway, Trowa pulled
back on Heero's shoulder and taking the upper hand, physically backed the
shorter man into the wall. The yellow tinting of the light made everything dark
except the frustrated glow of Heero's eyes.
"What's the matter?" Trowa asked, his heart pounding with nervousness. He'd
never been so forward with Heero at such close proximity. "What's bothering
you?"
"It's been torturous being here after you left, Trowa." Heero said angrily. "I've
been wanting to leave again ever since I came back and you were gone. No one
else understands." Heero shrugged with newfound casualness, "I know I didn't
mention it before, last night. But I decided, I'm going to sell this place and do
something else." He stood taller to brush his fingers across Trowa's lips, "Focus
more on you, perhaps."
Trowa's knees collapsing was just enough to force Heero back against the wall,
faces close. "We should have talked about this." Trowa said, trying to maintain
his line of logic, "You're too impulsive. I know you love this theater."
"Ah, but things have changed since you left," Heero challenged. "Come with
me and see."
They've been leading me around in circles
Round and round
I'm gonna change my immediate circle
Of friends...
When things had been more complicated, and therefore simpler, Trowa
remembered walking next to Heero and comfortably being aware of his
charming smell—always of leather. Natural and more than a bit wild. He'd
always pined after his friend, drowning in dark blue eyes and into the depths of
Heero's conversation. But Trowa had never decided what to do if the fascination
was returned in kind. Each touch was enough to make him more than a little
crazy and confused.
He wanted this, but reservations began to build themselves a fortress of doubt.
Nothing could be so easy.
And there was the suddenness.
However, before Trowa could formulate any further concerns, Heero had pushed
their way into the main conference room where two other individuals that Trowa
didn't recognize half stood in greeting. The one who drew attention first was a
young woman in a simple grey suit, her hair was long, caramel colored and
pulled back into a ribbon. If Trowa didn't know better, he would have guessed
that she was auditioning to be a court reporter. And if she were the reporter, the
gentleman next to her would have been the glamorous Hollywood lawyer.
Trowa took a seat as Heero made cordial introductions. "This is Trowa Barton,
a friend of mine. He's here in order to hear your side of the negotiations, and I
hope they're more appealing than last time." Heero didn't do well in public or in
crowds larger than one other person. He slouched into his seat, chin tucked and
his face well hidden by his dark hair, which was significantly longer and more
disordered than the last time Trowa had seen the young man at any length.
"Hello, Trowa," The woman said simply, acute properness driven in her tone.
She gave Heero an intrigued look then put one hand to her shirt collar, "I'm
Relena Darlian, and this is my associate, Touga. We represent a party that is
interested in partnering with Mr. Yuy's investment in the Glass House.
Especially given the rough transitions as of late and the difficulty of handling
such things, we feel that a new spirit of comradery might be born from a united
leadership."
Trowa continued to listen to her as diligently as he could, recognizing a
practiced speech and trying not to smile as he watched Heero folding himself
deeper into his crossed arms with disinterest.
"I'd really rather you buy the whole mess." Heero grumbled, a dark mood
settling around him.
Relena's face seemed completely without reaction to the hostility as she smiled,
"Well, while our investors want to provide support to the Glass House, more
importantly they want to focus their intentions on supporting you and your
artistic merits, Heero." She said the first name with a flavor of guilt at stolen
familiarity.
Trowa glanced over at the room's other occupant, the red-haired man, who
seemed blissfully unimpressed with anything and glanced at his pager often,
cradling it in his soft, white fingers. "I have to take this call." He dismissed
himself without really seeking anyone's permission.
After Touga had stepped outside, Relena leaned over the table and giving Trowa
a dismissive glance said with a more pleading tone, "Do agree, Heero. I'm sure
that I could restore this broken castle into the kingdom that it once used to be-for
you."
"I'm sure," Heero said reluctantly, "But you sure as well can do it without me."
He sat up straighter, and spoke again, during which Trowa could almost feel
Heero tapping into his own energy as well. "Stop wasting your time. I'll sign
whatever papers are needed to give you the deed, the name, the contracts . . . and
Wufei agreed to stay as well."
"But I-" Relena stammered, her cheeks rosy with frustration. "What's changed,
Heero? I thought . . ."
"Make up the papers." Heero's volume dropped. "And when you're finally
finished, I can at last be free of this foolishness."
Trowa couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl, she obviously wasn't used to
seeing Heero's violent eruptions, albeit that moment was a very slight shadow of
his extreme moods. And those emotions could be all the more dangerous if one
misread them.
In my darkest hour of need
They all become make believe
And they pretend that they are sleeping...
"What are you thinking about?" Sanosuke finally said after a few seconds, he
was sprawled across Catherine's couch with most of Catherine herself lying
beneath him. They'd fallen that way and into a stiffening silence that sometimes
invaded even their closest moments.
Catherine blinked once, still staring at the ceiling, one arm pinned against Sano's
chest the other half daintily draped across her own shirt. "I'm thinking . . ." She
started to say, then her words slipped into the thick of the silence. Sano waited,
shifting to support her head better with his arm, letting the other snuggle around
her waist and keep her close.
Her jaw worked again, "I'm thinking about Trowa, you see."
Sano rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and snorted, "Okay, so you're making out
with me and you're thinking about your brother."
"Don't say that." Catherine sounded hurt, "I'm worried about him, about what
you said. About what it means."
"So." Sano sighed leaning in to better smell the mint of her breath and of her
hair. "Juri said he was alright, and it's not like any of us are going to care any
differently about him because of what that Saionji creep said."
"Really," Catherine said, still staring into the distance, "Really, you might care-
but you won't worry like I do. Trowa's too kind. The only time he was truly in
love and truly hurt was when he believed that one of his closest friends really
might love him back. But it didn't work. His friend left Trowa behind with
some damned stupid excuse . . ." She paused perplexed.
"He'll be fine." Sano tried again, breathing into her ear, "And so will you.
You've got me."
Catherine closed her eyes against the decisions she continued to put behind her.
Trying to steal all the feeling that she could from Sano's caresses-fighting her
fears for the moment.
I raise my game as the stakes stack higher
Higher
You cry wolf like you're the town crier
Cry girl
Juri realized that she was spending too much time trying to figure out how to
most comfortably wrap her arms around the other girl when Shiori suddenly
stopped walking and asked again, "So why did you want to see me?"
They were walking around the lake, enjoying the sunset of one of the first days
of autumn. Shiori didn't live far away from the water so they had met at her
home and walked in silence for some ways. Passed by joggers and cyclists.
Every once and a while Juri feeling the mist from the water caught on a breeze.
"I-I just wanted to spend some more time with you," Juri said simply, somewhat
glad that she hadn't been more forward, somewhat taken back at the girl's
sudden ignorance of what might have been between them in the past. "Dinner
was nice the other day, I thought I'd follow up." Trying to latch onto a steady
conversation while they were at last speaking, she fumbled, "How are you
enjoying your role?"
"It's fine enough," Shiori said, "It's going to be challenging trying to assimilate
all of those personalities into one character, but Saitou tells me that it's my
strength as an actress . . ."
"I remember someone else commenting on that as well," Juri put the images of
Ruka from her mind, focusing on the face of the girl beside her. The style of the
hair still an effective shield from that angle. "You've colored your hair."
"Yeah," Shiori said, "I've been making a number of small changes, so far you're
one of the first to have noticed. It's almost purple, so I'm not sure if I like it."
"It's unusual, that's true." Juri said, half agreeing only so that she might be
agreeing. Perhaps if she looped her arm just so and caught Shiori around the
elbow then reached down to lace their fingers . . . but the closeness of that
thought was too much and made her heart pound. Turning from the distraction,
she watched gulls diving around the many sailboats pulled in for the night. The
rush of the waves and the wind making even the gulls cries sound thin and
distant.
"Maybe we should turn around?" Shiori suggested, holding her arms close.
"I'm getting uncomfortable."
"Alright," Juri said, imagining herself draping one confident arm across Shiori's
shoulders, letting the girl lean in. Wanting someone close, it had been so long.
"It was nice of you to take this walk with me."
"I wasn't doing anything else." Shiori said.
"Is something the matter?" Juri asked quietly, "I'm sorry if . . ."
"No," the girl glanced up, her expression impossible to read, "I should get out
every now and again, but I really want to concentrate on my part as well."
"Alright," Juri nodded, understanding the need to pull away from other intimate
relationships in order to focus on a part. That's what Spike would have done, or
Ruka . . . but she had hoped . . . Spike didn't have to pull away from Julia.
Perhaps the problem was herself? "I didn't want to ask too much of you."
Shiori shrugged.
The queen of clubs drinks in pubs on days off
Swills down dregs, drags
On duck arsed cigarettes . . .
In my darkest hour of need
They all become make believe
And they pretend that they are sleeping . . .
"Pleased you could join us, Mr. Barton," Saitou said in his most disapproving
voice, although by most of the other actors' standards, Trowa was being let off
quite easily.
"I apologize," Trowa said, unable to sneak in quietly to the auditorium like he
had hoped since rehearsal had been moved to the much smaller and more
intimate practice room. He surveyed the other actors, Spike and Julia who
waved and, next to them, Sano who was staring at the ceiling in dismay that his
lateness hadn't been received so kindly. There were only two empty seats. He
considered slipping into the empty spot next to Dorothy, but she flatly refused to
meet his eyes since he first slipped in, so Trowa quickly turned the other
direction and sat on the opposite end beside Juri who seemed just as distracted,
but not so distantly.
"Now that our narrator has come, I can finish telling you that I appreciate your
auditioning. I know that the process was a strain on you given the complexity. I
assure you that it was just as much a strain for myself." Saitou paused very
briefly to acknowledge the sarcastic snicker from the company rooster head.
"Moving forward, this is going to be a challenging production. Mikage Souji
has begun work rewiring the lighting to accommodate the needs of such an
elaborate production. As most of you know, Miss Tenjou is going to be
teaching a number of you how to fence, or at least put on a decent front. What
you might not know is that we've also cast her as the mysterious prince that you
will notice pops in and out of the script from time to time."
"I thought Anthy was going to do that?" Spike spoke up, apparently not so
absorbed in his fiancé's ring as he appeared.
"Miss Himemiya's psychologist . . ." Saitou started dryly.
"Gotcha," Spike interjected, smiling in amusement.
"I didn't mind stepping in," Utena spoke up from the far end of the table they'd
dragged into the room for the purposes of this initial meeting. "It's a small part,
but I did some acting for Saitou before--although that was quite a while ago."
"You have my thanks," Saitou said, tipping his head in Utena's direction, "Now
if everyone would turn to the beginning of this disastrously creative play, let's
read through and unwrap some of what I have in mind."
Two hours later, Saitou adjourned the ensemble for a lunch break. The group
broke free from the practice room heading their individual directions. Spike
already pulling a cigarette from his pocket.
Trowa waited by the door until Dorothy walked up, her hair pulled back into a
long ponytail making her seem several years younger. Her blue eyes however
were still characteristically chilled, even when Trowa offered her a halfway
smile.
"Don't say a word." Dorothy warned, "You don't owe me any thanks. Nothing I
said to Heero was supposed to facilitate the two of you getting together."
"Then why . . . ?" asked Trowa, increasingly puzzled. "Well, it doesn't matter.
I was wrong all along, he does care for me." The memory of his conversation a
few nights before strangling his heart with desperately hoped for desires.
"When you want to hear it," Dorothy said lightly, her eyebrow arched, "let me
really tell you what I think about this whole situation."
"Tell me now," Trowa said, lowering his voice and becoming guarded for all his
attempts to be open-minded.
"No," Dorothy said watching him closely, "But I will say this, keep your head,
Trowa." His eyes narrowed, and Dorothy realized that she'd come close to
sparking the gangly man's deeply buried stubbornness.
"I'll keep that in mind." Trowa replied, turning to step out of the room.
Dorothy hovered a moment longer aware of the one other person still in the
room. "What do you want, Nichol?"
The dark man ran a finger along the side of his strong nose, "Interesting
conversation, Dorothy. What ever does it mean?"
"It's not really any of your business, darling," Dorothy's voice adopting the
cheerful camouflage she was used to, "Still you know how it is, you have to let
some people make their own mistakes before they'll learn . . . no matter how
hard you try to protect them."
Nichol snorted, "If Barton's screwing himself then I hope he gets twisted and
good."
"Hmm," Dorothy mused, "Well, unless I'm mistaken . . . Trowa's not the only
one with a favorite little obsession. I've noticed that you've been monopolizing .
. ."
Nichol laughed, "Dear Dorothy, I haven't stolen anything of *yours*." His eyes
twinkled darkly as he leaned in closely to whisper, " . . . not that I turn down
offers that end up on my doorstep."
"And here I didn't think you were interested," Dorothy tossed her hair, fixing
Nichol with a look.
"I play when the game is amusing." Nichol answered. "Besides, it puts me in
character . . ."
Dorothy made a thoughtful noise deep in her throat, before leaving the room as
well. Her opinion hadn't changed, sometimes people did have to make their own
mistakes. But this cruel game was long ago started, and Dorothy meant to see it
end her way even if the kitten had already chosen a different path. Even if it
meant pulling out the stops. She looped her handbag over her shoulder and
crossing through the foyer stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun.
I'm gonna change my immediate circle
Of friends
I'm gonna run away and join the circus
Oh yeah
I'll be assistant to the
Blind knife thrower
Better that than being
Factory fodder order...
"How's is it?" Trowa asked, almost bashfully, as Juri chewed her sandwich
thoughtfully. He'd invited her back to his apartment for lunch finding Juri still
in the theater even after his conversation with Dorothy.
"Thank you, it's fine." Juri smiled affectionately, Trowa had stumbled around
the kitchen quite a while trying to find something to accommodate her for lunch.
"I always forget you're a vegetarian," Trowa laughed sheepishly, "It's not your
most defining characteristic."
"I'm glad to hear that," Juri continued to eat sitting at the table, even as Trowa
paced around the kitchen putting things away and trying to make a more
organized mess out of the remaining items. "What are you going to eat?"
"Oh, right." Trowa turned around clearly at a loss, then began taking back out
all the sandwich items he'd just put away, including the lunch meat. The
apartment was quite like it's occupant, mostly browns and greens, easy going
and comfortable. It smelled like the GQ magazine which she found under the
morning paper. She raised an eyebrow, resting a finger on the cover.
"Cathy got me a subscription, some school fund raiser Helen had to do." Trowa
looked over his shoulder, "Helen's barely in first grade even."
"Everything seems to start younger," Juri nodded, taking a sip of water and
curiously studying Trowa's anxious behavior. "Did you want to talk about
something?"
He stiffened, as if she'd guessed correctly. Then leaving the half-finished
sandwich and supplies behind, pulled out the chair opposite from Juri and sat
down. Letting his hands fold in front of him, staring at his thumbs. Juri chewed
content to let her question rest. Glancing at the clock on the far wall of the
kitchen, they had a good forty-five minutes until Saitou expected them back at
the Road Rage.
"I don't know how to make this a short story," Trowa admitted, "But someone
I've loved very much has come back into my life. I thought he was gone
forever, really. Yet now he's ready to leave everything else--for me this time, he
says." Trowa frowned, "But I can't, I can't make myself believe him. No matter
how much I want him, or want to believe him . . . now."
Juri finished chewing and suggested, "Give yourself time, it's soon it seems.
And he should give you time, who is this impulsive fellow?"
"Heero Yuy," Trowa smile relaxed somewhat, "We grew up together. He, Cathy
and I were a terrible three-some for years before I went off to school and Cathy
got married. I'd always had this perplexing fascination for him, and it wasn't
until I started working with The Glass House that I realized how much he meant
to me."
"The Glass House? That Heero Yuy?" Juri started, "Oh my, I thought that place
had strict rules about the staff not intermingling in that way . . ."
"Don't get me wrong. We didn't . . ." Trowa waved his hands, "It was a most
unrequited love, I assure you. Besides, it wasn't like Heero didn't own the place
. . . still I kept my distance appropriately."
"You just wanted to be near him," Juri smirked knowingly, "I can sympathize,
but if you didn't tell him . . . how did this all happen?"
"Well, it all sort of came out one day when Nichol confronted me about . . .
another misunderstanding over a woman. I thought the easiest way to solve that
would be to explain that I was gay. Which you would think could have thrown
water on the tension between us," Trowa chuckled, "But no, Nichol won't rest
until I'm as miserable as he is. Which is what he thought he'd accomplish by
telling Heero that his best friend wanted . . ."
"I get the picture. And I'm sure that simply made Nichol's day," Juri sighed
sympathetically.
"Not exactly," Trowa reflected, "I kept my distance for about two days before I
woke up with a new roommate. Heero had come over just to talk and we got a
little bit too intoxicated . . . with each other. I wouldn't have let him stay, except
he said that he wanted to . . . hell, I wasn't going to turn him away."
"Then . . ."
"Then we were supposed to go to Europe together. Part business trip for him, all
pleasure trip for me. Except that at the last minute he disappeared on me, only
to find out that he'd left early with some excuse about . . . damn, what does it
matter." Trowa kept chattering with growing nervousness, Juri stopped
watching the clock. "He left last fall, and when The Glass House started to
crumble around me--I took the opportunity that Saitou offered me. Did I ever
tell you how Saitou and I met?"
"No." Juri's eyes crinkled affectionately.
"It was an audition back when Saitou was acting, remind me to tell you some
time." Trowa's laugh was anxious. He ran a hand through his reddish-brown
hair, holding it back from his pale face.
"What do you want from me?" Juri decided to ask pointedly, bringing Trowa
back from his fruitless digression.
"I can't . . . I completely stop thinking whenever I'm around him, and it scares
me." Trowa confessed, "Because with Heero, I've always been the responsible
one. He needs me to watch for him, and now he's impulsively selling The Glass
House to this woman who'd obviously rather bag Heero herself and run . . ."
"He's selling . . . ?" Juri said around her last bite of sandwich, very much
surprised.
"Crazy, he's crazy," Trowa shook his head, "Apparently he was going to
consider having a partner, but honestly, Juri, this woman is more than he can
handle." Trowa chuckled lightly, his breath rustling the unused napkin on the
table in front of him. "I'd hate to see him sell, but Heero's insistent."
"It is his choice, Trowa." Juri reached over for the napkin and began to wipe off
her fingers. "It's his choice to sell The Glass House, but participating in this
relationship is partly *your* choice. Don't forget that."
"Part of the reason why I can't see around him, is because I understand him too
well . . ." Trowa said softly, "His behavior makes so much sense, and now it's
so much what I want . . . that I lose all focus."
"Losing focus," said Juri simply, "I can understand that."
"We're going to be late." Trowa spotted the time on the clock and winced, "I
guess I'll sort out what to do when the time comes."
"Follow your instincts, when you love someone they'll turn out for the best.
You're a gentle person, Trowa."
"Do you really believe that?" Trowa scoffed, "Although, I want to believe you."
He grabbed his jacket and script which he'd accidentally brought home as well.
"Ready?" He asked, pulling the door open for Juri, when she suddenly
hesitated.
"Hi." She said, staring.
From the hallway, Heero Yuy turned from Juri to address Trowa, "Do you have
a minute, I need . . ." Heero began, then an expression of some bewilderment
crossed his Asian features as he looked back at Juri as if he wondered why she
was still there. He tilted his head to one side, and said, "Who's this?"
In my darkest hour of need
They all become make believe
And they pretend that they are sleeping...