1 Star's Gaze
Chapter 2: Today We Walked Backwards Together
Kattie
Disclaimer: Gather round, gather 'round my beloveds! (That's not a word- is it? ^^*)
Pilots (aka beloveds): Gather 'round
Kattie: I have something very serious to tell you. takes a deep breath I do not own you! I have never owned you and I never will!
Pilots: blink blink
Duo: whispers Did we ever think Kattie owned us?
Quatre: ever-so-sweetly I don't think so.
Wufei: Baka onna
Kattie: ;_; The things I do to keep from being sued.
Note: Come on! Pleaaase somebody try the contest! You actually get a prize! It takes time to for me to figure out which title to choose so pleaaaase somebody take the time to try! (this message does not go to you Melara. pats Mel-san on head At least SOMEBODY appreciates my time sobs)
Note: I'm using the name Quaterine for Quatre's mother. I know in episode zero is was translated to Catherine by Viz. But… it's Quaterine! holds up her episode zero scans See! See! It's supposed to be Quaterine! So please do not bother me about this spelling as I have been harassed a million times about my spelling of Hiiro.
Note: Duo's temperature is 103 degrees Fahrenheit. In Celsius that would be … well… actually I don't know and I have no way to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius. Hm… well 103 degrees is just low enough that you don't need to go to a hospital. (According to Mommy and Mommy's always right ^__^) (hm.. has Kattie been brainwashed) yup ^__^
Dedication: This is also dedicated to Melara. If you want a chapter dedicated to you enter the contest! Or go read and review "Forever Gone" ^^* Only 8 reviews. Then again… it is a songfic…
At the Winner Estate
Mr. Winner awoke to the faint music of a violin. The sweet melody was muffled by the doors between him and the one who played this tune, but he could still hear it softly. It was somewhat sad, but harmonious nonetheless. The middle-aged businessman knew who was playing the instrument at once.
'Quatre.'
Walking through the halls, Mr. Winner soon found himself at the source of the music. He watched Quatre as he sat on the railing on the balcony, moving his bow back and fourth across the strings of the violin, causing the notes to fill the air. He was playing it softly, obviously to not disturb anyone, but then again, who could ever truly call themselves disturbed when listening to such divine music?
An off-key final note was played as Quatre noticed Mr. Winner, directly beside him, and flinched in surprise.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Quatre asked, setting his violin beside him on the rail.
"No, of course not. You were playing to softly to wake anyone. " Mr. Winner grinned, sitting on the railing next to his only son. "Will you play some more? You're an excellent violinist."
These words caused Quatre to blush a bright red. "Thank you."
As he began to play again, Mr. Winner couldn't help but smile lovingly at his wonderful son. Quatre brought so much joy into his life. With his son's love and kindness, Mr. Winner felt a great sense of achievement to have brought such an extraordinary person into being.
'Your son has grown to be just like you, Quaterine. I wish you were here to see him. He'd make you so proud.' Mr. Winner said to the heavens, not actually speaking the words, but making them more of a silent prayer to his deceased wife.
With the songs' conclusion, Quatre set his violin down again and looked into his father's eyes. "Uh… sir?" He began, his eyes filling with hope.
"What is it, Quatre?" Mr. Winner asked. He didn't know why, but for some reason Quatre looked extremely nervous.
"I… You know I have to leave tomorrow." Quatre said quickly, as if eager to get it out so it would finally be done with.
Mr. Winner chuckled at this and smiled down at his son. "No. You aren't leaving tomorrow."
In surprise, Quatre let his bow fall to the floor of the balcony. Although he obviously noticed this, Quatre didn't move to pick it up. Instead, he kept his confused gaze on his father's face. "I have to leave tomorrow," He explained, "I have a job to do. And you know you can't afford to be away from work any longer."
"There isn't any job for you to do," Mr. Winner argued, "This was is pointless. If you go back the only thing that will come of it is your death. I couldn't live with that."
Staring at Mr. Winner's face, Quatre didn't move for a second, lost in thoughts. When finally they were broken, he smiled sadly at his father and embraced him. "Father, I know you have a different opinion of this war, but you have to understand something. If I don't go back, other people will die in my place. I'm willing to die to end this war. I have to go back."
"Oh, Quatre," Mr. Winner grinned all-knowingly, "This war will end, but not through violence and death, especially not through your death. If everyone put down their weapons we could find a diplomatic solution to all of the problems. Why not be the first person to set down your weapon?"
"Do you really think people will give up on fighting just because one person decided not to fight?" Quatre asked, growing angry. "If people were actually like that then there wouldn't have been a war in the first place. If I stop fighting, everyone else will continue fighting but there will be less chance that the side I believe in will be victorious. Don't you see? I have to go back."
"I don't see anything," Mr. Winner snapped, "Except for a foolish young boy eager to shed his blood for a meaningless cause."
"Is peace really meaningless?" Quatre retorted.
"Fighting to bring fighting to an end is foolish." Mr. Winner explained.
"I agree, but no one else sees this view and so we have to achieve pacifism by their ways."
"Not 'we', Quatre. You're not going back." Mr. Winner finished.
"It's not your decision. This is my life and if I'm willing to give it for a 'meaningless' cause then it will be given up." Picking up his violin and bow, Quatre walked back into the house.
"But Quatre," Mr. Winner said to the empty space Quatre had filled the moment before, "It /is/ my decision, whether it is meant to be or not."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Far Away
"When is Quatre getting back?" Duo asked. He was laying on a chair with his legs hanging over one armrest and his head resting on the other. It was a very boring day.
"Tomorrow." Hiiro answered, simply. Though, in truth, he wished Quatre were back as well.
"You mean I still have another day to wait for him?" Duo whined.
"… Yes."
"But… Wufei will have killed me by then!" The brunette cried, shooting Wufei a suspicious look.
"Probably," Wufei admitted, "Unless you stop your constant whining."
"You're so mean." Duo groaned, shifting his position on the chair.
Trowa, oblivious to this entire conversation, stared out of the window into the void of space. With Quatre and the mission to retrieve him gone, his connection with the other pilots had been broken. Once again he sat in silence, saying nothing and acknowledging nothing.
Quatre was Trowa's friend. His one and only friend. With him gone, Trowa felt alone in the world. Without a mission, he had no reason to speak with the other pilots, and they had no reason to speak with him. It brought a sense of loneliness.
'Quatre,' he said to the stars floating in the darkness, 'Come back soon.'
Across the room, Duo continued his whining in a very successful attempt to seem natural. In reality, he was feeling sick- very sick. He hadn't been sleeping well and his stomach felt like someone had plunged a knife into it. A few times his temperature had reached a very high point of 103 degrees but right now it had gone down to 100.
'This better go away soon,' Duo thought, 'I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.'
* * * * * * * * * * * *
At the Winner Estate
"Are you serious?" Quatre asked the man by the front door.
"Yes, sir. I've been given strict orders not to allow you to leave the house." The man, who was actually very muscular, said.
"I have to leave," Quatre explained, "He's just being overprotective. I have to go back to fight in the war."
"I mean no offense, sir, but I wouldn't let my son be a soldier either. You have a very nice house. Just forget the war." He told Quatre, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Pushing past the man, Quatre grabbed the doorknob and turned it. Instead of the door opening, as doors are meant to do, it remained locked and a high screeched alarm filled the house. Panicking, Quatre turned the doorknob both ways over and over, hoping that maybe the door would open this time, or the next.
Realizing that the door was not going to open, or rather, accepting the fact, Quatre pounded on the door with his fist in his panicked state. Finally giving up, he leaned against the door, and slid to the ground, breathing heavily from the effort used. He was being trapped in his own home.
After a few minutes, someone sat next to Quatre and put a hand on his shoulder. "Quatre," He said, "This is for your own good. You may not realize it now, but someday you'll thank me for this."
Mr. Winner looked sadly at his poor son. Of course Quatre would be confused and afraid but that was only for now. He'd come to appreciate this soon. It would only take a little time. "Quatre?"
Acknowledging his father, Quatre looked up at Mr. Winner with tears trailing down his pale face. His eyes were red and he was breathing deep and tiredly. "Why are you doing this? Don't you understand?" Quatre asked. "With me gone their chances of being killed increase. Please, let me go. Please?" He looked at his father with eyes filled with hope and tears.
Mr. Winner almost backed down at the look he was getting from his son. Quatre was afraid of him. There was no love in his eyes now. Only fear and hope. "I'm sorry, Quatre," Mr. Winner said, finally, "But I've made up my mind."
Upon hearing this, Quatre buried his face in his arms, which were resting upon his knees, and began sobbing. Every melancholy breath sent a shiver down Mr. Winner's spine. "Don't cry, Quatre."
"Damn it," Quatre said quietly through his wracking sobs, "Why do you have to be so selfish?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
End of Chapter
End Note: Sorry, this chapter is short as well. I don't know why but my chapters always seem to start short and get longer. Maybe it's because I have a lot more reviews later into the story? (hint hint) ^__^ Hope you liked this chapter!
Hmm… considering writing a chapter song fic to "Art of Life" by X-Japan. It's 29 minutes long so it would have to be in chapters… hm… what do you think? I probably will anyway just because it works so perfectly ^^
Remember! Reviews= Inspiration= More and longer chapters!
If you'd like you can e-mail me at Kattie41@aol.com or IM me on AIM at Kattie41. Thank you for your time! Have a lovely day!
Chapter 2: Today We Walked Backwards Together
Kattie
Disclaimer: Gather round, gather 'round my beloveds! (That's not a word- is it? ^^*)
Pilots (aka beloveds): Gather 'round
Kattie: I have something very serious to tell you. takes a deep breath I do not own you! I have never owned you and I never will!
Pilots: blink blink
Duo: whispers Did we ever think Kattie owned us?
Quatre: ever-so-sweetly I don't think so.
Wufei: Baka onna
Kattie: ;_; The things I do to keep from being sued.
Note: Come on! Pleaaase somebody try the contest! You actually get a prize! It takes time to for me to figure out which title to choose so pleaaaase somebody take the time to try! (this message does not go to you Melara. pats Mel-san on head At least SOMEBODY appreciates my time sobs)
Note: I'm using the name Quaterine for Quatre's mother. I know in episode zero is was translated to Catherine by Viz. But… it's Quaterine! holds up her episode zero scans See! See! It's supposed to be Quaterine! So please do not bother me about this spelling as I have been harassed a million times about my spelling of Hiiro.
Note: Duo's temperature is 103 degrees Fahrenheit. In Celsius that would be … well… actually I don't know and I have no way to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius. Hm… well 103 degrees is just low enough that you don't need to go to a hospital. (According to Mommy and Mommy's always right ^__^) (hm.. has Kattie been brainwashed) yup ^__^
Dedication: This is also dedicated to Melara. If you want a chapter dedicated to you enter the contest! Or go read and review "Forever Gone" ^^* Only 8 reviews. Then again… it is a songfic…
At the Winner Estate
Mr. Winner awoke to the faint music of a violin. The sweet melody was muffled by the doors between him and the one who played this tune, but he could still hear it softly. It was somewhat sad, but harmonious nonetheless. The middle-aged businessman knew who was playing the instrument at once.
'Quatre.'
Walking through the halls, Mr. Winner soon found himself at the source of the music. He watched Quatre as he sat on the railing on the balcony, moving his bow back and fourth across the strings of the violin, causing the notes to fill the air. He was playing it softly, obviously to not disturb anyone, but then again, who could ever truly call themselves disturbed when listening to such divine music?
An off-key final note was played as Quatre noticed Mr. Winner, directly beside him, and flinched in surprise.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Quatre asked, setting his violin beside him on the rail.
"No, of course not. You were playing to softly to wake anyone. " Mr. Winner grinned, sitting on the railing next to his only son. "Will you play some more? You're an excellent violinist."
These words caused Quatre to blush a bright red. "Thank you."
As he began to play again, Mr. Winner couldn't help but smile lovingly at his wonderful son. Quatre brought so much joy into his life. With his son's love and kindness, Mr. Winner felt a great sense of achievement to have brought such an extraordinary person into being.
'Your son has grown to be just like you, Quaterine. I wish you were here to see him. He'd make you so proud.' Mr. Winner said to the heavens, not actually speaking the words, but making them more of a silent prayer to his deceased wife.
With the songs' conclusion, Quatre set his violin down again and looked into his father's eyes. "Uh… sir?" He began, his eyes filling with hope.
"What is it, Quatre?" Mr. Winner asked. He didn't know why, but for some reason Quatre looked extremely nervous.
"I… You know I have to leave tomorrow." Quatre said quickly, as if eager to get it out so it would finally be done with.
Mr. Winner chuckled at this and smiled down at his son. "No. You aren't leaving tomorrow."
In surprise, Quatre let his bow fall to the floor of the balcony. Although he obviously noticed this, Quatre didn't move to pick it up. Instead, he kept his confused gaze on his father's face. "I have to leave tomorrow," He explained, "I have a job to do. And you know you can't afford to be away from work any longer."
"There isn't any job for you to do," Mr. Winner argued, "This was is pointless. If you go back the only thing that will come of it is your death. I couldn't live with that."
Staring at Mr. Winner's face, Quatre didn't move for a second, lost in thoughts. When finally they were broken, he smiled sadly at his father and embraced him. "Father, I know you have a different opinion of this war, but you have to understand something. If I don't go back, other people will die in my place. I'm willing to die to end this war. I have to go back."
"Oh, Quatre," Mr. Winner grinned all-knowingly, "This war will end, but not through violence and death, especially not through your death. If everyone put down their weapons we could find a diplomatic solution to all of the problems. Why not be the first person to set down your weapon?"
"Do you really think people will give up on fighting just because one person decided not to fight?" Quatre asked, growing angry. "If people were actually like that then there wouldn't have been a war in the first place. If I stop fighting, everyone else will continue fighting but there will be less chance that the side I believe in will be victorious. Don't you see? I have to go back."
"I don't see anything," Mr. Winner snapped, "Except for a foolish young boy eager to shed his blood for a meaningless cause."
"Is peace really meaningless?" Quatre retorted.
"Fighting to bring fighting to an end is foolish." Mr. Winner explained.
"I agree, but no one else sees this view and so we have to achieve pacifism by their ways."
"Not 'we', Quatre. You're not going back." Mr. Winner finished.
"It's not your decision. This is my life and if I'm willing to give it for a 'meaningless' cause then it will be given up." Picking up his violin and bow, Quatre walked back into the house.
"But Quatre," Mr. Winner said to the empty space Quatre had filled the moment before, "It /is/ my decision, whether it is meant to be or not."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Far Away
"When is Quatre getting back?" Duo asked. He was laying on a chair with his legs hanging over one armrest and his head resting on the other. It was a very boring day.
"Tomorrow." Hiiro answered, simply. Though, in truth, he wished Quatre were back as well.
"You mean I still have another day to wait for him?" Duo whined.
"… Yes."
"But… Wufei will have killed me by then!" The brunette cried, shooting Wufei a suspicious look.
"Probably," Wufei admitted, "Unless you stop your constant whining."
"You're so mean." Duo groaned, shifting his position on the chair.
Trowa, oblivious to this entire conversation, stared out of the window into the void of space. With Quatre and the mission to retrieve him gone, his connection with the other pilots had been broken. Once again he sat in silence, saying nothing and acknowledging nothing.
Quatre was Trowa's friend. His one and only friend. With him gone, Trowa felt alone in the world. Without a mission, he had no reason to speak with the other pilots, and they had no reason to speak with him. It brought a sense of loneliness.
'Quatre,' he said to the stars floating in the darkness, 'Come back soon.'
Across the room, Duo continued his whining in a very successful attempt to seem natural. In reality, he was feeling sick- very sick. He hadn't been sleeping well and his stomach felt like someone had plunged a knife into it. A few times his temperature had reached a very high point of 103 degrees but right now it had gone down to 100.
'This better go away soon,' Duo thought, 'I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.'
* * * * * * * * * * * *
At the Winner Estate
"Are you serious?" Quatre asked the man by the front door.
"Yes, sir. I've been given strict orders not to allow you to leave the house." The man, who was actually very muscular, said.
"I have to leave," Quatre explained, "He's just being overprotective. I have to go back to fight in the war."
"I mean no offense, sir, but I wouldn't let my son be a soldier either. You have a very nice house. Just forget the war." He told Quatre, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Pushing past the man, Quatre grabbed the doorknob and turned it. Instead of the door opening, as doors are meant to do, it remained locked and a high screeched alarm filled the house. Panicking, Quatre turned the doorknob both ways over and over, hoping that maybe the door would open this time, or the next.
Realizing that the door was not going to open, or rather, accepting the fact, Quatre pounded on the door with his fist in his panicked state. Finally giving up, he leaned against the door, and slid to the ground, breathing heavily from the effort used. He was being trapped in his own home.
After a few minutes, someone sat next to Quatre and put a hand on his shoulder. "Quatre," He said, "This is for your own good. You may not realize it now, but someday you'll thank me for this."
Mr. Winner looked sadly at his poor son. Of course Quatre would be confused and afraid but that was only for now. He'd come to appreciate this soon. It would only take a little time. "Quatre?"
Acknowledging his father, Quatre looked up at Mr. Winner with tears trailing down his pale face. His eyes were red and he was breathing deep and tiredly. "Why are you doing this? Don't you understand?" Quatre asked. "With me gone their chances of being killed increase. Please, let me go. Please?" He looked at his father with eyes filled with hope and tears.
Mr. Winner almost backed down at the look he was getting from his son. Quatre was afraid of him. There was no love in his eyes now. Only fear and hope. "I'm sorry, Quatre," Mr. Winner said, finally, "But I've made up my mind."
Upon hearing this, Quatre buried his face in his arms, which were resting upon his knees, and began sobbing. Every melancholy breath sent a shiver down Mr. Winner's spine. "Don't cry, Quatre."
"Damn it," Quatre said quietly through his wracking sobs, "Why do you have to be so selfish?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
End of Chapter
End Note: Sorry, this chapter is short as well. I don't know why but my chapters always seem to start short and get longer. Maybe it's because I have a lot more reviews later into the story? (hint hint) ^__^ Hope you liked this chapter!
Hmm… considering writing a chapter song fic to "Art of Life" by X-Japan. It's 29 minutes long so it would have to be in chapters… hm… what do you think? I probably will anyway just because it works so perfectly ^^
Remember! Reviews= Inspiration= More and longer chapters!
If you'd like you can e-mail me at Kattie41@aol.com or IM me on AIM at Kattie41. Thank you for your time! Have a lovely day!