The Perfect Soldier

Chapter 11: The "M" Word

.

            Kathy had cried. Trowa hadn't anticipated that.

            He wasn't sure what he'd expected. No one had ever cried for him, except Kathy. It seemed he still couldn't get used to that.

            Trowa ducked into the main tent. It was still too early for the others to be up and about and the place was predictably deserted. He was grateful for that. He needed to be alone for a while, to think. He took a deep breath and let it out. As he slowly relaxed, his thoughts bubbled to the surface, one by one.

            Not surprisingly, his first thought was of Yokaze. He still hadn't had the opportunity to ask her why. Why had she given him back his past and not Heero? And how had she discovered the name he'd given her? Had she really been in the garden that night?

            With the thought of the night and darkness, his mind all too easily recalled the vision Yokaze had made in black leather and glitter.

            And blood.

            Oh, yes, Trowa had seen her right arm, completely painted with rust-red. Obviously, it hadn't been her own. She had moved easily with the grace that would have been impossible had she been injured.

            To say he'd been shocked by her appearance would have been a severe understatement. It had initiated something inside of Trowa, a restlessness he could not name, did not want to name. Over the past few days he'd been uneasy with the urgency to find her, but this was different. It was almost like—

            Trowa glanced up at the sound of the trapeze creaking under weight. Someone was up there. His green eyes narrowed as he reached for the ladder. As he swiftly pulled himself into the air, he considered the possibility that it was one of the mechanics, but he doubted it. All of them hated to spend anymore time than they had to on the trapeze. Usually, they left the final, minor adjustments to Trowa. That suited him fine. He would have checked it over anyway before Kathy had the chance to climb on it.

            He reached the top platform without making a sound and was startled to see a figure in a pair of grungy coveralls hanging over the edge. He didn't recognize the figure immediately because all he could see of it was the rear and long legs. A single hand appeared as the mechanic reached up to the platform, feeling about for something. Trowa crouched and gently nudged a monkey wrench closer to the grasping fingers. The instant the fingers touched it, it disappeared beneath the platform with the torso and head of the daring mechanic.

            Trowa cocked his head to one side, regarding this strange person. Everyone knew that taking care of the trapeze was Trowa's chore. Besides, who had the inclination to be up here in the first place?

            There was a soft clang and the scrape of skin against metal. Swearing softly, the circus employee applied himself more diligently for several moments. Trowa watched as he slowly levered himself up, gripping the sides of the platform with grimy hands. Knowing better than to startle anyone in such a precarious state, he waited until the man's torso was safely balanced on the wide board.

            Before he could move or speak, the man froze. Slowly, he turned his face to examine the company. Trowa's green eyes widened a nanometer.

            "It's you," he said.

            Yokaze sat up. "Don't look so surprised. I work here."

            She carefully wiped her hands with a clean rag and reached for her tools. She watched him as she polished each instrument. "Something on your mind?"

            There was an edge to her voice that reminded Trowa of Duo's sarcasm. He remembered to exhale. "My sister calls you Yokaze."

            "Aa."

            "Why that name?"

            She gave him a long look. "Because I knew it would get your attention. You gave it to me, did you not?"

            Trowa's face was a blank mask, but inside he frowned. "You were in the garden?"

            A knowing expression formed on her face. "Of course."

            He took that piece of information and analyzed it. She waited for him to finish and polished the monkey wrench. Finally, he said, "There was blood on your arm this morning."

            She said, "I washed it off."

            Trowa could see she wasn't going to elaborate. "You have a guest," he continued.

            She nodded. "Don't concern yourself."

            But he was. She was planning something else. He could see it in her eyes. He was starting to empathize with Taki. She was giving him nothing in the way of answers.

            "There's something else," she noticed.

            Trowa eyed her for a long moment. Would she answer this question? The most important one? He knew he had to try. "My past..."

            "Aa."

            "Why me?"

            She blinked. The question had been unexpected. "Why not?" she countered.

            "Why do you... care about reuniting me with my past?"

            "I can't answer that."

            Trowa's soft voice accused, "Can't or won't?"

            She was silent for a full minute but her hands kept moving. Polishing.

            Trowa was prepared to out wait her. He had positioned himself between her and escape: the ladder. He insisted, "Can't or won't?"

            Finally, she told him, "In one week. I promise you'll get your answer then."

            Trowa's green eyes examined her. She didn't so much as swallow under his scrutiny. "Alright," he said finally, acknowledging the fact that she simply wasn't going to tell him yet, "then answer me this. Why was I first? Why not Heero?"

            She systematically replaced the tools in their leather, roll-up holder. When she was finished she lifted her cobalt stare to his green one and said simply, "You were alphabetically first, Mr. Barton."

.

            Quatre's sister, Althea, was able to meet with Heero and Yokaze the next morning. So, at exactly seven fifteen a.m., the two left their apartments accompanied by Wufei, Taki, Trowa, Duo, and Quatre. A brief half an hour and two blood samples a piece later, Althea sent them on their way, promising to tell the lab it was urgent. They'd get the results in about two weeks.

            The atmosphere at Yokaze's was a bit deflated after that. Although Taki was bored out of her mind (and tired from waking up at six in the *bleep*-ing morning), she noticed that Heero (or Yokaze as everyone was calling her now) seemed immune. She fixed a tray and disappeared from the kitchen, closing the spare bedroom door behind her.

            "Well," Duo said, "what is that all about?"

            Taki shrugged and smothered a yawn. "How should I know?"

            "I thought you were the expert," he challenged.

            She was too tired to threaten him but she did manage a watery glare. "If it's important, she'll tell us."

            "What if it's important and she doesn't?" Duo demanded. "We could be missing out on something exciting."

            Taki put her head in her hands and mumbled, "I've had just about as much excitement as I can stand."

            Duo studied Taki's slumped form for a minute. "I thought you were going to kill Yokaze, er, Heero. What happened to your plan?"

            Taki lifted her head and grinned like the cat that caught the canary. She replied with great relish, "She told me all about the spa incident." Taki enjoyed seeing Duo blush. "I forgave her after that," she continued. "How could I not? She shared all of her... observations."

            Quatre, having overheard that, was turning red as well. Trowa was pointedly glaring out the window. Taki sighed and wished for the hundredth time that Wufei had been in the spa, too. That would have been absolutely perfect. She watched as Duo, wearing a particularly becoming shade of crimson, stomped away, muttering to himself.

            "Well," Quatre said, standing up, "I think I'll make some tea." His scarlet neck, face, and ears disappeared into the kitchen.

            Duo had taken up pacing back and forth in front of the guestroom door. Taki watched the hopeless male with something akin to sympathy. No matter how much he wanted to know what was going on, there was no way Yokaze would tell anyone before she was ready. And that was a fact.

.

            "You gonna boss me around some more?" Bisho's defiant, violet eyes attempted to stare down her hostess.

            "Yes. Go brush your teeth."

            "Shit."

            "No, just use the toothpaste."

            Bisho blinked before the remark hit home. She couldn't stop a grin from pulling at her mouth. "You know, you're gonna make one mean mom, someday."

            In the act of stripping the stale linens from the bed, Yokaze's hands paused. Finally, she said, "You think so?"

            "Abso-damn-lutely," the young girl informed her, "Your kids won't have a chance."

            "That is certainly true. Now quit stalling. Brush."

            Bisho sighed and disappeared into the adjoining bath.

            Yokaze's gaze didn't lift from the rumpled white sheet in her hands. Why had she chosen this color? Wasn't there a set of green linens around here somewhere? Anything but white?

            Over the sound of rushing water in the next room, Yokaze announced, "I'm smelling your breath when you come out."

            The muffled curse never met Yokaze's ears; she was too busy balling up the old sheets with more force than was necessary.

.

            It was getting harder and harder for Taki to both avoid Wufei and keep herself from wringing his neck. What was with him, anyway? His black glare never seemed to be far from her and, quite frankly, she was about ready to put a brown paper bag over his head. Who did he think he was, distracting her with those eyes? It was illegal, it had to be. Couldn't he just leave her alone? Really, after that circus fiasco, she would've been perfectly happy if she'd never seen him again. More than once, she'd considered taking off, but her curiosity—damn pesky thing—wouldn't let her leave until she found out with everyone else if Heero had a sibling. Taki had been left out of so much of her friend's life that she wasn't about to leave now. It was an odd time for her stubborn streak to assert itself.

            He was glaring at her again. She could feel it. Well, forget him. She was too tired to care. What had possessed her? Waking up at six in the bleeping morning? And for what? The most boring show in the universe, that's what. Who knew that DNA tests were so anticlimactic?

            She pretended to ignore Wufei and watched Quatre and Duo. They were making dinner. Taki paused and considered that statement for a minute. At that moment, Quatre let out a squawk of surprise as Duo tossed a small handful of flour at the blonde's immaculate shirt.

            Taki rephrased: Quatre was making dinner. Duo was making a mess. But it was entertaining, she was forced to concede. She leaned back in her chair to enjoy the show. Quatre was reaching for Duo's braid with a spoonful of molasses and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

            Slowly, the ex-thief became aware that the boy-Heero was in her line of vision now. She almost fell out of her chair. Was that an actual smile he was trying so hard to smother? She could see that this deserved more attention. With carefully lowered lashes, she studied the warm gleam of... humor? friendship? Dare she speculate... affection? in his eyes?

            Hm. Interesting.

            Duo caught his hair back just in time to avoid Quatre's attack. However, the blonde multi-millionaire was not without a Plan B. No one except Taki had spied the hunk of butter in Quatre's other hand. She winced in anticipation.

            But the second wave never came.

            Well, maybe it did, but it didn't have anything to do with food.

            Heero walked into the kitchen.

            In a tuxedo.

            Of all things.

            Taki had never seen her in a tux before. And she'd actually made an effort to tame her hair. The results of the struggle were quickly fading. Perhaps it was because this was the first time Heero had appeared in a tux, or done her hair, regardless Taki found the temptation too delicious to resist. She turned her complete and undivided attention on Yokaze.

            "Nice duds."

            "Hn." She went over to the sink where she gently disarmed Quatre with a stern look.

            Taki was not about to be put off. "So, what are you all dressed up for?"

            From the most shadowed corner of the room, Trowa took care to observe his hostess from beneath his lashes. Yokaze's face remained a flat mask—so like Heero's—but something sparked in her eyes at Taki's challenge. "I thought I'd rob a bank. There isn't any excitement in this town."

            Trowa smothered a tiny smile when he recognized that spark as her opportunistic, dry humor. Had he ever seen that in Heero? He didn't think so.

            "I bet you were planning to leave me here at the house, too, weren't you?"

            "With five handsome men?" her voice was flat, dull, but the humor sparkled still. "You can thank me later."

            "Yeah. Right. So, seriously, where're you off to?"

            "I'm zipping over to Earth for the evening. Dinner. Dancing." Her tone was so flat that Trowa could hear "yada, yada" after she'd stopped speaking.

            "Heero!"

            "I'm working."

            "You're going to fix stuff at the circus wearing that." She was horrified. And amazed. And possibly impressed in spite of herself.

            Yokaze snapped an impatient glare in her direction. "I'm returning a favor to George. His bassist is sick and the band is booked at The Red Eye tonight."

            Taki smiled at her friend's soft spot for George and music. She purred, "You're such dedicated friend."

            "Oh, shut up."

            Trowa observed the banter between the two without seeming to. He was intrigued that this woman who looked so much like Heero, who'd been trained by the same men as Heero, could still make fun of something. In the face of battle, of massacre, Trowa's sense of humor had been the first thing he'd lost. How was it hers had survived?

            Soon, it would be time to ask her a few more questions. And Trowa had always been patient. So he waited. But this time, he found it more difficult to do so. He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored this new restlessness.

            Taki grinned; this was one of her favorite pastimes: ribbing Heero. It had taken her years to develop a technique that was effective, and she wasn't about to let up now.

            "I think George should let you sing." Taki grinned wickedly. Heero hated to sing. Ever since that one time she'd managed to get more than one drink down Heero and a karaoke microphone in her hands, Heero had glared bloody murder at Taki every time she'd mentioned singing. This time was no different.

            Taki grinned and launched into a painful rendition of "Memory." The flaring of Heero's nostrils told Taki that she'd made a direct hit. A few more lines and their score would be settled. How dare Heero just take off and leave her out of the adventure? After this she'd think twice before doing that again. And what was the deal with dumping that disk in her lap? Maybe she'd have to think of something painful for that one, too.

            She grinned, "Who would have guessed that the perfect soldier can't carry a tune?"

            Silence thundered through the kitchen. Only the sizzle of something on the stove disrupted the unnatural calm.

            However, instead of promising eminent, painful death as Taki had anticipated, Yokaze simply smiled and then directed her attention to Wufei. "Mr. Chang," she began, her voice a smooth medley and altogether too sweet, "forgive me, but I've never been clear on your relation to Taki."

            Taki felt her humor miraculously disappear. Somewhere in her mind, an execution drumroll sounded. Her dark eyes narrowed.

            The others glanced at Wufei, whose surprised expression faded into a dark glower.

            Behind Yokaze, Taki said, "I swear to God, if he tells me he's my brother I'll kill something. I really will. And then I'll disown him. There's no way I'm related to this... this..." How could she accurately describe something so annoying? There weren't any words strong enough.

            Before Taki could think of a suitable insult, Yokaze directed her voice to Wufei once more. "I had hoped you would have filled her in back at the circus, but I see that you didn't." She turned around. "Quatre, dinner smells delicious. Marry me anytime."

            His blush was a bit late in coming because he was puzzling over the developing situation between Wufei and Taki. He opened his mouth to say that it had been his pleasure to make dinner when Taki's voice cut across the table.

            "Well, are you just going to leave me hanging?" Hostile glare to hostile glare, Taki and Wufei stared at each other.

            Very deliberately, Wufei told her, "I have no relationship to you, Taki."

            Her eyes narrowed even more. "You're being an ass because you don't think I could be L5's long lost heir? Gee, you're a hard sell, Chang."

            A muscle ticked along Wufei's cleanly shaven jaw. "What I am or am not is none of your business."

            She rolled her eyes. "Oh puleeeze. You are so full of yourself. Tell me, when you go out for dinner, do you have a discussion with your ego about which one of you will pay the check?"

            Someone in the room snickered but the arguing couple were too engrossed to care.

            "At least I pay," he snarled.

            A strangled sound escaped Taki's throat. Her voice was on its heels. "And you will, Chang. Just wait. You think that just because I spared Heero I'll go easy on you? Dream on, Dragon Boy."

            His lip curled. "It is you who are dreaming. I was a gundam pilot. You, who possess no honor whatsoever, are little better than a gutter rat. And I would sooner marry a rodent than a woman such as yourself."

            Caught up in her anger, Taki missed the crucial "M" word. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

            "Marriage," he repeated loudly. Wufei had risen from his seat and was actually shouting at his defiant opponent. "Perhaps you haven't heard of it. It's an honorable contract between two people—"

            "I know what marriage is you insufferable—"

            "And I'll no more honor our betrothal—"

            "Arrogant, ass. It's obvious that you don't know the meaning—"

            "Than I'll honor a mad man's promise of a peaceful future."

            "Of survival or else you'd applaud me for my career choice."

            The couple stood nose to nose now, their breathing ragged and harsh in the thick air. It was Taki who blinked first, Taki who replayed the conversation first. She paled as the anger left her in a single, cold rush. Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she said, "What did you say?"

            A cruel gleam entered his eyes. "Can you be a little more specific?"

            Blessed anger surged back into her. "Marriage, you idiot. You mentioned marriage."

            "So you've heard of it? Would you like me to elaborate on the principle? Give you a general idea?"

            "I don't think you could be more of a prick if you actually tried," she hissed. "I damn well don't need you, an ungrateful snob, to tell me about it."

            "Then why did you ask?"

            "Because I am damn well not betrothed to your sorry ass!"

            Wufei blinked. Realization dawned on him with a near-physical blow. He covered the self-disbelief in his eyes quickly. His voice was low and calm when he replied, "No, Taki, you and I are not betrothed. Zhih Luei and I were promised to each other before she disappeared. If I ever find her, I will have to honor my family's contract. However, you are not a member of the Dragon Clan. And, certainly, no member of the Zhih household would be so undignified as to renounce her honor."

            Taki seethed but kept a ruthless grip on her temper. "What about the tattoo?"

            In a flash, he recalled bending over her, taking her essence deep into his lungs, feeling his pulse leap at the scent of her. His voice was harsh with self-directed anger. "What about it? It's a convincing replica. Nearly an original piece of work."

            "You're so damn sure." There was more accusation than certainty in her voice.

            His glare intensified until it felt as if there was no room beyond Taki, no kitchen, no dinner, no colony, nothing. The intimacy was magnified with his low growl. "DNA doesn't lie."

            Dear God, did this man's arrogance never stop? "What DNA? Since when did I consent to a DNA test?"

            "When you claimed to be Zhih Luei." He saw the question in her eyes that she wanted so badly to ask. With a smug expression, he said, "A single hair is all that was needed, Taki. Soon, we'll both know who you're not."

            Taki was shaking she was so incensed. Why was she putting up with this? Oh. Right. Heero. Sibling. Yeah. Got it. She examined Wufei's triumphant expression and decided she wasn't so curious after all.

            Screw this. She was outta here.

            Without so much as a backward glance, she settled her backpack around her shoulders and walked out the door.

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~End of Chapter 11~