Author's Notes: This one was hard, I am so sorry it took me so long.
There was so much that I had to figure out here, this story has taken on
quite a personality of it's own.
Part 7
Quatre sat in class, trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. It was all he could do though, to keep from bolting from the class entirely. His nerves were so wound tight that he couldn't sit still; he kept whipping his head around every time there was a new noise. Trowa looked at him worriedly from across the room. He was only half listening to what the teacher was saying when he heard him call on Quatre. Quatre's head shot up in surprise. He hadn't any earthly idea what the teacher had asked and sat there stupidly for a moment with his mouth gaping before the teacher repeated the question.
"I asked if you had anything to add about the patriarch's role in Islamic families, Mr. Winner."
"Ummm.No, I can't," Quatre stammered in reply before he fled the room. It was too much. The teacher had been discussing family values in different societies, and he just couldn't take the ordeal of going through his family's particular structure.
The teacher went quietly after him, instructing the class to stay put and read the assignment for that night. He found Quatre standing silently in the hall, trying not to panic. It wasn't often that Quatre lost his control and just couldn't deal with something, but obviously he had had a hard past couple of days. As the teacher looked slowly at Quatre, he saw deep dark circles under his eyes and the trembling of his hands as he silently fought to breathe normally.
"Go to your room and take a break Quatre, you need it. I'll ask Trowa to give you the notes later." He saw Quatre start to protest, as if he didn't want to seem weak. "No, go, if you need time, then you need time. It won't help you to stay."
Quatre shot a grateful look at his teacher, and not trusting his voice to express his gratitude, left without another word.
The teacher went back into class as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and soon the students were discussing different family structures and their affects on different populations. Trowa stayed quiet, not knowing if Quatre was ok, but unwilling to make a fuss over what had happened. When the class was over he gathered his stuff slowly and walked toward the door. Before he got there, the teacher called him over to his desk.
"Trowa, I want you to go give Quatre your notes, and see if he is ok. I know you two are friends, and a friend is what he needs right now." Trowa looked at his teacher in confusion. Even here, where the teachers knew the students well, this was an unexpected statement. It wasn't everyday that a teacher took such a care about a student's emotional well being.
"Oh, and go give this to the dean, it should get you excused from your afternoon classes," he added as he scribbled something down on a piece of paper and signed it. Trowa read it, surprised at the strange behavior. It was a short note, giving no specific details, but yet enough to suggest that Trowa and Quatre were unfit to go to their afternoon classes.
Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner were not feeling well, and I had to excuse them from my class. It might be well to excuse them for the afternoon.
Trowa took the note to the dean on his way to see Quatre. He just nodded and told him to take the afternoon off, and tell Quatre to do the same. Trowa rushed up to Quatre's room, wanting to make sure he was all right.
He found Quatre trying to read his hands still shaking and his eyes still panicked, not really looking at the pages he read automatically. "Are you all right? You're shaking."
"I'm fine, I just realized that my family isn't typical. I mean, what kind of father treats his children like mine does his? How can I have put up with it for so long? How can I have just accepted things the way they are?" Quatre's voice held a note of panic as he asked his questions, always finding the fault in his own behavior.
"Quatre, it's how you grew up? How were you supposed to judge that? Even the most dysfunctional family will think that their family is normal. And it is normal, to them. It is not in any way your fault."
"But.Iria.She's in danger, and it's my fault." He looked so helpless, so lost.
"It's not your fault. It's not. Little one.Kitten, please." Trowa's desperation to see Quatre be all right made his voice sound strained and forced. The emotion and caring behind his words were obvious, even to Quatre who looked at his face, really looked, and saw something that scared him and gave him hope at the same time.
"Thank you Trowa. I don't deserve someone like you."
"No, Quatre, you have it all wrong. Please, you're worth so much more than I."
Part 7
Quatre sat in class, trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. It was all he could do though, to keep from bolting from the class entirely. His nerves were so wound tight that he couldn't sit still; he kept whipping his head around every time there was a new noise. Trowa looked at him worriedly from across the room. He was only half listening to what the teacher was saying when he heard him call on Quatre. Quatre's head shot up in surprise. He hadn't any earthly idea what the teacher had asked and sat there stupidly for a moment with his mouth gaping before the teacher repeated the question.
"I asked if you had anything to add about the patriarch's role in Islamic families, Mr. Winner."
"Ummm.No, I can't," Quatre stammered in reply before he fled the room. It was too much. The teacher had been discussing family values in different societies, and he just couldn't take the ordeal of going through his family's particular structure.
The teacher went quietly after him, instructing the class to stay put and read the assignment for that night. He found Quatre standing silently in the hall, trying not to panic. It wasn't often that Quatre lost his control and just couldn't deal with something, but obviously he had had a hard past couple of days. As the teacher looked slowly at Quatre, he saw deep dark circles under his eyes and the trembling of his hands as he silently fought to breathe normally.
"Go to your room and take a break Quatre, you need it. I'll ask Trowa to give you the notes later." He saw Quatre start to protest, as if he didn't want to seem weak. "No, go, if you need time, then you need time. It won't help you to stay."
Quatre shot a grateful look at his teacher, and not trusting his voice to express his gratitude, left without another word.
The teacher went back into class as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and soon the students were discussing different family structures and their affects on different populations. Trowa stayed quiet, not knowing if Quatre was ok, but unwilling to make a fuss over what had happened. When the class was over he gathered his stuff slowly and walked toward the door. Before he got there, the teacher called him over to his desk.
"Trowa, I want you to go give Quatre your notes, and see if he is ok. I know you two are friends, and a friend is what he needs right now." Trowa looked at his teacher in confusion. Even here, where the teachers knew the students well, this was an unexpected statement. It wasn't everyday that a teacher took such a care about a student's emotional well being.
"Oh, and go give this to the dean, it should get you excused from your afternoon classes," he added as he scribbled something down on a piece of paper and signed it. Trowa read it, surprised at the strange behavior. It was a short note, giving no specific details, but yet enough to suggest that Trowa and Quatre were unfit to go to their afternoon classes.
Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner were not feeling well, and I had to excuse them from my class. It might be well to excuse them for the afternoon.
Trowa took the note to the dean on his way to see Quatre. He just nodded and told him to take the afternoon off, and tell Quatre to do the same. Trowa rushed up to Quatre's room, wanting to make sure he was all right.
He found Quatre trying to read his hands still shaking and his eyes still panicked, not really looking at the pages he read automatically. "Are you all right? You're shaking."
"I'm fine, I just realized that my family isn't typical. I mean, what kind of father treats his children like mine does his? How can I have put up with it for so long? How can I have just accepted things the way they are?" Quatre's voice held a note of panic as he asked his questions, always finding the fault in his own behavior.
"Quatre, it's how you grew up? How were you supposed to judge that? Even the most dysfunctional family will think that their family is normal. And it is normal, to them. It is not in any way your fault."
"But.Iria.She's in danger, and it's my fault." He looked so helpless, so lost.
"It's not your fault. It's not. Little one.Kitten, please." Trowa's desperation to see Quatre be all right made his voice sound strained and forced. The emotion and caring behind his words were obvious, even to Quatre who looked at his face, really looked, and saw something that scared him and gave him hope at the same time.
"Thank you Trowa. I don't deserve someone like you."
"No, Quatre, you have it all wrong. Please, you're worth so much more than I."