Chapter#8. Dream A Little Dream
There Dorothy was, beside him, decked all in white. He didn't know why, of course, but who could understand dreams? His lips formed into two words of their own accord, but no sound reached his ears, he was yet to find out why.
Suddenly he was transported to another place. Dorothy was there, too. Several blonde children played all about, with eyes varying from aquamarine, in very close shade to his own, to light blue, that reminded him of Dorothy's eyes. There she was, sitting quietly on the grass, happily. Happy as he had never seen her be before. In fact, now that he thought about it, she'd almost never seemed happy. Triumphant, yes, arrogant, of course, but happy? No, she'd never been happy.
Everything changed yet again as a more somber scene filled the last. It was one that wasn't a dream, but a recent memory. A picture of her filled his gaze, from when he'd first pulled her from an icy grave. Death had been inches from taking her life as she's raggedly breathed what could have been her last breath.
His heart clenched with fear, the fear of her dying, and in that moment he realized that he was in love with her. In love with the incredibly arrogant, foolish, intelligent woman he'd saved from an early death. She'd taunted him, ridiculed him, heck, she'd even stabbed him, but in the end he'd still fallen in love with her. And he knew that if she'd died he would have never found another like her, he would never have loved again. And he also knew that he wasn't going to lose her again. With newfound resolution he awoke, neither the sun shining nor the cold gone. But the wind had stopped, and if that wasn't an indication that things had changed, he didn't know what was.
Quatre looked down at the woman he realized he was in love with and suddenly something hit him, making him realize the real reason why he'd been so angry lately. 1. He'd fallen for her like a stone in a well. 2. No one had seriously treated him like a man, so he hadn't believed what he'd felt. He'd completely questioned himself time and time again. Duo treated him as if he was still a boy, the kid of the group. Dorothy had always treated him as if he would never be her intellectual equal. But despite all their blindness, he had changed. And he was going to prove it.
With a jolt Quatre sat straight upright as a slam and a light clatter filtered through his mind. Besides him Dorothy mumbled in complaint for the loss of heat, snuggling deeper into her comparative nest, against Quatre. However, Quatre was on the alert. Careful not to jolt the woman beside him he climbed out of the blanket folds into the cold night air, pulling out a pair of tan slacks from the closet and putting them on, making sure to pick up the flare gun on the night stand.
It was kind of ironic that of all the rooms to pick from, Dorothy had decided on the one he normally slept in. It was a pale off-white color, with navy blue trimming that added a slight masculinity to the room, and all the furniture was made of lighter wood. It was a room where you could rest after a full day's work, a very calming room.
Right now he wasn't wasting time wondering about the implication of this fact, though, especially as he had an intruder to deal with. His chest was bare and he absently shivered in the cold as he stalked through the night.
Hiding, as only one who owned the dwelling could, he crouched behind each piece of art and furniture acquisition. As he nearly stepped on a pile of broken glass he scowled int the dark. They'd come in through the window and there was now a hole in the glass to prove it, filtering in frigid air.
A shot was fired and a large hole appeared in the wooden wall beside him, splintering it.
" *An obscenity that I think I shall delete for Quatre*" he muttered, wishing for a better weapon. Suddenly he remember something, ducking down into the corridor and into the last room there. He had to look for it quick, or Dorothy wouldn't stand a chance. I CAN'T BELIVE THIS IS LONGER THAN WUFEI'S!
There Dorothy was, beside him, decked all in white. He didn't know why, of course, but who could understand dreams? His lips formed into two words of their own accord, but no sound reached his ears, he was yet to find out why.
Suddenly he was transported to another place. Dorothy was there, too. Several blonde children played all about, with eyes varying from aquamarine, in very close shade to his own, to light blue, that reminded him of Dorothy's eyes. There she was, sitting quietly on the grass, happily. Happy as he had never seen her be before. In fact, now that he thought about it, she'd almost never seemed happy. Triumphant, yes, arrogant, of course, but happy? No, she'd never been happy.
Everything changed yet again as a more somber scene filled the last. It was one that wasn't a dream, but a recent memory. A picture of her filled his gaze, from when he'd first pulled her from an icy grave. Death had been inches from taking her life as she's raggedly breathed what could have been her last breath.
His heart clenched with fear, the fear of her dying, and in that moment he realized that he was in love with her. In love with the incredibly arrogant, foolish, intelligent woman he'd saved from an early death. She'd taunted him, ridiculed him, heck, she'd even stabbed him, but in the end he'd still fallen in love with her. And he knew that if she'd died he would have never found another like her, he would never have loved again. And he also knew that he wasn't going to lose her again. With newfound resolution he awoke, neither the sun shining nor the cold gone. But the wind had stopped, and if that wasn't an indication that things had changed, he didn't know what was.
Quatre looked down at the woman he realized he was in love with and suddenly something hit him, making him realize the real reason why he'd been so angry lately. 1. He'd fallen for her like a stone in a well. 2. No one had seriously treated him like a man, so he hadn't believed what he'd felt. He'd completely questioned himself time and time again. Duo treated him as if he was still a boy, the kid of the group. Dorothy had always treated him as if he would never be her intellectual equal. But despite all their blindness, he had changed. And he was going to prove it.
With a jolt Quatre sat straight upright as a slam and a light clatter filtered through his mind. Besides him Dorothy mumbled in complaint for the loss of heat, snuggling deeper into her comparative nest, against Quatre. However, Quatre was on the alert. Careful not to jolt the woman beside him he climbed out of the blanket folds into the cold night air, pulling out a pair of tan slacks from the closet and putting them on, making sure to pick up the flare gun on the night stand.
It was kind of ironic that of all the rooms to pick from, Dorothy had decided on the one he normally slept in. It was a pale off-white color, with navy blue trimming that added a slight masculinity to the room, and all the furniture was made of lighter wood. It was a room where you could rest after a full day's work, a very calming room.
Right now he wasn't wasting time wondering about the implication of this fact, though, especially as he had an intruder to deal with. His chest was bare and he absently shivered in the cold as he stalked through the night.
Hiding, as only one who owned the dwelling could, he crouched behind each piece of art and furniture acquisition. As he nearly stepped on a pile of broken glass he scowled int the dark. They'd come in through the window and there was now a hole in the glass to prove it, filtering in frigid air.
A shot was fired and a large hole appeared in the wooden wall beside him, splintering it.
" *An obscenity that I think I shall delete for Quatre*" he muttered, wishing for a better weapon. Suddenly he remember something, ducking down into the corridor and into the last room there. He had to look for it quick, or Dorothy wouldn't stand a chance. I CAN'T BELIVE THIS IS LONGER THAN WUFEI'S!