Chapter 15
A sudden and painful weight landed squarely on his stomach, and Quatre was sitting up, yelping at the throbbing pain in his arm and the tiny razor claws that were digging past the bed sheets and into his stomach. Coughing at the scratchiness in his throat, he gently lifted Star from her death like grip and placed the kitten neatly on the floor. The next thing he did was grab the hyperspray next to the bed.
Fifteen minutes later, once the worst of the high had worn off, he gently maneuvered himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He heard the soft tinkle of the bell that rested against Star's collar, a trinket Trowa had picked up a few weeks ago. His partner had awoken one morning and nearly stepped on Star, who'd been trying to follow him into the living room. From that moment on, Star had worn the bell, announcing her exact location.
Lifting the kitten with his good arm, he placed her on the counter where he knew she's stay until he'd shaved and finished the rest of his morning ritual. Aimlessly, she paced the countertop, meowing softly for the attention she knew Quatre would give her. Absently he stroked her white fur before reaching for his toothbrush.
Still brushing his teeth, Quatre walked back into the bedroom and looked at the half-made bed. Trowa was already up. The thought settled oddly in his consciousness as he recalled that today was Saturday, and all the pilots would be relaxing at home. Most days it was hard enough to get Trowa out of bed, but for him to have awoken at-he checked his watch-a quarter to ten- -it was almost unheard of.
Not completely satisfied but willing to wait for the answers, Quatre returned to the bathroom before he opted to forgo the shower because of his bandages, and brushed his light blonde hair with a few quick strokes. Lifting Star carefully, he set her down and moved to the door, waiting for the tiny ball of fur to exit.
"Why your highness, I'm afraid a bath just isn't in the stars for you today. I think you'll just have to make do until Trowa gets over his last attempt at giving you a bath. You naughty kitty, I don't even think you care that poor Trowa insisted I take care of each and every one of those mean scratches you left all over him. You have no consideration, Ms Star. You should be ashamed." Looking at him with a very kitten-like expression, Star only meowed and followed Quatre to the bedroom door. "Well, little missy, we have company now, so you better be on your best behavior."
The door panel moved aside to show the brightly-lit living room. And there, sitting on the couch watching him, was Killashandra, the white tee shirt her only attire. The light of the sun bounced off her snow white, mussed curls, adding a-fairy-in-the-sunlight look to her--that was if she hadn't looked so much like a waif.
Smiling, Quatre moved to the seat beside her. She followed him with her eyes before turning her body to face his once he'd sat down next to her. Star jumped onto the couch then, and Killashandra allowed the kitten to crawl into her lap. She looked puzzled for a moment before she ran her small hand lightly over Star's white fur.
"I think you've just made a new friend, Killa. Star doesn't normally like strangers. In fact, Heero came over once, and Star wouldn't come out of the bathroom the entire time." The girl seemed to ignore him now, engrossed solely in running her hands through Star's long coat of white fluff.
Reaching down, Quatre rubbed a finger under Star's chin, knowing the action would cause the little kitten to purr; he wasn't disappointed. At once the kitten began to vibrate in that way that often caused Trowa to suddenly laugh out of nowhere. Quatre smiled as he remembered finding Trowa on his back, Star perched on his chest. His Trowa had been laughing, really laughing, at the soft vibrations.
But as Quatre watched worriedly, Killashandra pulled both of her hands away and leaned back from the kitten in fear. Quatre quickly moved to reassure her. "Killa, it's ok. Look." He took her small hands in his own and brought them back to brush lightly over the still purring Star. "She won't hurt you. That sound--it's a good sound; it means she's happy. If she's purring, that means she wants you to pet her more. Here, like this." Softly he stroked their hands across Star's extremely happy form. Again and again, he traced their hands, until finally he let hers go and watched as she continued.
She seemed so small, so helpless and dependent--a little lost girl, too terrified by the world to ask for help. Her hands had been so tiny in his own--delicate--like fine china; and the thought that she needed him ran though his head over and over. She and Shingam needed him, and he wasn't going to let them down.
Smiling to himself at the beautiful picture Killashandra and Star made, he brushed an errant curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He watched her for a while longer--just watching the rhythmic movement of her hands.
"You know, Killa, you and Star have almost the same hair color. I think it's the most beautiful shade I've ever seen. It's very pretty." But it was like speaking to someone who wasn't there. Killashandra didn't acknowledge his presence after that first initial look; and a while later he moved from the couch to the spare room to check on Shingam.
The boy lay where he'd been the night before. His usual stone cold expression seemed less severe in sleep, more like that of any five year old boy. Quatre watched with fascination at the gentle rise and fall of his young charge's chest; he couldn't help the sigh of relief that passed from his lips; they really were safe now.
Shutting the door behind him, he moved back to the couch and watched Killashandra play with Star. The kitten really did not like strangers, and he was relieved that she seemed to have taken so well to the small girl.
Standing he moved to the console on the wall and keyed in his code. "Locate Barton, Trowa." He waited as the tracker searched the complex for his early rising partner.
"Barton, Trowa is unavailable."
"Unavailable?" Not understanding the machine's response, he repeated the inquiry before receiving the exact same answer. More than a little worried now, Quatre opened the link and waited for Trowa's answering presence. He received none.
Nervous, Quatre moved to the couch, only to find Killashandra had abandoned Star to watch him with focused attention. Gathering her to him, Quatre debated leaving her in the room with Shingam but decided against it, feeling more comfortable having the small child with him.
Keying the unlock code into the doorway, Quatre was stunned to see Duo-hand poised over the keypad-directly in front of him.
"Whoa man, you totally scared me! It's too early to be doing that, Quatre, and on a Saturday no less!"
"Duo, what are you doing here? And what are you doing awake?" The second question seemed more important than the first. He and Heero shared a love of the morning, while Trowa and Duo preferred the late hours of the night. They'd had to threaten to leave Duo at more than one club around two in the morning--more than once.
"Oh, you know. I just thought I'd drop by."
"Duo, it's barely ten o'clock. You don't even get up until noon, and you know Trowa doesn't get up until around eleven. What are you doing up so early?"
"What is this, the third degree? Can't your best friend just drop by for an early morning cup of tea?"
"Is my best friend dying?"
"Um, no?"
"Then no, he can't just stop by at ten in the morning for a cup of tea. It's physically impossible for him." Quatre smiled at the joke and moved aside for Duo to enter. "You don't happen to know where Trowa is, do you?"
Duo was known for hiding his discomfort behind the mask of a jester, but Quatre had learned to read Trowa's often minute facial expressions; the slight tensing in Duo's shoulders told him all he needed to know.
"Where is he, Duo?" Killashandra still wrapped in his arms, he looked expectantly at his friend, waiting for an answer.
Turning slightly, Duo reached out and took the child from his arms and set her on the floor. Together they watched her move back towards the living room, only to sit next to the coffee table and again play with Star.
"So the manic kitten's taken to her, has she?"
"Duo, what do you know?"
He watched his friend take in a deep breath before giving a nod and moving towards the couch. Quatre followed close behind him. After pouring them each a cup of tea, Duo moved to sit next to Quatre; in silence they watched Killashandra play with the feisty kitten.
"Shingam still sleeping?"
He nodded. "I checked on him a little while ago. He doesn't look so.severe when he's sleeping."
Duo nodded his head a few times. The next moment of silence was not so comfortable.
"Duo, what's going on, and where's Trowa?"
"Can't you, ya know, sense him or something?"
He only wished he could. The alarming turn of events had the back of his neck prickling.
"He's-he's not allowing his half of the link to open. I'm worried about him."
Again, Duo nodded his head a few times. "He's cool, Q. Actually that's why I'm really here. Trowa's off doing something, and I decided we could have some quality 'friend' time together. You know, talk or something; we haven't really had a chance to do that much." There was a note of sadness in Duo's voice, and Quatre had to agree that they'd had very few occasions to just hang out together since this whole mess had started.
"I'm sorry things have been so convoluted lately. But with the children and-"
"See, Quatre, that's what I'm talking about! It's always something with you!" Taken aback by Duo's harsh tone, Quatre watched speechlessly as Duo stood and moved over to the window. "These kids--I know they're important to you, but, man, I think you've gotten your priorities all screwed up! I mean, poor Trowa's a mess and-"
"What do you mean, 'a mess'?" A thinly veiled panic settled over him and Quatre nearly rose from his seat.
"Relax. Just sit there and let me bitch you out in peace." He waited until Quatre had settled back into the couch before continuing. "Ok, here's the deal. Trowa went to see Corinne-"
"What?!"
"I said shut up and let me talk! Don't make me gag you in front of the kid!" He gestured wildly towards Killashandra, who was still acting as if they didn't even exist. "Now listen. Trowa went to see Corinne. Last night, after you pulled that arm bullshit, Trowa went all quiet and scary. Corinne must have picked up on something because she started talking to him about stuff I didn't understand. Next thing I know she starts making sense, and I start getting totally pissed off at you!" He nearly slammed his coffee mug down to make his point.
"What-what did I do?"
"Oh don't pull that innocent bullshit on me Quatre. I'm you're best friend- -give a guy a little credit. That stunt you pulled last night-I don't think you've really had a chance to think it through yet. So why don't you just sit there nice and quiet like and realized what an asshole you were, not only to Trowa, but everyone else who's helped you these last few months!"
Not knowing what to say at Duo's uncharacteristic anger, Quatre just sat there dumbfounded. Duo didn't make him sit long.
"Nothing? Can't figure it out? Let me explain. Oh man, where should I start? Oh, ok, how about I just start numbering them off for you? No objections? Good. One: you drag the lot of us into the depths of outer space to track down two kids who may have been genetically created to kill us! Two: you somehow manage to get Trowa to bring said kids back to Earth to live in your spare bedroom. Three: did you even ask if Trowa wanted two kids running a muck in his stuff? Nope, didn't think so. Four: not only do you get injured getting the kids, but then you lie about the pain. Great confidence booster for the rest of us, ne Quatre? Five: don't even get me started about last night! If I was Trowa I would have pounded some sense into you and made you suffer. As it is, you got off way too easy, man, and you know why? Because Trowa's too afraid to say a single thing to you; he's too terrified out of his mind that you'll slip again and take a one way trip off a building! Stop and think for just five seconds about what you've put the rest of us through! Damn it!"
Falling silent, Duo looked away from him in disgust and stared out the window. But Quatre didn't have that luxury; his mind raced with the things Duo had told him, the emotions he'd unwittingly showed him.
He'd just assumed that Trowa wanted to find the children--that they all had. He'd been so adamant about it for weeks; they nearly left the same day they'd figured out where the children were. But had he missed something? Obviously! Duo had just told him-in no uncertain terms-that the others had not intended to search out the children. His mind reeled at the idea that Trowa had not wanted the children to stay with them. He'd just assumed-and therein lay the problem.
He saw it crystal clear, like a light being turned on in his head. He'd assumed too much, took for granted too much. When Trowa had offered no protest to his plans of having the children stay with them, he'd foolishly assumed that that was what Trowa wanted as well. But here was his best friend, telling him he'd messed up. But why hadn't anyone said anything?
"If-if that's all true, then why didn't you tell me sooner, before the children were here? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"What the hell did you expect us to say? We're still all in the same boat as Trowa! Quatre, the last time you supposedly 'recovered' you lasted about a month before trying to off yourself with a razor blade; none of us are willing to run the risk of that happening again! God, Quatre, think!" Fury raced behind Duo's eyes, and Quatre had to look away from what he saw there.
After a moment he tried again. "I'm not going to fall apart."
"Yeah, that's what we thought the last time, too, but you did. And I'm not blaming you for it. You couldn't help it. But, Quatre, if you'd just stop to think for one minute, you'd have realized we've all been pussyfooting around you for the last month, holding our breaths, waiting for you to freak out again-"
"I'm not going to freak out!"
"More bullshit! What the Hell do you call that stunt you pulled last night, huh? You lied, Quatre, not just to Sally, or me, but you lied to Trowa. You lied to the guy you promised to stop lying to! What do you expect him to think? What, that you were just having a bad fucking day?! You scared the shit out of him. The poor guy was beside himself after you had to be conveniently doped up into oblivion. Now you listen to me. I watched your man look almost as lost and scared as the night he had to nearly rape you! You do the math, Quatre. You fucked up big time, Q, and Trowa's the one who's going to suffer for it!"
Quatre dropped his head into his hands, defeat coursing through him. Duo was right. He'd withheld the truth from Trowa, hoping to protect the children, and all he'd ended up doing was terrifying his friends and hurting Trowa in the process. He felt the old feelings of unworthiness wash over him before he pushed them away. He was worthy of Trowa, but not if he acted like this!
"I'm-I'm sorry, Duo. You're right. I didn't think things though last night. All I saw was Shingam and Killashandra, and I ignored everything else. I didn't consider how my actions would affect everyone else.
"And you're right about Trowa. I took advantage of him last night, and even before that. When he didn't protest my search for the children, I just assumed he wanted them as well. I'm not excusing my actions, but like you said, none of you have really said anything about my.obsession with getting them home safely. I didn't realize you didn't want them here-"
"Hey, that's not what I said." Duo had calmed down considerably and now moved to sit next to Quatre on the couch. "I said you didn't ask us. I didn't say we don't want them here. It's strange, not knowing if that cute little girl is going to brain fry us while we're sleeping, but that doesn't mean we don't look at her and not want to help her and Shingam. And yeah, maybe you're right about the whole don't ask don't tell thing we've had going on for the last few weeks. So maybe what we need to do is some good, old-fashioned, damage control." He smiled at Quatre, a sight that caused the blonde to relax a little.
"What do you suggest?"
"Well, for starters, I'm telling you exactly what I think of you from now on." He smiled to show his joke. "Secondly, you are sitting down with your man and hashing this thing out. The two of you need to sit down, and you gotta explain to Trowa that it's ok if he screams and throws things at you every now and then." Quatre chuckled at the image that presented. "Quatre, the most important thing right now is that you never, ever pull a stupid stunt like that again. It's too soon after that whole my-mind-is-a- piece-of-devious-Swiss-cheese, thing. You're going to give us all heart- attacks if you keep this up."
He nodded. "I understand. And you need to promise to tell me when I do something that upsets you. From now on, no catering to me. I'm fine; Corinne's even said so. My mind is fairly hole-free, and I'm working on the ones that are still left. I'm not going to break."
"Yeah, I'd say after the tongue lashing I just gave you, you would have been a pile of goo by now if your head wasn't securely fastened. So good-- now that we've gotten that all cleared up, I suggest you sit there like a good boy, wait for Trowa to come home, and then drag his sorry ass out and beg him for forgiveness."
Flinching at Duo's return to his problem with Trowa, Quatre nodded. "You don't have any idea what he's talking to Corinne about, do you? He's been so adamant about us talking together. Duo, I've told him every single thing that's been wrong with me for the last twenty years. I have been talking to him. Last night was probably the very first time I've withheld any information from Trowa about myself for a long time. I don't understand why all of a sudden he's telling me I've changed and then talking to Corinne at nine o'clock in the morning! I mean, the man doesn't even start to roll over in his sleep until at least ten!"
"Calm down, Quatre. Look, maybe it's just something Trowa can't talk to you about. Just like there's some stuff you don't tell him. Hey, calm down. I heard you tell me you've told him about everything, but I doubt you mean--everything! I told you already, Corinne and Trowa started talking about something I couldn't follow before she started reassuring him that you were a real dick but hadn't slipped off the beaten path. I'm sure they're talking about that. Anyway, when he gets here you can ask him. In the mean time, I've got two suggestions for you. One, go get something to eat before you have to go into Sally's den of medical horrors and endure the dermal-regenerator and lose your lunch; two, leave the rug-rats with me, and you and Trowa work these kinks out. Go it?"
He nodded. Duo was right, and he was grateful they'd had the "talk." Now all that was left was talking to Trowa. He had a sudden sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be as simple as he wanted it to be.
* * *
"Decide what you want, Trowa. You can't have it both ways. You either want Quatre back the way he was, or you want him to continue to be the man he's become."
"Corinne, it isn't up to me. Quatre's already decided who he is; what I need to do is figure this all out."
"Nope. Wrong. What you don't seem to understand is Quatre will become anything you want him to be. You wanted him to get better, to come to you when he needed you, and now he does. If you want it the other way, back to before, when Quatre told you everything was ok and took care of you without any thought for himself; then all you have to do is tell him that. He'll become what you want him to be."
"That's absurd! I want Quatre to be healthy; I want him to be happy and himself. Besides, he's already become the person he's supposed to be. He fought all his demons, and this is the man he is. I have to deal with that."
"Are you just pulling these idiotic things out of the air?! Quatre will conform to whatever you want him to be. I don't know how many times I've already told you: the guy lives for you! You die, he's not going to wait around for eighty years to follow you; he's going right behind you. Get the idea? If you don't like the new Quatre, the one who tells you his faults, admits his weaknesses and expects a measure of compassion in return, then tell him, and I guarantee you in less than a day you'll have your old lover back. For how long, I'm not sure. It's too hard to tell right now if his desire to please you is greater than his desire to never go back to the way things were. I suppose I could talk to him about it-"
"No. You won't." Trowa's voice was deathly still, and the rage and confusion that raced through him was barely held in check.
The session had started out with them discussing the events of the night before. Corinne took over a half an hour to explain the ins and outs of why Quatre was not about to slip. Their discussion had turned heated when Corinne had felt Quatre flair the link, only to find that Trowa did not answer. She'd questioned his motives, and when he hadn't been able to completely explain, she'd offered to take a look for him. He'd been reluctant to allow her to sift through his emotions, especially when he didn't know what they truly were; but that very thought had prompted him to allow the scan; he needed to know the truth. And it hadn't been pretty.
She hadn't been upset with him at first, explaining that it was normal for people to want things to go back to what they thought was "normal." Corinne explained-twice-that his feelings of being lost around Quatre were valid.
Before that fateful day in the conference room, when Quatre had told his twenty-nine sisters where to go, Trowa had been the one happily basking in all of Quatre's affection. He'd never wanted for anything, and his partner portrayed a strong and competent man that was capable of conquering the world, let alone taking care of him. But all of that changed. Quatre began to need him in ways he'd never been needed before, and suddenly he'd been dropped into the capacity of "Quatre Caretaker", and he hadn't been ready. But he'd dumbied his way thought it, giving to Quatre blindly all that he'd had. Corinne explained that it was only natural of him to expect that when Quatre got better, things would go back to the way they'd been.
But that wasn't natural--wasn't even allowable! Trowa would die before putting Quatre back into the position that had caused him to literally try and kill himself. Did he look at Quatre and see a different person than the man he fell in love with? Yes! Did he wish Quatre was that strong and powerful person he'd pretended to be before? Yes! Did he love the new and healthy Quatre? Of course! Was he, in, love with him? God, he didn't know.
"Trowa, listen to me. Having feelings of doubt is one thing, being confused and scared about the way things have turned out is another, but you'd better think long and hard about what you want. Because whatever you decided is what Quatre's going to do. You see him as weak now, and that's alright. Compared to the way he was, you have every right to feel that way. But in time you'll learn that in fact Quatre's a much stronger person than he was before; but to be that stronger person, you have to help. Understand? This isn't a one way street anymore. The both of you have to participate, or you're not going to get anywhere but stuck in the mud.
"You both need to sit down and decide what you both want. Trowa! I understand that; I know you would never intentionally harm Quatre. But guess what buster? The two of you are linked, and it's only a matter of time before Quatre catches on to the fact that you're not satisfied. And honestly, Trowa, what do you think he's going to do? Just say to hell with it and keep going? No. He's going to stop and think back to the last time you were really happy, and you know what he's going to find? Yep, the Quatre of eight months ago; and you're no fool, Trowa, you can figure the rest out."
Corinne sat back in her chair, arms crossed. She regarded him with a cold expression that spoke volumes to him; Corinne thought he was going to destroy Quatre all over again. And suddenly Trowa didn't know if she was wrong.
Defeated, he slumped into the chair and brought his hand to his face. Closing his eyes, he willed the traitorous thoughts from his mind, begged the last decent part of himself to think of Quatre first, to love more than he needed to be loved. And for the first time in a very long time, Trowa felt silent tears fall from his eyes. What kind of monster was he?
They sat in silence for a long moment, Corinne long since looking regretful but unwilling to take back the truth. He continued to stare into nothing, not even bothering to berate himself anymore. He knew what he was.
A sudden box of Kleenex was pushed into his line of sight, and he took the offered tissue, drying his eyes.
"If you could make Quatre any way you wanted him to be--if you could form him from clay and make the perfect partner, what would he be like? What qualities would he have?"
Trowa stared at her blankly.
"For example, would he be tall or short?"
Thinking the question ludicrous, Trowa shook his head.
"Come on, Trowa. If you could design the perfect Quatre to spend the rest of your life with would he be tall or short? There isn't a wrong answer."
Hesitantly, he answered. "Short."
"Ok, good. Now, what color hair would he have? Really, you can give him whatever color you'd like."
With less hesitation than before, "Blonde."
"Why blonde?"
Confused he shrugged. "I like him blonde."
"Good answer. Ok, now would he be, skinny or fat?"
"Somewhere in between."
"What color eyes?"
"Same. Blue. Clear blue."
"Rich or poor?"
"Doesn't matter."
"But if you had to choose."
"I suppose rich."
Corinne nodded. "It's a lot easier to be taken care of when there's money to be had, isn't it?"
He nodded, but now utterly confused as to what Corinne was getting at.
She continued. "Ok, so we're looking at a short, blonde, blue eyed, not skinny and not fat Quatre who's still rich. What about sex, male or female?"
Stunned, Trowa watched Corinne watch him. Finally he offered a weak smile. "Male."
"I think you're lying."
He looked at her confused.
"I think half of the things you just said were lies, and I doubt you even know you were doing it. For example, I doubt you would make Quatre short if you had the power to change that, and I also doubt you'd have him between skinny and fat. Instead I think you'd make him tall, gigantic, and heavy set, not fat, but stout, imposing. And would you like to know why?"
He didn't have to nod she was going to tell him.
"Because the way you described him, he can't protect you from that haunting sound that always seemed to come first. The tinkle of broken glass before the flaps of your tent were ripped open, and one of the members of that mercenary team walked through and raped you."
Trowa's heart stopped, the blood dying cold in his veins.
"Short, non-muscular, rich guys usually tend to just buy expensive sports cars and be done with it. They don't rely on muscle to accomplish things. But you've only known one type of protection, Trowa. If it isn't done by force, then it's rarely done. And Quatre knew this, knew it was what you wanted. So he ignored the car, and instead lied to you and made you think he was capable of giving you all the comfort and safety without really needing any back. But his lies caught up with him, and he's not that strong capable person he told you he was. That's what you have to deal with, Trowa. You have to decide if you can move beyond the lies and broken promises to start something new. We spent all that time getting Quatre to trust you that we forgot to make sure that you could trust him. If you could handle the change in seeming protection."
Stunned at Corinne's bluntness and frightened by the picture she painted, Trowa sat silently for a moment, analyzing and shuddering at the realization that she was so very right. He tried to protest the one thing that sounded off. "I do trust him, Corinne. I love Quatre more than life itself."
"You know what? I love chocolate, too, but I'm not prepared to spend the rest of my life loving a Snickers Bar. I love chocolate, but it doesn't mean I'm in love with chocolate. Catch the difference?"
He nodded. It had been the same thing he'd been thinking about, and it terrified him.
Corinne sighed. "Trowa, I know you love Quatre; and more importantly you know you love him. And it's ok to wonder if he's going to be there when you need him--if he can offer you the kind of love and affection you need. The problem is you know he can, and you're still floundering. He is never, not going to need you again. For the rest of your lives together, Quatre is going to need you when he needs help-need you to love him and show him. And in return, he'll help you when you need it and love you as much as you love him. But it's a partnership; you both have to give to make it work. Up until this point, Quatre's either given all of himself to you, or you've given all of yourself to him; the two of you have never given at the same time. Now you have to learn to do that, and it's a scary and confusing thing; the lines get blurred, and people get hurt and angry sometimes; but I promise you, Trowa, it's worth it in the end."
He nodded. "I want to find a way to settle this. I told Quatre I'd never leave him, and I meant it. I don't care how I feel, I will never leave him, ever."
"Then it's even more important that we get the two of you straightened out. In that light, you and I are about to become worst enemies. You are now officially my patient, and I expect you to see me on a regular schedule like Quatre. Don't look at me like that. Quatre did a wonderful job helping you cope with your past, but it's time for a professional to polish off his work. I will show you that separately, you both are very strong men, but together, you're safe from everything."
Resigning himself to the therapy, Trowa asked, "You're going to tell Quatre?"
Corinne looked at him like he was crazy. "Uh, no. That's neither my place nor my business. I offer advice and counsel. What you choose to do with that is up to you. If you want Quatre to know how you feel-which I strongly recommend-then tell him. But if you don't, I'm not going to tell him for you. Trust me, the last thing anybody needs is an empathic psychiatrist forced to live with them because they can't talk to each other without a mediator.
"But I'm gonna tell you this until you get it through your head: Quatre is an empath, a very strong and adept one at that. Eventually this thing with the children is going to die down, and Quatre's going to figure out something's wrong. Do you really want him to try and figure it out on his own?"
He shook his head.
"Yeah, didn't think so. That man just doesn't seem to have a very good track record when it comes to fixing his own problems." She smiled at him, and for the first time, Trowa felt a sense of hope. He could do this-- could figure out what skeletons remained in his closet that prevented him from fully accepting the new Quatre. He'd work through it, decide what was wrong, and fix it. It wasn't going to be hard, like fixing his Gundam.
Trowa ignored the fact that the HeavyArms was now little more than a disintegrated hunk of metal.
A sudden and painful weight landed squarely on his stomach, and Quatre was sitting up, yelping at the throbbing pain in his arm and the tiny razor claws that were digging past the bed sheets and into his stomach. Coughing at the scratchiness in his throat, he gently lifted Star from her death like grip and placed the kitten neatly on the floor. The next thing he did was grab the hyperspray next to the bed.
Fifteen minutes later, once the worst of the high had worn off, he gently maneuvered himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He heard the soft tinkle of the bell that rested against Star's collar, a trinket Trowa had picked up a few weeks ago. His partner had awoken one morning and nearly stepped on Star, who'd been trying to follow him into the living room. From that moment on, Star had worn the bell, announcing her exact location.
Lifting the kitten with his good arm, he placed her on the counter where he knew she's stay until he'd shaved and finished the rest of his morning ritual. Aimlessly, she paced the countertop, meowing softly for the attention she knew Quatre would give her. Absently he stroked her white fur before reaching for his toothbrush.
Still brushing his teeth, Quatre walked back into the bedroom and looked at the half-made bed. Trowa was already up. The thought settled oddly in his consciousness as he recalled that today was Saturday, and all the pilots would be relaxing at home. Most days it was hard enough to get Trowa out of bed, but for him to have awoken at-he checked his watch-a quarter to ten- -it was almost unheard of.
Not completely satisfied but willing to wait for the answers, Quatre returned to the bathroom before he opted to forgo the shower because of his bandages, and brushed his light blonde hair with a few quick strokes. Lifting Star carefully, he set her down and moved to the door, waiting for the tiny ball of fur to exit.
"Why your highness, I'm afraid a bath just isn't in the stars for you today. I think you'll just have to make do until Trowa gets over his last attempt at giving you a bath. You naughty kitty, I don't even think you care that poor Trowa insisted I take care of each and every one of those mean scratches you left all over him. You have no consideration, Ms Star. You should be ashamed." Looking at him with a very kitten-like expression, Star only meowed and followed Quatre to the bedroom door. "Well, little missy, we have company now, so you better be on your best behavior."
The door panel moved aside to show the brightly-lit living room. And there, sitting on the couch watching him, was Killashandra, the white tee shirt her only attire. The light of the sun bounced off her snow white, mussed curls, adding a-fairy-in-the-sunlight look to her--that was if she hadn't looked so much like a waif.
Smiling, Quatre moved to the seat beside her. She followed him with her eyes before turning her body to face his once he'd sat down next to her. Star jumped onto the couch then, and Killashandra allowed the kitten to crawl into her lap. She looked puzzled for a moment before she ran her small hand lightly over Star's white fur.
"I think you've just made a new friend, Killa. Star doesn't normally like strangers. In fact, Heero came over once, and Star wouldn't come out of the bathroom the entire time." The girl seemed to ignore him now, engrossed solely in running her hands through Star's long coat of white fluff.
Reaching down, Quatre rubbed a finger under Star's chin, knowing the action would cause the little kitten to purr; he wasn't disappointed. At once the kitten began to vibrate in that way that often caused Trowa to suddenly laugh out of nowhere. Quatre smiled as he remembered finding Trowa on his back, Star perched on his chest. His Trowa had been laughing, really laughing, at the soft vibrations.
But as Quatre watched worriedly, Killashandra pulled both of her hands away and leaned back from the kitten in fear. Quatre quickly moved to reassure her. "Killa, it's ok. Look." He took her small hands in his own and brought them back to brush lightly over the still purring Star. "She won't hurt you. That sound--it's a good sound; it means she's happy. If she's purring, that means she wants you to pet her more. Here, like this." Softly he stroked their hands across Star's extremely happy form. Again and again, he traced their hands, until finally he let hers go and watched as she continued.
She seemed so small, so helpless and dependent--a little lost girl, too terrified by the world to ask for help. Her hands had been so tiny in his own--delicate--like fine china; and the thought that she needed him ran though his head over and over. She and Shingam needed him, and he wasn't going to let them down.
Smiling to himself at the beautiful picture Killashandra and Star made, he brushed an errant curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He watched her for a while longer--just watching the rhythmic movement of her hands.
"You know, Killa, you and Star have almost the same hair color. I think it's the most beautiful shade I've ever seen. It's very pretty." But it was like speaking to someone who wasn't there. Killashandra didn't acknowledge his presence after that first initial look; and a while later he moved from the couch to the spare room to check on Shingam.
The boy lay where he'd been the night before. His usual stone cold expression seemed less severe in sleep, more like that of any five year old boy. Quatre watched with fascination at the gentle rise and fall of his young charge's chest; he couldn't help the sigh of relief that passed from his lips; they really were safe now.
Shutting the door behind him, he moved back to the couch and watched Killashandra play with Star. The kitten really did not like strangers, and he was relieved that she seemed to have taken so well to the small girl.
Standing he moved to the console on the wall and keyed in his code. "Locate Barton, Trowa." He waited as the tracker searched the complex for his early rising partner.
"Barton, Trowa is unavailable."
"Unavailable?" Not understanding the machine's response, he repeated the inquiry before receiving the exact same answer. More than a little worried now, Quatre opened the link and waited for Trowa's answering presence. He received none.
Nervous, Quatre moved to the couch, only to find Killashandra had abandoned Star to watch him with focused attention. Gathering her to him, Quatre debated leaving her in the room with Shingam but decided against it, feeling more comfortable having the small child with him.
Keying the unlock code into the doorway, Quatre was stunned to see Duo-hand poised over the keypad-directly in front of him.
"Whoa man, you totally scared me! It's too early to be doing that, Quatre, and on a Saturday no less!"
"Duo, what are you doing here? And what are you doing awake?" The second question seemed more important than the first. He and Heero shared a love of the morning, while Trowa and Duo preferred the late hours of the night. They'd had to threaten to leave Duo at more than one club around two in the morning--more than once.
"Oh, you know. I just thought I'd drop by."
"Duo, it's barely ten o'clock. You don't even get up until noon, and you know Trowa doesn't get up until around eleven. What are you doing up so early?"
"What is this, the third degree? Can't your best friend just drop by for an early morning cup of tea?"
"Is my best friend dying?"
"Um, no?"
"Then no, he can't just stop by at ten in the morning for a cup of tea. It's physically impossible for him." Quatre smiled at the joke and moved aside for Duo to enter. "You don't happen to know where Trowa is, do you?"
Duo was known for hiding his discomfort behind the mask of a jester, but Quatre had learned to read Trowa's often minute facial expressions; the slight tensing in Duo's shoulders told him all he needed to know.
"Where is he, Duo?" Killashandra still wrapped in his arms, he looked expectantly at his friend, waiting for an answer.
Turning slightly, Duo reached out and took the child from his arms and set her on the floor. Together they watched her move back towards the living room, only to sit next to the coffee table and again play with Star.
"So the manic kitten's taken to her, has she?"
"Duo, what do you know?"
He watched his friend take in a deep breath before giving a nod and moving towards the couch. Quatre followed close behind him. After pouring them each a cup of tea, Duo moved to sit next to Quatre; in silence they watched Killashandra play with the feisty kitten.
"Shingam still sleeping?"
He nodded. "I checked on him a little while ago. He doesn't look so.severe when he's sleeping."
Duo nodded his head a few times. The next moment of silence was not so comfortable.
"Duo, what's going on, and where's Trowa?"
"Can't you, ya know, sense him or something?"
He only wished he could. The alarming turn of events had the back of his neck prickling.
"He's-he's not allowing his half of the link to open. I'm worried about him."
Again, Duo nodded his head a few times. "He's cool, Q. Actually that's why I'm really here. Trowa's off doing something, and I decided we could have some quality 'friend' time together. You know, talk or something; we haven't really had a chance to do that much." There was a note of sadness in Duo's voice, and Quatre had to agree that they'd had very few occasions to just hang out together since this whole mess had started.
"I'm sorry things have been so convoluted lately. But with the children and-"
"See, Quatre, that's what I'm talking about! It's always something with you!" Taken aback by Duo's harsh tone, Quatre watched speechlessly as Duo stood and moved over to the window. "These kids--I know they're important to you, but, man, I think you've gotten your priorities all screwed up! I mean, poor Trowa's a mess and-"
"What do you mean, 'a mess'?" A thinly veiled panic settled over him and Quatre nearly rose from his seat.
"Relax. Just sit there and let me bitch you out in peace." He waited until Quatre had settled back into the couch before continuing. "Ok, here's the deal. Trowa went to see Corinne-"
"What?!"
"I said shut up and let me talk! Don't make me gag you in front of the kid!" He gestured wildly towards Killashandra, who was still acting as if they didn't even exist. "Now listen. Trowa went to see Corinne. Last night, after you pulled that arm bullshit, Trowa went all quiet and scary. Corinne must have picked up on something because she started talking to him about stuff I didn't understand. Next thing I know she starts making sense, and I start getting totally pissed off at you!" He nearly slammed his coffee mug down to make his point.
"What-what did I do?"
"Oh don't pull that innocent bullshit on me Quatre. I'm you're best friend- -give a guy a little credit. That stunt you pulled last night-I don't think you've really had a chance to think it through yet. So why don't you just sit there nice and quiet like and realized what an asshole you were, not only to Trowa, but everyone else who's helped you these last few months!"
Not knowing what to say at Duo's uncharacteristic anger, Quatre just sat there dumbfounded. Duo didn't make him sit long.
"Nothing? Can't figure it out? Let me explain. Oh man, where should I start? Oh, ok, how about I just start numbering them off for you? No objections? Good. One: you drag the lot of us into the depths of outer space to track down two kids who may have been genetically created to kill us! Two: you somehow manage to get Trowa to bring said kids back to Earth to live in your spare bedroom. Three: did you even ask if Trowa wanted two kids running a muck in his stuff? Nope, didn't think so. Four: not only do you get injured getting the kids, but then you lie about the pain. Great confidence booster for the rest of us, ne Quatre? Five: don't even get me started about last night! If I was Trowa I would have pounded some sense into you and made you suffer. As it is, you got off way too easy, man, and you know why? Because Trowa's too afraid to say a single thing to you; he's too terrified out of his mind that you'll slip again and take a one way trip off a building! Stop and think for just five seconds about what you've put the rest of us through! Damn it!"
Falling silent, Duo looked away from him in disgust and stared out the window. But Quatre didn't have that luxury; his mind raced with the things Duo had told him, the emotions he'd unwittingly showed him.
He'd just assumed that Trowa wanted to find the children--that they all had. He'd been so adamant about it for weeks; they nearly left the same day they'd figured out where the children were. But had he missed something? Obviously! Duo had just told him-in no uncertain terms-that the others had not intended to search out the children. His mind reeled at the idea that Trowa had not wanted the children to stay with them. He'd just assumed-and therein lay the problem.
He saw it crystal clear, like a light being turned on in his head. He'd assumed too much, took for granted too much. When Trowa had offered no protest to his plans of having the children stay with them, he'd foolishly assumed that that was what Trowa wanted as well. But here was his best friend, telling him he'd messed up. But why hadn't anyone said anything?
"If-if that's all true, then why didn't you tell me sooner, before the children were here? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"What the hell did you expect us to say? We're still all in the same boat as Trowa! Quatre, the last time you supposedly 'recovered' you lasted about a month before trying to off yourself with a razor blade; none of us are willing to run the risk of that happening again! God, Quatre, think!" Fury raced behind Duo's eyes, and Quatre had to look away from what he saw there.
After a moment he tried again. "I'm not going to fall apart."
"Yeah, that's what we thought the last time, too, but you did. And I'm not blaming you for it. You couldn't help it. But, Quatre, if you'd just stop to think for one minute, you'd have realized we've all been pussyfooting around you for the last month, holding our breaths, waiting for you to freak out again-"
"I'm not going to freak out!"
"More bullshit! What the Hell do you call that stunt you pulled last night, huh? You lied, Quatre, not just to Sally, or me, but you lied to Trowa. You lied to the guy you promised to stop lying to! What do you expect him to think? What, that you were just having a bad fucking day?! You scared the shit out of him. The poor guy was beside himself after you had to be conveniently doped up into oblivion. Now you listen to me. I watched your man look almost as lost and scared as the night he had to nearly rape you! You do the math, Quatre. You fucked up big time, Q, and Trowa's the one who's going to suffer for it!"
Quatre dropped his head into his hands, defeat coursing through him. Duo was right. He'd withheld the truth from Trowa, hoping to protect the children, and all he'd ended up doing was terrifying his friends and hurting Trowa in the process. He felt the old feelings of unworthiness wash over him before he pushed them away. He was worthy of Trowa, but not if he acted like this!
"I'm-I'm sorry, Duo. You're right. I didn't think things though last night. All I saw was Shingam and Killashandra, and I ignored everything else. I didn't consider how my actions would affect everyone else.
"And you're right about Trowa. I took advantage of him last night, and even before that. When he didn't protest my search for the children, I just assumed he wanted them as well. I'm not excusing my actions, but like you said, none of you have really said anything about my.obsession with getting them home safely. I didn't realize you didn't want them here-"
"Hey, that's not what I said." Duo had calmed down considerably and now moved to sit next to Quatre on the couch. "I said you didn't ask us. I didn't say we don't want them here. It's strange, not knowing if that cute little girl is going to brain fry us while we're sleeping, but that doesn't mean we don't look at her and not want to help her and Shingam. And yeah, maybe you're right about the whole don't ask don't tell thing we've had going on for the last few weeks. So maybe what we need to do is some good, old-fashioned, damage control." He smiled at Quatre, a sight that caused the blonde to relax a little.
"What do you suggest?"
"Well, for starters, I'm telling you exactly what I think of you from now on." He smiled to show his joke. "Secondly, you are sitting down with your man and hashing this thing out. The two of you need to sit down, and you gotta explain to Trowa that it's ok if he screams and throws things at you every now and then." Quatre chuckled at the image that presented. "Quatre, the most important thing right now is that you never, ever pull a stupid stunt like that again. It's too soon after that whole my-mind-is-a- piece-of-devious-Swiss-cheese, thing. You're going to give us all heart- attacks if you keep this up."
He nodded. "I understand. And you need to promise to tell me when I do something that upsets you. From now on, no catering to me. I'm fine; Corinne's even said so. My mind is fairly hole-free, and I'm working on the ones that are still left. I'm not going to break."
"Yeah, I'd say after the tongue lashing I just gave you, you would have been a pile of goo by now if your head wasn't securely fastened. So good-- now that we've gotten that all cleared up, I suggest you sit there like a good boy, wait for Trowa to come home, and then drag his sorry ass out and beg him for forgiveness."
Flinching at Duo's return to his problem with Trowa, Quatre nodded. "You don't have any idea what he's talking to Corinne about, do you? He's been so adamant about us talking together. Duo, I've told him every single thing that's been wrong with me for the last twenty years. I have been talking to him. Last night was probably the very first time I've withheld any information from Trowa about myself for a long time. I don't understand why all of a sudden he's telling me I've changed and then talking to Corinne at nine o'clock in the morning! I mean, the man doesn't even start to roll over in his sleep until at least ten!"
"Calm down, Quatre. Look, maybe it's just something Trowa can't talk to you about. Just like there's some stuff you don't tell him. Hey, calm down. I heard you tell me you've told him about everything, but I doubt you mean--everything! I told you already, Corinne and Trowa started talking about something I couldn't follow before she started reassuring him that you were a real dick but hadn't slipped off the beaten path. I'm sure they're talking about that. Anyway, when he gets here you can ask him. In the mean time, I've got two suggestions for you. One, go get something to eat before you have to go into Sally's den of medical horrors and endure the dermal-regenerator and lose your lunch; two, leave the rug-rats with me, and you and Trowa work these kinks out. Go it?"
He nodded. Duo was right, and he was grateful they'd had the "talk." Now all that was left was talking to Trowa. He had a sudden sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be as simple as he wanted it to be.
* * *
"Decide what you want, Trowa. You can't have it both ways. You either want Quatre back the way he was, or you want him to continue to be the man he's become."
"Corinne, it isn't up to me. Quatre's already decided who he is; what I need to do is figure this all out."
"Nope. Wrong. What you don't seem to understand is Quatre will become anything you want him to be. You wanted him to get better, to come to you when he needed you, and now he does. If you want it the other way, back to before, when Quatre told you everything was ok and took care of you without any thought for himself; then all you have to do is tell him that. He'll become what you want him to be."
"That's absurd! I want Quatre to be healthy; I want him to be happy and himself. Besides, he's already become the person he's supposed to be. He fought all his demons, and this is the man he is. I have to deal with that."
"Are you just pulling these idiotic things out of the air?! Quatre will conform to whatever you want him to be. I don't know how many times I've already told you: the guy lives for you! You die, he's not going to wait around for eighty years to follow you; he's going right behind you. Get the idea? If you don't like the new Quatre, the one who tells you his faults, admits his weaknesses and expects a measure of compassion in return, then tell him, and I guarantee you in less than a day you'll have your old lover back. For how long, I'm not sure. It's too hard to tell right now if his desire to please you is greater than his desire to never go back to the way things were. I suppose I could talk to him about it-"
"No. You won't." Trowa's voice was deathly still, and the rage and confusion that raced through him was barely held in check.
The session had started out with them discussing the events of the night before. Corinne took over a half an hour to explain the ins and outs of why Quatre was not about to slip. Their discussion had turned heated when Corinne had felt Quatre flair the link, only to find that Trowa did not answer. She'd questioned his motives, and when he hadn't been able to completely explain, she'd offered to take a look for him. He'd been reluctant to allow her to sift through his emotions, especially when he didn't know what they truly were; but that very thought had prompted him to allow the scan; he needed to know the truth. And it hadn't been pretty.
She hadn't been upset with him at first, explaining that it was normal for people to want things to go back to what they thought was "normal." Corinne explained-twice-that his feelings of being lost around Quatre were valid.
Before that fateful day in the conference room, when Quatre had told his twenty-nine sisters where to go, Trowa had been the one happily basking in all of Quatre's affection. He'd never wanted for anything, and his partner portrayed a strong and competent man that was capable of conquering the world, let alone taking care of him. But all of that changed. Quatre began to need him in ways he'd never been needed before, and suddenly he'd been dropped into the capacity of "Quatre Caretaker", and he hadn't been ready. But he'd dumbied his way thought it, giving to Quatre blindly all that he'd had. Corinne explained that it was only natural of him to expect that when Quatre got better, things would go back to the way they'd been.
But that wasn't natural--wasn't even allowable! Trowa would die before putting Quatre back into the position that had caused him to literally try and kill himself. Did he look at Quatre and see a different person than the man he fell in love with? Yes! Did he wish Quatre was that strong and powerful person he'd pretended to be before? Yes! Did he love the new and healthy Quatre? Of course! Was he, in, love with him? God, he didn't know.
"Trowa, listen to me. Having feelings of doubt is one thing, being confused and scared about the way things have turned out is another, but you'd better think long and hard about what you want. Because whatever you decided is what Quatre's going to do. You see him as weak now, and that's alright. Compared to the way he was, you have every right to feel that way. But in time you'll learn that in fact Quatre's a much stronger person than he was before; but to be that stronger person, you have to help. Understand? This isn't a one way street anymore. The both of you have to participate, or you're not going to get anywhere but stuck in the mud.
"You both need to sit down and decide what you both want. Trowa! I understand that; I know you would never intentionally harm Quatre. But guess what buster? The two of you are linked, and it's only a matter of time before Quatre catches on to the fact that you're not satisfied. And honestly, Trowa, what do you think he's going to do? Just say to hell with it and keep going? No. He's going to stop and think back to the last time you were really happy, and you know what he's going to find? Yep, the Quatre of eight months ago; and you're no fool, Trowa, you can figure the rest out."
Corinne sat back in her chair, arms crossed. She regarded him with a cold expression that spoke volumes to him; Corinne thought he was going to destroy Quatre all over again. And suddenly Trowa didn't know if she was wrong.
Defeated, he slumped into the chair and brought his hand to his face. Closing his eyes, he willed the traitorous thoughts from his mind, begged the last decent part of himself to think of Quatre first, to love more than he needed to be loved. And for the first time in a very long time, Trowa felt silent tears fall from his eyes. What kind of monster was he?
They sat in silence for a long moment, Corinne long since looking regretful but unwilling to take back the truth. He continued to stare into nothing, not even bothering to berate himself anymore. He knew what he was.
A sudden box of Kleenex was pushed into his line of sight, and he took the offered tissue, drying his eyes.
"If you could make Quatre any way you wanted him to be--if you could form him from clay and make the perfect partner, what would he be like? What qualities would he have?"
Trowa stared at her blankly.
"For example, would he be tall or short?"
Thinking the question ludicrous, Trowa shook his head.
"Come on, Trowa. If you could design the perfect Quatre to spend the rest of your life with would he be tall or short? There isn't a wrong answer."
Hesitantly, he answered. "Short."
"Ok, good. Now, what color hair would he have? Really, you can give him whatever color you'd like."
With less hesitation than before, "Blonde."
"Why blonde?"
Confused he shrugged. "I like him blonde."
"Good answer. Ok, now would he be, skinny or fat?"
"Somewhere in between."
"What color eyes?"
"Same. Blue. Clear blue."
"Rich or poor?"
"Doesn't matter."
"But if you had to choose."
"I suppose rich."
Corinne nodded. "It's a lot easier to be taken care of when there's money to be had, isn't it?"
He nodded, but now utterly confused as to what Corinne was getting at.
She continued. "Ok, so we're looking at a short, blonde, blue eyed, not skinny and not fat Quatre who's still rich. What about sex, male or female?"
Stunned, Trowa watched Corinne watch him. Finally he offered a weak smile. "Male."
"I think you're lying."
He looked at her confused.
"I think half of the things you just said were lies, and I doubt you even know you were doing it. For example, I doubt you would make Quatre short if you had the power to change that, and I also doubt you'd have him between skinny and fat. Instead I think you'd make him tall, gigantic, and heavy set, not fat, but stout, imposing. And would you like to know why?"
He didn't have to nod she was going to tell him.
"Because the way you described him, he can't protect you from that haunting sound that always seemed to come first. The tinkle of broken glass before the flaps of your tent were ripped open, and one of the members of that mercenary team walked through and raped you."
Trowa's heart stopped, the blood dying cold in his veins.
"Short, non-muscular, rich guys usually tend to just buy expensive sports cars and be done with it. They don't rely on muscle to accomplish things. But you've only known one type of protection, Trowa. If it isn't done by force, then it's rarely done. And Quatre knew this, knew it was what you wanted. So he ignored the car, and instead lied to you and made you think he was capable of giving you all the comfort and safety without really needing any back. But his lies caught up with him, and he's not that strong capable person he told you he was. That's what you have to deal with, Trowa. You have to decide if you can move beyond the lies and broken promises to start something new. We spent all that time getting Quatre to trust you that we forgot to make sure that you could trust him. If you could handle the change in seeming protection."
Stunned at Corinne's bluntness and frightened by the picture she painted, Trowa sat silently for a moment, analyzing and shuddering at the realization that she was so very right. He tried to protest the one thing that sounded off. "I do trust him, Corinne. I love Quatre more than life itself."
"You know what? I love chocolate, too, but I'm not prepared to spend the rest of my life loving a Snickers Bar. I love chocolate, but it doesn't mean I'm in love with chocolate. Catch the difference?"
He nodded. It had been the same thing he'd been thinking about, and it terrified him.
Corinne sighed. "Trowa, I know you love Quatre; and more importantly you know you love him. And it's ok to wonder if he's going to be there when you need him--if he can offer you the kind of love and affection you need. The problem is you know he can, and you're still floundering. He is never, not going to need you again. For the rest of your lives together, Quatre is going to need you when he needs help-need you to love him and show him. And in return, he'll help you when you need it and love you as much as you love him. But it's a partnership; you both have to give to make it work. Up until this point, Quatre's either given all of himself to you, or you've given all of yourself to him; the two of you have never given at the same time. Now you have to learn to do that, and it's a scary and confusing thing; the lines get blurred, and people get hurt and angry sometimes; but I promise you, Trowa, it's worth it in the end."
He nodded. "I want to find a way to settle this. I told Quatre I'd never leave him, and I meant it. I don't care how I feel, I will never leave him, ever."
"Then it's even more important that we get the two of you straightened out. In that light, you and I are about to become worst enemies. You are now officially my patient, and I expect you to see me on a regular schedule like Quatre. Don't look at me like that. Quatre did a wonderful job helping you cope with your past, but it's time for a professional to polish off his work. I will show you that separately, you both are very strong men, but together, you're safe from everything."
Resigning himself to the therapy, Trowa asked, "You're going to tell Quatre?"
Corinne looked at him like he was crazy. "Uh, no. That's neither my place nor my business. I offer advice and counsel. What you choose to do with that is up to you. If you want Quatre to know how you feel-which I strongly recommend-then tell him. But if you don't, I'm not going to tell him for you. Trust me, the last thing anybody needs is an empathic psychiatrist forced to live with them because they can't talk to each other without a mediator.
"But I'm gonna tell you this until you get it through your head: Quatre is an empath, a very strong and adept one at that. Eventually this thing with the children is going to die down, and Quatre's going to figure out something's wrong. Do you really want him to try and figure it out on his own?"
He shook his head.
"Yeah, didn't think so. That man just doesn't seem to have a very good track record when it comes to fixing his own problems." She smiled at him, and for the first time, Trowa felt a sense of hope. He could do this-- could figure out what skeletons remained in his closet that prevented him from fully accepting the new Quatre. He'd work through it, decide what was wrong, and fix it. It wasn't going to be hard, like fixing his Gundam.
Trowa ignored the fact that the HeavyArms was now little more than a disintegrated hunk of metal.