"I'm so tired I might sleep right through Christmas." Corinne lay
lengthwise across the second couch she'd installed in her office for this
session; Quatre lay likewise on the other.
He tried a weak smile, but when he realized she had her eyes closed, he gave up. "I know what you mean. Unfortunately, I think if I tried, not only would my own children wake me up, but so would Marieminna and Duo! But I think I am going to go to bed and sleep until sometime tomorrow afternoon. That should still leave plenty of time for the Christmas Eve party Duo's having."
"Oh shoot, I forgot all about that. Damn, I don't suppose he'd let me out of it either."
"Probably a safe bet."
Since nine o'clock this morning, he and Corinne had been engaged in a session unlike any other, either had been through. Together they'd desperately tried to sweep the most dangerous of emotions from Quatre's memory while preventing his conscious mind from coming in contact with them. It was tedious and dangerous work. In fact, Lady Une had insisted that Marieminna go to her mother's house in New America for the day; so that in the event something went wrong, at least she'd be spared. But nothing had gone wrong, and now in the aftermath of an exhausting session, both patient and doctor lay spent and ready for a vacation.
Last night had been a nightmare. Sekurra's little present had uncovered the most hanous of crimes against him. Trowa in all his infinite patients had wrestled with Quatre's disbelief and outrage while explaining what the psychiatrist had done to him all those years ago. Most of it Quatre still couldn't quite comprehend. He understood the emotional turmoil, he'd helped Corinne clear it out of his mind for the last six hours; but because he couldn't witness the vid for himself, he was left in the dark as to how bad it really was. Trowa had tried to explain to him what he'd seen, but without seeing it himself it was hard for him to understand the complex emotions he sensed from Trowa. He figured most of it had to do with the three segments that had followed.
He'd seen those. Trowa and the others had sat patiently again as he watched his sister find him in that hated room. He'd been so surprised when he'd learned that Cijen had covered for his sisters; even to the point of disbelieving the vid. Seeafa had helped Cijen care for him, and Iria had been studying medicine on a remote colony; at least that's what he'd been told. But the vid showed clearly that Iria was close by, but had refused to come, and indeed, Seeafa had simply run away.
And Cijen, his most beloved sister. He didn't even have to watch the vid, only listen to her voice and remember the pain she'd been in when she'd found him. Even after all these years, he could still remember the pain and fear that had rolled off of her on that fateful night she'd rescued him from Hell.
But the vid's second segment had thrown him into a rage. All this time, all along he'd never known Cijen had been the reason why his father had never come for him. He'd always assumed his father had cut his losses, only now to find out that that was far from the truth. But that wasn't what had enraged him, he could truly have cared less; but Cijen had put herself in danger, stood against their father for him, and could very well have died for it. A threat to his fortune or even himself did not go over lightly with Raberba Winner. Some frightened part of him had considered just for a moment that his father might very well have killed Cijen if he thought he could have gotten away with it sans repercussions. That was where the rage came from, to think that Cijen would act so carelessly, throw her life around like nothing, all to protect him. He was furious with her, screaming and damning her in their living room. Sally nearly had to administer tranquilizers just to calm him down.
But it hadn't ended there. He'd called Rashid directly after that segment, demanding from the proud man what he knew about Cijen arranging for him to be ambushed by the Maguanacs. At first the giant had said very little, but as Quatre remained more insistent, he told Quatre everything. How Cijen had gone to the Magunac base on Earth and begged them to help her, begged on the grounds that the Magunacs were the descendents of the Sultan's personal guard of old, and Quatre was their responsibility since he would have been future Sultan. At first the argument had not gone over well, but Cijen had refused to give up. She'd presented the vid of Quatre's ordeal in the room, shown them and told them stories of the beatings he'd endured, explained the worthless reasoning behind them; until finally she'd told them the one thing they'd needed to know, that he was empathic. Already curious about this newly emerged talent in humans, the Maguancs agreed to take him in, one to get him away from the abuse as a fellow Arabian, and two, to learn a little more about a gift few of their own people possessed.
Rashid had received a command to ambush the WEI ship and find a way to convince the boy on board to go with him. But Quatre had been so withdrawn and aloof, Rashid hadn't known what to do. But as their own men had betrayed them, Rashid had been stunned to learn that Quatre possessed natural piloting skills, he used that to his advantage and convinced him to join. The rest was history as Quatre knew it.
He'd asked why Rashid had never told him the truth, but the older man had only gotten a far way look in his eye before saying, "I thought about it, but knew you would react badly to it in the beginning. By the time I could have told you, you were already happy here and with Koeran, there seemed little point, Master." Begrudgingly, Quatre had agreed.
But that left the final and perhaps hardest part of the entire vid. The small two minute scene with Koeran. He'd guessed correctly that the vid had been sent by Cijen to Koeran, so that the young man would have a copy of the vid and understand the danger Quatre was in, and what she'd done to protect him. Koeran had most likely witnessed the vid and then tried to record over it, not realizing some special function on the camera to write over password coded sequences. After Koeran had been killed, Quatre had packaged his things together and sent some of them to Cijen for safe keeping. Cijen must have placed the vid in the case with the rest, not realizing what was on it.
There had been such an easy way about their relationship, and Quatre had wept openly in Trowa's arms at the sight of his first lover. There was still so much unresolved pain in Koeran's death; feelings and emotions he didn't think would ever go away.
He'd watched himself as he'd been before and was now, the submissive partner. With Koeran it had been justified, he'd been learning exactly what it meant to be a man, and more than that, a lover. But while he wept in Trowa's arms at his first love's sight, he'd also wept for the empty feeling he had playing the role of the weak one now. Things had been so perfect back then, his role had been correct, and even the years spent with Trowa-it might have been false strength, but his role as leader and protector had been right. Now he was lost and alone, frightened because his role was not right, and his partner refused to see that.
Eventually the vid had ended, and he and Corinne had arranged to meet in the morning to find a way of defusing the mental bomb in his head. The group had eaten in silence and then left, no happiness left from earlier that evening. Trowa had put the children to be before dragging Quatre into their own room for the first time in five days. He'd awoken to nightmares the whole night, finally begging off sleep to watch the segments of the vid that he could, over and over and over again.
Now, exhausted and drained from the sweep, every nerve tingled as he prepared to return to his own quarters. "I'll see you at the party tomorrow."
"Are you sure you're alright? I'm not even sure I'll be able to make it down to the main office to tell Lady she's in the all clear. The trigger's still there, and the bomb is still ticking, but we've erected enough shields that at the very least the only one who could possibly suffer permanent damage would be you. I don't like leaving it like this, but there isn't anything else we can do today, and the rest is going to take a while."
"At least Trowa's safe."
Corinne nodded weakly as she moved to stand, he helped her up. "Yes, the shields protect him from the backlash, he'll be fine. However, remember not to watch that segment of the vid, the others know what not to say, and as long as the trigger isn't directed towards you, you won't be in any danger. Like I said, I hate leaving it like this, but right now we don't have any options."
He inclined his head, agreeing with her. "Do you want me to walk you down to Headquarters?"
"No. No sense in both of us being miserable. Go back to your quarters, and sleep. Tell Trowa if he tries to wake you up, I'll make it a criminal offence and have him thrown in the brig. Do we even have a brig?"
He laughed weakly. "Sort of. I'll tell him, but I doubt it'll be necessary, he'll just have to take one look at me and he'll know I'm tired."
Suddenly, Corinne stopped their progress towards the door. Looking deeply into his eyes, she asked the one question he wished she wouldn't have.
"How are things going between the two of you?"
Not knowing what to say, and being far to tired to get into it, he shrugged his shoulders. "We still need to talk things over, but we're getting there. Let's save this for another day though, Corinne, I'm far too exhausted to think about it all right now, and I know you're too exhausted to listen."
She smiled. "You're probably right. We'll discuss it during another session, but I'm worried about you, I want you to know that."
"And I appreciate it, but I don't want to get into it right now."
"You're lucky I'm too tired to argue with you."
"I know."
They separated at the door, Corinne heading towards Lady Une's office, he heading towards a warm bed. His feet dragged as he shuffled down the hallway, too drained by the rawness of the emotions he'd had to deal with.
With Corinne he'd tried his best not to act as if the past two days had effected him, but that was simply untrue. His mental shields were in rubbles, shifted to cover the precious link he shared with Trowa, pulling away from other areas of his mind to protect his lover.
He was tired, exposed, exhausted, and just plain drained of all his energy. He felt he would burst into tears at any moment, weep his pain at the drop of a hat. So much had happened, and with the barely covered emotions of terror from his unknown childhood experience, it was a wonder he wasn't hiding under a table somewhere.
Chuckling weakly at the thought, he resigned himself to simply hiding under the covers. He'd leave a quick note to Trowa, not to wake him until sometime tomorrow and then climb between the warm blankets and let his mind do a self-sweep as he slept. Reaching his door, he slowly punched in the pass code, his body almost too tired to even lift his hand.
He had the foresight to notice the slip on the door, he had a package.
As the door opened, and he got the first sight of his home, he felt his last remaining shields crumble to dust. He could feel the empathic storm rising, and desperately he grabbed at his heart to hold the pain inside. It was too much, just too much.
In front of him, in bold letters and cheerful script was a banner, strung across the living room. An announcement, a birth announcement.
"IT'S A BOY!"
Everywhere he looked were baby things. A changing table rested in front of the couch. The baby dresser he remembered from his youth was backed up against one wall, the solid oak finish shining in the sun from the windows. A baby cradle sat in the middle, and softly as it rocked back and forth, the sound of cooing could be heard from it. And all around him were toys, toys for every age, from infant to toddler, to childhood wonder. Boxes and boxes of toys were piled ceiling high all over the apartment. The ones on the floor, not in boxes, he recognized, they'd belonged to him.
He heard their voices like screeching sirens.
"You only have five months left for a natural birth."
"A genetic takes half the time, Quatre."
"You want to be a father some day, don't you?"
"If a child is the only way to save our fortune then you'd better do your job and have one!"
"I don't care if it goes against every principle you've ever had in your pathetic life, you will have a child, and you will deliver us from this crisis!"
"It's a child for god's sake, not a business partner, what's the big deal?!"
"You're so worthless, Quatre! All you have to do, all you absolutely have to do, is fuck some woman or jack-off into a cup! How hard is that?!"
"It's just a child, you can do that, it's about money, Quatre, not about the child. The child is nothing more than an inconvenience."
And then he heard his own voice, as he'd talked to Trowa on a night long ago.
"Someday, when we're ready, we'll start a family. A cute genetic on your side. She'll have dark brownish red curls and bright green eyes. Oh Trowa, she'll look just like you, I know she will. Or a boy, a lengthy boy you'll teach all the tricks of the circus trade too. He'd learn back flips and summersaults, and how to walk the tightrope, at least from you. From me, I'd teach him about music and even my company. But I wouldn't force it on him, not like me, I'd let him decide for himself, what exactly he wanted to be. We'll be good parents, great parents someday. You'll see Trowa, you'll see, someday."
And then later, much later.
"What if it never happens Trowa? What if I can never have children with a clear conscious? What if for the rest of my life, anytime I look at a child of mine, I wonder, 'Did I do it for the money?' God Trowa, how could my father do this to me?"
".no.please no.don't do this.anything but this."
He couldn't think, couldn't move, he just stared at the piles and piles of baby things and felt his heart ripped from his heaving chest. Anything but this, anything but the reminder of the one thing he wanted more in the entire world than anything else, but could never have, would never have. A child, a child of his own body, a son or daughter with his hair or eyes. The one thing all the money in the world could never buy him. He would not trade a child's life for a fortune, and in so refusing, condemned himself. A child, it was the one thing he'd never have of his own, and the one thing he secretly craved, maybe even more than Trowa. To be a father, to hold a child in his arms and know half of himself rested in him or her. It was too much, anything but this.
He felt his mind swirl with self-hatred and contempt as he desperately moved against the wall, blindly searching for the com unit. The agony was so over powering, the storm building through his system, crippling. He tripped the last of the way, harsh sobs retched from his throat as he pressed desperately at the controller.
When he heard it beep, he struggled with consciousness for one last cry for help before the storm overtook him.
"Trowa.help me."
* * *
He had to pick up the children.
Sally had taken the day off to finish the last of her Christmas crises and had graciously offered to take Shingam and Killashandra with her. She'd had to promise ice cream and new toys before Shingam had agreed to leave Quatre's sights. The boy was clinging to Quatre more and more, and Trowa could tell that Killashandra was doing the same.
Trowa wasn't stupid, he knew what was coming. Quatre was completely attached to these two children, they all were, and he was no exception. He was counting the days until Quatre suggested they adopt the two. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.
He was only twenty-one, in this advanced day and age, most people didn't start having children until their thirties. He and Quatre were so young, and Trowa couldn't help but wish he could have a little bit more time with Quatre, alone. But all he had to do was look into Killashandra's eyes before he melted completely.
The four year old, might not have yet talked, but she'd somehow managed to find a place so directly in his heart that he had no choice but to snuggle her close when he read to her, or brushed her hair lovingly in the morning. He knew he was falling in love with her, and if he were honest with himself, he already was. Quatre had once said that a couple should have children when the love they had for each other was so large they just had to share it with another. Perhaps that time was now.
He knew what he'd say when Quatre finally asked him, he'd say yes. He'd open his arms and love two children that desperately needed a family, because Quatre wanted them, and so did he.
But with that knowledge came absolute fear. Not a day went by that he didn't fear he'd become somehow angered by the children. Not a day went by that he didn't fear becoming all he'd known of a father. And Trowa knew Quatre felt the same way. Both were so afraid of repeating the mistakes of their pasts, of becoming the men they had hated and feared for so many years. What if he hit them, what if he struck Shingam's beautiful face and then couldn't stop? What if? The fear never ended.
So he'd decided. He would agree, but with that agreement had to come his own piece of mind. He knew somewhere deep inside of himself he was capable of hurting them, and he knew-no mater how he wished to deny it-so was Quatre. So they'd continue the therapy, he'd make Quatre promise at least that. If they were prepared to be parents, then they had to be prepared to put their children before themselves, and that meant they needed to have Corinne or someone else, teach them what it meant to be real parents, ones that didn't beat or rape their children into submission.
He startled out of his reverie as a paper airplane hit him on the forehead.
"What?" He looked up at Duo's bemused eyes.
"What'cha thinkin' about tall, dark and weird?"
He rolled his eyes. With Quatre and Corinne in a session to clear out the unstable emotions in Quatre's mind, he'd opted to go to work to avoid worrying the entire day. The other pilots had joined him, lending support and trying their best to keep his mind off it. Duo had been a chatterbox all day, while Heero had beaten the crap out of him in a three hour game of basketball. Wufei had even shown up, not wanting to go with his fiancé to town; he'd opted to keep Trowa company by railing Duo every chance he got. All in all the day had run quickly and Trowa was waiting for Sally to bring the children back before heading home.
"I was thinking I hope Sally returns quickly."
"Why, getting bored of us?" Duo smiled, knowing he'd exasperated his older friend to no end the entire day.
"Duo, let's play a game."
That caught his attention. "A game, ok, what is it?"
He smiled, trap set, sprung and caught! "Let's see how long you can be quiet. Will it be the end of this sentence or maybe-Gods willing-until Sally returns and I leave."
"Fuck you."
"End of sentence."
They all laughed.
Corinne entered just as the sound was dying down. She smiled kindly as Trowa rose to go to her.
"He's fine. We've managed to erect some shields, so that even if he does hear the trigger word, he at least won't kill anyone but himself. I know, small comfort, but it's the best we could do in one day. Trust me, that's more than most could have done in a lot longer than that."
He nodded, not at all happy, but willing to accept the small victory. "So Quatre still can't hear the trigger word."
"That's right. It would be very bad. But he'd have to hear it in the right context for it to work anyway, and I doubt that between now and tomorrow he'll hear it. Especially since he's so exhausted he'll probably sleep until late tomorrow anyway."
"Is he alright?"
She nodded kindly but he could tell she was just as tired as she made Quatre out to be. "Just let him rest. He need to let his mind and body relax, it was a trying day."
He agreed and watched her walk into Lady Une's office before he turned back to see the smiling faces of his friends. "What?"
Heero answered. "Nothing, we're just grateful we don't have to entertain you tomorrow as well."
They laughed, that is until there was an ear splitting scream from Une's office. As one they ran to the door, throwing it open to find Corinne clutching her head, and Lady racing around her desk to find out what was happening. Corinne's face was a twist of absolute pain and horror, and as they watched, she clawed at her hair, threatening to pull in it in her suffering.
Surrounding her, they looked to Une for answers. The woman's face was just as confused as theirs were. "She came in and just started screaming!"
Suddenly it stopped, and breathing hard, Corinne looked terror stricken into Trowa's eyes. "Quatre!"
His world froze. Flashbacks to when he'd first met Corinne assaulted him. She hadn't looked much better as she's calmed the empathic storm from Quatre's mind two months ago; he also registered the same look on her face when Killashandra had had her own brush with the storm.
"What's wrong, Corinne?! What's wrong with, Quatre?!"
He didn't have to wait long to find out. There was a split second warning as the intercom system beeped, before he heard Quatre's sobbing and terror filled voice.
"Trowa.help me."
* * *
If he could have kicked down the door to get in faster, he would have. As it was he had to waste precious seconds plugging in the pass code. As it opened, he and his companions behind him gasped in horror.
All around them were symbols of children. Baby toys, cribs, bottles, and chairs; all arranged around the room to make it look like an over- crowed nursery. A mocking banner hung over the living room, proclaiming loudly that it was a boy.
He swore violently. This had to be Quatre's sisters, there was on one else what would have played such a cruel and tasteless joke.
With desperation borne from knowing that even now Quatre was wrestling in the throws of a storm, he called out Quatre's name in near panic. Likewise, he heard the others call out as well.
"QUATRE!!!"
But their calls went unanswered, and Trowa raced to the other side of the room to look in their bedroom, while Heero tore to the other side to look in the children's room. Nothing, there was no Quatre, and as they called, his blond lover made no sound to direct them to his location.
Panic raced through him as he remember the last time Quatre had been ambushed by his sister Liteea, he didn't dare start to believe that Quatre had run away, he simply couldn't take it.
"Trowa!" He turned to see Corinne, supported by Lady Une, pointing to the back corner of the room. A long tapestry hung in cascades of burgundy fabric, and at the base, curled around the folds of red, huddled a shivering mass of muted sunshine.
Quatre's knees were drawn into his chest as he leaned against the wall. Face hidden in his knees, he rocked back and forth but made no sound. From across the room, as he raced to his lover's side, he could see Quatre overcome with violent shakes.
"Quatre." Softly he knelt down in front of his long time love. He called Quatre's name again, but when no response sounded, he moved his fingertips to brush against Quatre's arms, which were wrapped about his legs.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" Violently, Quatre pulled away from him, crawling into himself and the wall to get away from him.
"Quatre, please. I'm not going to hurt you. It's ok, I'm here now, it's ok." He didn't try to touch his lover again, only held his hands out in a display of peace. Beside him, he felt the air shift as Lady Une helped Corinne to kneel beside him.
Corinne's voice was calm but strained as she spoke softly to Quatre. "It's alright, Quatre. Calm down. I'm going to try and help you calm down now, let me in. Let me help you, Quatre."
There was silence for a moment before he watched the shaking begin to subside in Quatre's huddled frame. He wanted to reach out to him, wanted to take Quatre into his arms and never let him go, protect him from the world, but he couldn't, not this very second. He busied himself by thinking up ways to kill each and every one of Quatre's worthless sisters.
".why?" It was the voice of a broken man, and Trowa felt a part of himself die at hearing that tone yet again from his loving partner.
"Oh, Quatre, I'm so sorry. So sorry."
Blue eyes looked up then, met green, and from their depths fell the tears of a lost angel. Shaken, and crushed, Quatre's silent tears fell, dropping to his pants and staining them with his agony.
".any-anything but-but this. They could have done anything but this." His voice was paced, filled with pain and suffering; nothing but a whisper on the breeze.
"They'll pay for this, Quatre. I swear it, I promise they'll pay for this!" He was so angry, his voice shook with fear for his partner, and rage at the women that would do this to his most treasured lover.
".for them. I did it all for them. Killed, slaughtered, maimed, destroyed my soul for them.for them." Desperate blue pools caught his eye. "I gave them everything that I had. Did everything I could, to give them a world where they'd be free. I sold my soul for them, all for them!" In a sudden twist, Quatre was yelling, nearly screaming hysterically. "Everything that I was I gave for them! I killed tens of thousands of people so they wouldn't need to be afraid! So their children would never be afraid!" And then he was sobbing, large gasps of breath that brought accompanying tears from Trowa as well. "You were the only thing I wanted for myself, the only thing I asked for. I would have done the rest, been the person they wanted me to be, but you, you and the child, the only two things I refused to give up. It wasn't so much to ask for was it, Trowa? Did I ask for too much in return for what I gave up? Did I?"
Blindly he shook his head. "No, Quatre, no, you didn't ask for too much."
The screaming was back. "They why?! How could they do this too me! They know how much I wanted my own child, how desperately I wanted a child of my body! It's all I've ever wanted, ever really wanted! The only thing I wanted! How can they do this? How can they?! How can they taunt me with the one thing in the universe that I can never, ever have!? I'm their brother, Trowa! Their own brother! How can they do this?! How can they treat their own brother who loves them like this?! Why!?" There was such utter despair in Quatre's voice, such pain and betrayal. He wept tears of pain and sorrow as his lover cried, cried for his pain, cried for his suffering.
For it is true, money can buy you almost anything, but it can't buy you everything. Quatre desired the one thing his money could never afford him, a child of his body that did not corrupt his morals, and no means of having one existed that did not.
Broken and sobbing, Quatre finally allowed Trowa to take him into his arms. Sliding up to his lover, he pulled Quatre into his lap, running his long fingers though blonde sunshine, and calling softly to his lover, that it would be alright, he'd make it better, he'd make it alright.
They stayed that way for a long time, Quatre sobbing, while Corinne swept as much of the tangle of emotion away as she could, while he rocked Quatre back and forth.
He noticed Duo shed tears on his friend's behalf, before the long haired boy turned to grab a box of tissue to bring it over to them, stealing one for himself first. He never made it that far. Hitting one of the stacked boxes, a holographic imager fell to the floor and began to play its recorded message.
Fallen to the side, so it looked like she was floating horizontally above the floor, Liteea Winner held a cruel smile on her face. Her words chilled him to the bone.
"Merry Christmas, Quatre." In a sick display, that was all the message said, and on some form of repeat, it said it over and over again. Liteea's twisted visage mocking the season of love with this gift of hatred.
He watched helplessly as, as if in slow motion, Quatre's head lifted from its place against his shoulder to take in the image of his demented sister. Duo tried without success to silence the horrible thing, but over and over the message played, mocking them all as Quatre sat motionless in his lap and listened to it.
Finally, Wufei could take no more and stomped on the worthless thing, not stopping until it was a mass of expensive parts and nothing more. The silence in its wake was defending. They watched Quatre, watched as he did nothing but stare at the space his sisters visage had been. Trowa noted with fear that Quatre barely breathed.
Suddenly the door opened, and Sally walked in, her cheerful demeanor instantly gone as she took in the scene before her. Behind her, Shingam and Killashandra walked in, their eyes finding him and Quatre without hesitation.
Shingam moved to run to them, but as he took off, Heero's strong arms caught him and he held the struggling boy tightly, giving Trowa the time he still needed to reach Quatre.
But in the shuffle, he'd missed it. Missed Quatre's tell tale signs, before his slight lover shifted, then stood and moved from his lap.
"Quatre?" But the blonde didn't seem to hear him. Instead he moved like a condemned man, feet dragging as he moved to look over the objects that invaded their home. When he finally spoke it was too no one in particular.
"They'll never understand. Maybe I shouldn't either. My father made it so easy. Donate a little sperm and five months later there was one more Winner mouth to feed. He made it seem so effortless; and I always knew that was the way I was supposed to feel about it. Men weren't supposed to care about womanly things like babies. But I did. I cared. I wanted a child so badly, a child of my body, to hold and protect, to love and comfort, to be to it, everything I'd ever wanted my father to be to me. I wasn't supposed to care about children, but I did, I do. I want a child of my own, so very, very badly." The agony of Quatre's words touched their souls, as Trowa rose and went to his partner.
"You understand don't you, Trowa. A child of my own body, without guilt, without he or she ever wondering if I did it to save my company. A child of my own to know I gave them life, part of myself out of such overpowering and immense love. You understand, don't you?"
Solemnly he nodded. "Yes, Quatre. Yes, I understand."
His partner started to sob in ernest again. "They why can't they! Why can't they understand that it's killing me! That I die a little bit everyday because of the will, because thanks to my father no child of mine will ever feel as if they weren't a means to an end! And because of that, because of that I'll never have my own children! I'll never have my family! That all of this," he swung his arms wildly around the room. "Is the worst betrayal of all they could have committed against me!" And then Quatre collapsed into his chest, clinging to him desperately. "Why Trowa? Why do they hate me so much, that they'd kill me in this slow torturous way? What did I do to make them hate me so, so much? All I did was protect them, and all I asked for in return was you, just you. Why?"
He had no answers to give.
* * *
Through the fog of his agony, Quatre could feel Corinne's weak efforts to finish the sweep. He tried his best to help her along, but for the most part he simply existed, wondering over and over in his mind if the pain would ever stop, if the betrayal would ever end.
Safe in Trowa's arms, he'd asked all the right questions, but like he knew he didn't, Trowa had no answers to give. He buried his face in Trowa's chest, hoping to escape the sight of all his baby things, and the loneliness and hopelessness they brought.
He was startled with the rest of them, when a mechanical voice said loudly, "YOU'RE A PRETTY GIRL!"
It drew his eyes from the darkness to see Killashandra, hand poised to touch the button again, staring at a baby mirror that hung from the side of the crib. He remembered the toy. A small glowing button at the top beckoned to be pressed, and when it was, it would make the same comment over and over, "YOU'RE A PRETTY BOY!, or, YOU'RE A PRETTY GIRL!"
As they watched, Killa pressed the button and was startled just a little by the loud voice that again professed her beauty. And then in a show of her first real emotion, Killashandra turned to face him, eyes wide with wonder and happiness. It wasn't a smile, not by any means, but her eyes held a real look of emotion in them, and Quatre found himself drawn from his own pain and into her childlike wonder.
Just as quickly as it had come, she turned to look at the mirror and again pressed the button. Over and over she pressed it, the new expression in her eyes not wavering once. And like men forced to watch but not participate, too stunned to do anything, they let her continue.
Finally, Shingam-whom Heero had put down only moment's before Killa's discovery-went to stand beside his small friend. "Killa, Quatre's really sad now, so we need to be really quiet."
But Killashandra ignored him and depressed the button yet again. And Shingam was unfazed. He himself moved to a rocking horse that stood close to the mirror. With questioning hand, he pushed at the wooden horse before stepping back as it rocked towards him. When he looked up at Quatre he had the same wondering and nervous look in his eye as Killa had had.
"Quatre, what kind of training devise is this?"
And suddenly, his pain wasn't important anymore. He watched the two children look at toys he'd taken for granted as a child, watched their eyes fill with wonder at the simple inventions. Looking around the room, he was treated to a sight he didn't think he'd ever see; a room filled with baby things, things that didn't matter. He felt his mind shift into place, and heard Corinne's startled exclamation as her work was suddenly no longer needed.
So he'd never have a baby of his own, so he'd never have children of his body, did it matter? Did it really and truly matter? A child from his body or another, what difference did it make? A child was a child, and he had two perfectly beautiful examples standing in awe right before his eyes.
He felt Trowa tighten his grip on him as his shoulders relaxed, and he looked at his long time partner with such love and understanding that Trowa visibly blinked at the change in him. He nuzzled the underside of Trowa's chin once, before moving to kneel between the two inquisitive children.
"It's not a training device, Shingam, it's just a toy. It's funny, the mirror Killa's playing with, and this rocking horse were the only two toys my mother purchased for me before she died. As a child, they were my two favorite toys." Killa continued to depress the glowing button, but Shingam, turned to him, a questioningly look on his face.
"Quatre, it's ok that Killa and I touch them, isn't it?"
He smiled. "Yes, it's ok. In fact, I'm glad you're playing with them. It's such a waste for them to have no one to love them. If I were to give these toys to you and Killashandra, would you both promise to take really extra special good care of them?"
Shingam nodded enthusiastically before, hesitating. "But Quatre, don't you want to give the toys to your little boy and girl?"
So innocent and unassuming. "I think I just did." And Quatre hugged him; wrapped Shingam up into his arms and held the boy close. He stood, turned to look at Trowa's face, and saw all he needed to know. Trowa agreed. These children were theirs now.
He felt the huge smile grow across his face, and he set Shingam on the rocking horse before moving to stand beside Trowa. There was concern still in Trowa's eyes, but also understanding. The timing could have been better, but it didn't matter, this is what they needed, what the children needed. They were a match, and while it wouldn't be easy, Trowa's eyes said he was determined to make it work.
A joyful laugh fell from his lips as he threw himself at Trowa. His taller partner felt that feeling as well, that sense of completeness, as he lifted Quatre up and swung him around, the two of them laughing and giggling at the newness of being parents.
But the joyfulness couldn't last, not when the Winner sisters set out to destroy their brother.
In a shattering cry, the sound of a wailing baby could be heard, and Quatre swung around, desperate to find the sound and silence it. He couldn't explain the emotions. One minute he was overjoyed at learning the two children would soon be his and Trowa's, the next the burnt out despair was upon him again, all at the sound of some unknown baby's cry.
He pushed his way out of Trowa's arms, and raced across the room. Throwing the covers out of the cradle, he came face to face with a scene from his most horrifying nightmare. As he began to scream, he noted absently that whoever had done the molding had done an excellent job, the face of the baby AI looked exactly like him.
* * *
Trowa barely had time to register the blanket flying before he heard Quatre begin to scream. It was a sound he'd never heard before, so filled with horror that it rivaled even the sound he'd heard over the vid as the mad psychiatrist had brutalized his partner.
With lightening fast reflexes he raced to Quatre's side. He took a quick look at the thing in the crib and blanched before swinging Quatre away from the sight and tucking him as soundly as he could in his arms.
The child was obviously suppose to look like Quatre, blonde hair and blue eyes, its face had been molded to look just like him. But this child's face was wrong, painted on bruises and lacerations covered its face, and the upper body Trowa had glimpsed before he'd pulled his lover away.
The message was clear, and Trowa tried in vain to quiet his lover. But Quatre continued to scream, a horrible sound that gripped them all. His voice broached no argument as he shouted.
"Heero! Wufei! Get that thing out of here, now!" As they moved to comply, Duo grabbed the children with Sally's help and moved them to the couch. Desperately, he tried to calm Quatre down, tried to ease his lovers fears. "It'll be alright Quatre. Shhhhhh. Little One, you'd never hurt your own child, never. Oh Quatre, shhhhhhh. You'd never hurt our children, never. Shhhhhhh."
Minutes were like hours as Wufei and Heero moved all of the furniture and toys out of the apartment to sit in the hallway. The banner was the last thing to come down, and he himself had to retrieve it because it was so high up.
Lady Une made a few calls and found out that an outside vendor had come in to arrange for a present that was thought too elaborate for the guards to arrange. A call to the vendor revealed they'd been led to believe the present was from some loving sisters who had realized their brother was going to be a father. It wasn't anyone's fault, no one's except Quatre's sisters.
Quatre's eyes were vacant as he sat shivering on the couch. Sally had given him a sedative only a moment before, the effects just starting to work. As Trowa sat down, Quatre curled into him, begging for the comfort he so desperately needed.
Trowa stroked his hair and talked calmly to him. Softly reassuring him that everything was going to be alright.
Nearly an hour after it had all begun, Quatre shifted before standing. Trowa tried to grab for him but Quatre shied away.
"Don't."
Slowly and with deliberate care, Quatre walked to the vid and entered a com call code. The next thing any of them knew, a man in a very formal business suit was on the vid.
"Good evening, Mr. Winner. How may I help you?"
Quatre's voice was dead, his eyes haunted, and the man on the screen looked alarmed.
"If you are not loyal to me, Jacob, go and find me someone that is. I wish to talk about my sisters."
A dark expression filtered across the man-Jacob's-face, before he answered. "What has my wife done this time, Mr. Winner?"
Any other time, Quatre would have joked with the man, Trowa was certain of that, but as they watched in silence, Quatre merely shook his head.
"Too much to be forgiven. I need financial advice, Jacob, can you give me impartial financial advice?"
Jacob nodded. "Mr. Winner, I was in the services of your father for a very long time, and I learned early on not to allow my personal feelings to interfere with business. What can I help you with?" There was a strange note in the man's voice, and Trowa realized quickly that the personal feelings were about Quatre. The man liked Quatre, and working for the man that had beat him must have been hard for Jacob.
Quatre nodded. "Bring up my sisters' portfolios. Everything they bought using Winner money, everything my father bought for them over the years, display it on a side bar panel." In less than a minute, Liteea Winner's stock portfolio was flashing across the screen. Billions of dollars in investments flashed in a litany of zeros. Quatre's voice was devoid of emotions as he spoke. "How much of that is stock in WEI?"
Jacob paused to look. "Roughly forty-five percent. You're father believed in playing it safe." Quatre nodded.
"How much in total? What's she worth?" There was a strange way he said that, and Trowa stood when he figured out what was off about it. Quatre had asked as if Liteea herself was nothing but property.
"At current market value, nearly five billion credits."
"Exactly how many individual shares does she own. I want the exact number of total shares."
Another pause, then, "One million, seven hundred thousand, eight hundred and thirty three shares."
Quatre nodded coldly, Trowa moved to stand behind him. "Do the same for each of my sisters, I'll wait on the line for the numbers. Read me their names and their worth just like you did for Liteea."
For the next twenty minutes, Jacob listed mass quantities of numbers, billions of credits in investments. When he'd finished, Quatre was smiling.
"As I've already been told, I can make no purchasing power over the sum of one billion credits until my twenty-first birthday. Therefore I couldn't possible buy my sisters' portfolios' at fair market value. But their shares were bought with WEI money, and therefore belong to me." So cold and calculating, Trowa put both of his hands on Quatre's shoulders in comfort and warmth.
"Jacob, buy them out. I want their portfolio's on my desk in the morning. Everything they thought they owned is mine, has always been mine, just like they are. They forgot who was the puppet master here!"
Trowa tried to reason with him, find out more importantly, what he was doing.
"Quatre-"
"Hush! Now isn't the time!" Dismissed, Trowa waited nervously. He hazard a look at the others, their expressions similar to his own.
"You're right that you can't buy them out at fair value, just as your correct in that technically their shares do belong to WEI. But Mr. Winner, if you can't buy them out at fair-"
"They no longer deserved to be treated fairly, I've tried that, it doesn't work. If they insist on bringing this family down, then I will be the one to strike the final blow. I am my father's son, after all.
"For every share that they own, they will be give a single credit. I don't care what the value was, they're lucky I'm giving them anything at all! A single credit for every share they own. Liteea's five billion credit portfolio will be nothing more than one point five million credits when the check arrives in time for Christmas breakfast. The same goes for all my sisters! Buy them all out, and put the money in a sheltered investment, then arrange for it to be given as a gift, the total will be well below my one billion credit limit. Put the stocks in an account for Trowa Barton. Make sure the account's untraceable. Send me the information I need to access it by tomorrow."
Suddenly Quatre turned in his arms, a large and very sane smile on his face. There seemed to be a measure of relief there, as if in this one act, he felt as if he'd put things to rights. "I hope you don't mind Trowa. I did promise to make money a non issue for us in the future, but now that we've got a family to think about, well, I'd just feel better knowing we have more than just you and I need."
He nodded dumbly. "I think that'll be more than enough."
And Quatre beamed. "Yes, I agree. We'll have no problem caring for the children with just the dividends. After all, that's what my sisters were living off of all this time anyway."
Then a strange expression crossed Quatre's face, and Trowa wasn't at all convinced of his partners sanity. "No, that won't do. That just won't do at all."
Turning back towards the vid he regarded Jacob for a moment before speaking. "I've heard tale that my sister Cijen, stood against my sisters in my defense. Do you know anything about that, Jacob?"
Carefully the man nodded. "Liteea mentioned it at the dinner table, yes. Sekurra went through the roof. I understand my daughter was there only a little while ago."
So this was Liteea's husband, Sekurra's father. Now that he looked at the man, it made sense, Sekurra looked a bit like him in fact. The girl had at least taken her father's attitude and disposition instead of her mother's, it would seem.
Quatre nodded. "Yes, she did. She was the one that told me in fact. Jacob, I wish to amend my instructions. Do exactly what I've asked, but do not touch Cijen's stocks. I have questions that need answering before I decide what to do about her.
"One more thing. When the checks are delivered to my sisters, I wish a note to be attached. It will read simply: 'Merry Christmas, Quatre.' Understand?"
Jacob nodded, and the call was disconnected. Later that night, after everyone had gone home, and Quatre had lain slumbering in his arms, the fax machine had sounded. The message on the sheet, "Done. Merry Christmas, Master Winner." Trowa didn't miss the reference to Quatre's father.
He tried a weak smile, but when he realized she had her eyes closed, he gave up. "I know what you mean. Unfortunately, I think if I tried, not only would my own children wake me up, but so would Marieminna and Duo! But I think I am going to go to bed and sleep until sometime tomorrow afternoon. That should still leave plenty of time for the Christmas Eve party Duo's having."
"Oh shoot, I forgot all about that. Damn, I don't suppose he'd let me out of it either."
"Probably a safe bet."
Since nine o'clock this morning, he and Corinne had been engaged in a session unlike any other, either had been through. Together they'd desperately tried to sweep the most dangerous of emotions from Quatre's memory while preventing his conscious mind from coming in contact with them. It was tedious and dangerous work. In fact, Lady Une had insisted that Marieminna go to her mother's house in New America for the day; so that in the event something went wrong, at least she'd be spared. But nothing had gone wrong, and now in the aftermath of an exhausting session, both patient and doctor lay spent and ready for a vacation.
Last night had been a nightmare. Sekurra's little present had uncovered the most hanous of crimes against him. Trowa in all his infinite patients had wrestled with Quatre's disbelief and outrage while explaining what the psychiatrist had done to him all those years ago. Most of it Quatre still couldn't quite comprehend. He understood the emotional turmoil, he'd helped Corinne clear it out of his mind for the last six hours; but because he couldn't witness the vid for himself, he was left in the dark as to how bad it really was. Trowa had tried to explain to him what he'd seen, but without seeing it himself it was hard for him to understand the complex emotions he sensed from Trowa. He figured most of it had to do with the three segments that had followed.
He'd seen those. Trowa and the others had sat patiently again as he watched his sister find him in that hated room. He'd been so surprised when he'd learned that Cijen had covered for his sisters; even to the point of disbelieving the vid. Seeafa had helped Cijen care for him, and Iria had been studying medicine on a remote colony; at least that's what he'd been told. But the vid showed clearly that Iria was close by, but had refused to come, and indeed, Seeafa had simply run away.
And Cijen, his most beloved sister. He didn't even have to watch the vid, only listen to her voice and remember the pain she'd been in when she'd found him. Even after all these years, he could still remember the pain and fear that had rolled off of her on that fateful night she'd rescued him from Hell.
But the vid's second segment had thrown him into a rage. All this time, all along he'd never known Cijen had been the reason why his father had never come for him. He'd always assumed his father had cut his losses, only now to find out that that was far from the truth. But that wasn't what had enraged him, he could truly have cared less; but Cijen had put herself in danger, stood against their father for him, and could very well have died for it. A threat to his fortune or even himself did not go over lightly with Raberba Winner. Some frightened part of him had considered just for a moment that his father might very well have killed Cijen if he thought he could have gotten away with it sans repercussions. That was where the rage came from, to think that Cijen would act so carelessly, throw her life around like nothing, all to protect him. He was furious with her, screaming and damning her in their living room. Sally nearly had to administer tranquilizers just to calm him down.
But it hadn't ended there. He'd called Rashid directly after that segment, demanding from the proud man what he knew about Cijen arranging for him to be ambushed by the Maguanacs. At first the giant had said very little, but as Quatre remained more insistent, he told Quatre everything. How Cijen had gone to the Magunac base on Earth and begged them to help her, begged on the grounds that the Magunacs were the descendents of the Sultan's personal guard of old, and Quatre was their responsibility since he would have been future Sultan. At first the argument had not gone over well, but Cijen had refused to give up. She'd presented the vid of Quatre's ordeal in the room, shown them and told them stories of the beatings he'd endured, explained the worthless reasoning behind them; until finally she'd told them the one thing they'd needed to know, that he was empathic. Already curious about this newly emerged talent in humans, the Maguancs agreed to take him in, one to get him away from the abuse as a fellow Arabian, and two, to learn a little more about a gift few of their own people possessed.
Rashid had received a command to ambush the WEI ship and find a way to convince the boy on board to go with him. But Quatre had been so withdrawn and aloof, Rashid hadn't known what to do. But as their own men had betrayed them, Rashid had been stunned to learn that Quatre possessed natural piloting skills, he used that to his advantage and convinced him to join. The rest was history as Quatre knew it.
He'd asked why Rashid had never told him the truth, but the older man had only gotten a far way look in his eye before saying, "I thought about it, but knew you would react badly to it in the beginning. By the time I could have told you, you were already happy here and with Koeran, there seemed little point, Master." Begrudgingly, Quatre had agreed.
But that left the final and perhaps hardest part of the entire vid. The small two minute scene with Koeran. He'd guessed correctly that the vid had been sent by Cijen to Koeran, so that the young man would have a copy of the vid and understand the danger Quatre was in, and what she'd done to protect him. Koeran had most likely witnessed the vid and then tried to record over it, not realizing some special function on the camera to write over password coded sequences. After Koeran had been killed, Quatre had packaged his things together and sent some of them to Cijen for safe keeping. Cijen must have placed the vid in the case with the rest, not realizing what was on it.
There had been such an easy way about their relationship, and Quatre had wept openly in Trowa's arms at the sight of his first lover. There was still so much unresolved pain in Koeran's death; feelings and emotions he didn't think would ever go away.
He'd watched himself as he'd been before and was now, the submissive partner. With Koeran it had been justified, he'd been learning exactly what it meant to be a man, and more than that, a lover. But while he wept in Trowa's arms at his first love's sight, he'd also wept for the empty feeling he had playing the role of the weak one now. Things had been so perfect back then, his role had been correct, and even the years spent with Trowa-it might have been false strength, but his role as leader and protector had been right. Now he was lost and alone, frightened because his role was not right, and his partner refused to see that.
Eventually the vid had ended, and he and Corinne had arranged to meet in the morning to find a way of defusing the mental bomb in his head. The group had eaten in silence and then left, no happiness left from earlier that evening. Trowa had put the children to be before dragging Quatre into their own room for the first time in five days. He'd awoken to nightmares the whole night, finally begging off sleep to watch the segments of the vid that he could, over and over and over again.
Now, exhausted and drained from the sweep, every nerve tingled as he prepared to return to his own quarters. "I'll see you at the party tomorrow."
"Are you sure you're alright? I'm not even sure I'll be able to make it down to the main office to tell Lady she's in the all clear. The trigger's still there, and the bomb is still ticking, but we've erected enough shields that at the very least the only one who could possibly suffer permanent damage would be you. I don't like leaving it like this, but there isn't anything else we can do today, and the rest is going to take a while."
"At least Trowa's safe."
Corinne nodded weakly as she moved to stand, he helped her up. "Yes, the shields protect him from the backlash, he'll be fine. However, remember not to watch that segment of the vid, the others know what not to say, and as long as the trigger isn't directed towards you, you won't be in any danger. Like I said, I hate leaving it like this, but right now we don't have any options."
He inclined his head, agreeing with her. "Do you want me to walk you down to Headquarters?"
"No. No sense in both of us being miserable. Go back to your quarters, and sleep. Tell Trowa if he tries to wake you up, I'll make it a criminal offence and have him thrown in the brig. Do we even have a brig?"
He laughed weakly. "Sort of. I'll tell him, but I doubt it'll be necessary, he'll just have to take one look at me and he'll know I'm tired."
Suddenly, Corinne stopped their progress towards the door. Looking deeply into his eyes, she asked the one question he wished she wouldn't have.
"How are things going between the two of you?"
Not knowing what to say, and being far to tired to get into it, he shrugged his shoulders. "We still need to talk things over, but we're getting there. Let's save this for another day though, Corinne, I'm far too exhausted to think about it all right now, and I know you're too exhausted to listen."
She smiled. "You're probably right. We'll discuss it during another session, but I'm worried about you, I want you to know that."
"And I appreciate it, but I don't want to get into it right now."
"You're lucky I'm too tired to argue with you."
"I know."
They separated at the door, Corinne heading towards Lady Une's office, he heading towards a warm bed. His feet dragged as he shuffled down the hallway, too drained by the rawness of the emotions he'd had to deal with.
With Corinne he'd tried his best not to act as if the past two days had effected him, but that was simply untrue. His mental shields were in rubbles, shifted to cover the precious link he shared with Trowa, pulling away from other areas of his mind to protect his lover.
He was tired, exposed, exhausted, and just plain drained of all his energy. He felt he would burst into tears at any moment, weep his pain at the drop of a hat. So much had happened, and with the barely covered emotions of terror from his unknown childhood experience, it was a wonder he wasn't hiding under a table somewhere.
Chuckling weakly at the thought, he resigned himself to simply hiding under the covers. He'd leave a quick note to Trowa, not to wake him until sometime tomorrow and then climb between the warm blankets and let his mind do a self-sweep as he slept. Reaching his door, he slowly punched in the pass code, his body almost too tired to even lift his hand.
He had the foresight to notice the slip on the door, he had a package.
As the door opened, and he got the first sight of his home, he felt his last remaining shields crumble to dust. He could feel the empathic storm rising, and desperately he grabbed at his heart to hold the pain inside. It was too much, just too much.
In front of him, in bold letters and cheerful script was a banner, strung across the living room. An announcement, a birth announcement.
"IT'S A BOY!"
Everywhere he looked were baby things. A changing table rested in front of the couch. The baby dresser he remembered from his youth was backed up against one wall, the solid oak finish shining in the sun from the windows. A baby cradle sat in the middle, and softly as it rocked back and forth, the sound of cooing could be heard from it. And all around him were toys, toys for every age, from infant to toddler, to childhood wonder. Boxes and boxes of toys were piled ceiling high all over the apartment. The ones on the floor, not in boxes, he recognized, they'd belonged to him.
He heard their voices like screeching sirens.
"You only have five months left for a natural birth."
"A genetic takes half the time, Quatre."
"You want to be a father some day, don't you?"
"If a child is the only way to save our fortune then you'd better do your job and have one!"
"I don't care if it goes against every principle you've ever had in your pathetic life, you will have a child, and you will deliver us from this crisis!"
"It's a child for god's sake, not a business partner, what's the big deal?!"
"You're so worthless, Quatre! All you have to do, all you absolutely have to do, is fuck some woman or jack-off into a cup! How hard is that?!"
"It's just a child, you can do that, it's about money, Quatre, not about the child. The child is nothing more than an inconvenience."
And then he heard his own voice, as he'd talked to Trowa on a night long ago.
"Someday, when we're ready, we'll start a family. A cute genetic on your side. She'll have dark brownish red curls and bright green eyes. Oh Trowa, she'll look just like you, I know she will. Or a boy, a lengthy boy you'll teach all the tricks of the circus trade too. He'd learn back flips and summersaults, and how to walk the tightrope, at least from you. From me, I'd teach him about music and even my company. But I wouldn't force it on him, not like me, I'd let him decide for himself, what exactly he wanted to be. We'll be good parents, great parents someday. You'll see Trowa, you'll see, someday."
And then later, much later.
"What if it never happens Trowa? What if I can never have children with a clear conscious? What if for the rest of my life, anytime I look at a child of mine, I wonder, 'Did I do it for the money?' God Trowa, how could my father do this to me?"
".no.please no.don't do this.anything but this."
He couldn't think, couldn't move, he just stared at the piles and piles of baby things and felt his heart ripped from his heaving chest. Anything but this, anything but the reminder of the one thing he wanted more in the entire world than anything else, but could never have, would never have. A child, a child of his own body, a son or daughter with his hair or eyes. The one thing all the money in the world could never buy him. He would not trade a child's life for a fortune, and in so refusing, condemned himself. A child, it was the one thing he'd never have of his own, and the one thing he secretly craved, maybe even more than Trowa. To be a father, to hold a child in his arms and know half of himself rested in him or her. It was too much, anything but this.
He felt his mind swirl with self-hatred and contempt as he desperately moved against the wall, blindly searching for the com unit. The agony was so over powering, the storm building through his system, crippling. He tripped the last of the way, harsh sobs retched from his throat as he pressed desperately at the controller.
When he heard it beep, he struggled with consciousness for one last cry for help before the storm overtook him.
"Trowa.help me."
* * *
He had to pick up the children.
Sally had taken the day off to finish the last of her Christmas crises and had graciously offered to take Shingam and Killashandra with her. She'd had to promise ice cream and new toys before Shingam had agreed to leave Quatre's sights. The boy was clinging to Quatre more and more, and Trowa could tell that Killashandra was doing the same.
Trowa wasn't stupid, he knew what was coming. Quatre was completely attached to these two children, they all were, and he was no exception. He was counting the days until Quatre suggested they adopt the two. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.
He was only twenty-one, in this advanced day and age, most people didn't start having children until their thirties. He and Quatre were so young, and Trowa couldn't help but wish he could have a little bit more time with Quatre, alone. But all he had to do was look into Killashandra's eyes before he melted completely.
The four year old, might not have yet talked, but she'd somehow managed to find a place so directly in his heart that he had no choice but to snuggle her close when he read to her, or brushed her hair lovingly in the morning. He knew he was falling in love with her, and if he were honest with himself, he already was. Quatre had once said that a couple should have children when the love they had for each other was so large they just had to share it with another. Perhaps that time was now.
He knew what he'd say when Quatre finally asked him, he'd say yes. He'd open his arms and love two children that desperately needed a family, because Quatre wanted them, and so did he.
But with that knowledge came absolute fear. Not a day went by that he didn't fear he'd become somehow angered by the children. Not a day went by that he didn't fear becoming all he'd known of a father. And Trowa knew Quatre felt the same way. Both were so afraid of repeating the mistakes of their pasts, of becoming the men they had hated and feared for so many years. What if he hit them, what if he struck Shingam's beautiful face and then couldn't stop? What if? The fear never ended.
So he'd decided. He would agree, but with that agreement had to come his own piece of mind. He knew somewhere deep inside of himself he was capable of hurting them, and he knew-no mater how he wished to deny it-so was Quatre. So they'd continue the therapy, he'd make Quatre promise at least that. If they were prepared to be parents, then they had to be prepared to put their children before themselves, and that meant they needed to have Corinne or someone else, teach them what it meant to be real parents, ones that didn't beat or rape their children into submission.
He startled out of his reverie as a paper airplane hit him on the forehead.
"What?" He looked up at Duo's bemused eyes.
"What'cha thinkin' about tall, dark and weird?"
He rolled his eyes. With Quatre and Corinne in a session to clear out the unstable emotions in Quatre's mind, he'd opted to go to work to avoid worrying the entire day. The other pilots had joined him, lending support and trying their best to keep his mind off it. Duo had been a chatterbox all day, while Heero had beaten the crap out of him in a three hour game of basketball. Wufei had even shown up, not wanting to go with his fiancé to town; he'd opted to keep Trowa company by railing Duo every chance he got. All in all the day had run quickly and Trowa was waiting for Sally to bring the children back before heading home.
"I was thinking I hope Sally returns quickly."
"Why, getting bored of us?" Duo smiled, knowing he'd exasperated his older friend to no end the entire day.
"Duo, let's play a game."
That caught his attention. "A game, ok, what is it?"
He smiled, trap set, sprung and caught! "Let's see how long you can be quiet. Will it be the end of this sentence or maybe-Gods willing-until Sally returns and I leave."
"Fuck you."
"End of sentence."
They all laughed.
Corinne entered just as the sound was dying down. She smiled kindly as Trowa rose to go to her.
"He's fine. We've managed to erect some shields, so that even if he does hear the trigger word, he at least won't kill anyone but himself. I know, small comfort, but it's the best we could do in one day. Trust me, that's more than most could have done in a lot longer than that."
He nodded, not at all happy, but willing to accept the small victory. "So Quatre still can't hear the trigger word."
"That's right. It would be very bad. But he'd have to hear it in the right context for it to work anyway, and I doubt that between now and tomorrow he'll hear it. Especially since he's so exhausted he'll probably sleep until late tomorrow anyway."
"Is he alright?"
She nodded kindly but he could tell she was just as tired as she made Quatre out to be. "Just let him rest. He need to let his mind and body relax, it was a trying day."
He agreed and watched her walk into Lady Une's office before he turned back to see the smiling faces of his friends. "What?"
Heero answered. "Nothing, we're just grateful we don't have to entertain you tomorrow as well."
They laughed, that is until there was an ear splitting scream from Une's office. As one they ran to the door, throwing it open to find Corinne clutching her head, and Lady racing around her desk to find out what was happening. Corinne's face was a twist of absolute pain and horror, and as they watched, she clawed at her hair, threatening to pull in it in her suffering.
Surrounding her, they looked to Une for answers. The woman's face was just as confused as theirs were. "She came in and just started screaming!"
Suddenly it stopped, and breathing hard, Corinne looked terror stricken into Trowa's eyes. "Quatre!"
His world froze. Flashbacks to when he'd first met Corinne assaulted him. She hadn't looked much better as she's calmed the empathic storm from Quatre's mind two months ago; he also registered the same look on her face when Killashandra had had her own brush with the storm.
"What's wrong, Corinne?! What's wrong with, Quatre?!"
He didn't have to wait long to find out. There was a split second warning as the intercom system beeped, before he heard Quatre's sobbing and terror filled voice.
"Trowa.help me."
* * *
If he could have kicked down the door to get in faster, he would have. As it was he had to waste precious seconds plugging in the pass code. As it opened, he and his companions behind him gasped in horror.
All around them were symbols of children. Baby toys, cribs, bottles, and chairs; all arranged around the room to make it look like an over- crowed nursery. A mocking banner hung over the living room, proclaiming loudly that it was a boy.
He swore violently. This had to be Quatre's sisters, there was on one else what would have played such a cruel and tasteless joke.
With desperation borne from knowing that even now Quatre was wrestling in the throws of a storm, he called out Quatre's name in near panic. Likewise, he heard the others call out as well.
"QUATRE!!!"
But their calls went unanswered, and Trowa raced to the other side of the room to look in their bedroom, while Heero tore to the other side to look in the children's room. Nothing, there was no Quatre, and as they called, his blond lover made no sound to direct them to his location.
Panic raced through him as he remember the last time Quatre had been ambushed by his sister Liteea, he didn't dare start to believe that Quatre had run away, he simply couldn't take it.
"Trowa!" He turned to see Corinne, supported by Lady Une, pointing to the back corner of the room. A long tapestry hung in cascades of burgundy fabric, and at the base, curled around the folds of red, huddled a shivering mass of muted sunshine.
Quatre's knees were drawn into his chest as he leaned against the wall. Face hidden in his knees, he rocked back and forth but made no sound. From across the room, as he raced to his lover's side, he could see Quatre overcome with violent shakes.
"Quatre." Softly he knelt down in front of his long time love. He called Quatre's name again, but when no response sounded, he moved his fingertips to brush against Quatre's arms, which were wrapped about his legs.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" Violently, Quatre pulled away from him, crawling into himself and the wall to get away from him.
"Quatre, please. I'm not going to hurt you. It's ok, I'm here now, it's ok." He didn't try to touch his lover again, only held his hands out in a display of peace. Beside him, he felt the air shift as Lady Une helped Corinne to kneel beside him.
Corinne's voice was calm but strained as she spoke softly to Quatre. "It's alright, Quatre. Calm down. I'm going to try and help you calm down now, let me in. Let me help you, Quatre."
There was silence for a moment before he watched the shaking begin to subside in Quatre's huddled frame. He wanted to reach out to him, wanted to take Quatre into his arms and never let him go, protect him from the world, but he couldn't, not this very second. He busied himself by thinking up ways to kill each and every one of Quatre's worthless sisters.
".why?" It was the voice of a broken man, and Trowa felt a part of himself die at hearing that tone yet again from his loving partner.
"Oh, Quatre, I'm so sorry. So sorry."
Blue eyes looked up then, met green, and from their depths fell the tears of a lost angel. Shaken, and crushed, Quatre's silent tears fell, dropping to his pants and staining them with his agony.
".any-anything but-but this. They could have done anything but this." His voice was paced, filled with pain and suffering; nothing but a whisper on the breeze.
"They'll pay for this, Quatre. I swear it, I promise they'll pay for this!" He was so angry, his voice shook with fear for his partner, and rage at the women that would do this to his most treasured lover.
".for them. I did it all for them. Killed, slaughtered, maimed, destroyed my soul for them.for them." Desperate blue pools caught his eye. "I gave them everything that I had. Did everything I could, to give them a world where they'd be free. I sold my soul for them, all for them!" In a sudden twist, Quatre was yelling, nearly screaming hysterically. "Everything that I was I gave for them! I killed tens of thousands of people so they wouldn't need to be afraid! So their children would never be afraid!" And then he was sobbing, large gasps of breath that brought accompanying tears from Trowa as well. "You were the only thing I wanted for myself, the only thing I asked for. I would have done the rest, been the person they wanted me to be, but you, you and the child, the only two things I refused to give up. It wasn't so much to ask for was it, Trowa? Did I ask for too much in return for what I gave up? Did I?"
Blindly he shook his head. "No, Quatre, no, you didn't ask for too much."
The screaming was back. "They why?! How could they do this too me! They know how much I wanted my own child, how desperately I wanted a child of my body! It's all I've ever wanted, ever really wanted! The only thing I wanted! How can they do this? How can they?! How can they taunt me with the one thing in the universe that I can never, ever have!? I'm their brother, Trowa! Their own brother! How can they do this?! How can they treat their own brother who loves them like this?! Why!?" There was such utter despair in Quatre's voice, such pain and betrayal. He wept tears of pain and sorrow as his lover cried, cried for his pain, cried for his suffering.
For it is true, money can buy you almost anything, but it can't buy you everything. Quatre desired the one thing his money could never afford him, a child of his body that did not corrupt his morals, and no means of having one existed that did not.
Broken and sobbing, Quatre finally allowed Trowa to take him into his arms. Sliding up to his lover, he pulled Quatre into his lap, running his long fingers though blonde sunshine, and calling softly to his lover, that it would be alright, he'd make it better, he'd make it alright.
They stayed that way for a long time, Quatre sobbing, while Corinne swept as much of the tangle of emotion away as she could, while he rocked Quatre back and forth.
He noticed Duo shed tears on his friend's behalf, before the long haired boy turned to grab a box of tissue to bring it over to them, stealing one for himself first. He never made it that far. Hitting one of the stacked boxes, a holographic imager fell to the floor and began to play its recorded message.
Fallen to the side, so it looked like she was floating horizontally above the floor, Liteea Winner held a cruel smile on her face. Her words chilled him to the bone.
"Merry Christmas, Quatre." In a sick display, that was all the message said, and on some form of repeat, it said it over and over again. Liteea's twisted visage mocking the season of love with this gift of hatred.
He watched helplessly as, as if in slow motion, Quatre's head lifted from its place against his shoulder to take in the image of his demented sister. Duo tried without success to silence the horrible thing, but over and over the message played, mocking them all as Quatre sat motionless in his lap and listened to it.
Finally, Wufei could take no more and stomped on the worthless thing, not stopping until it was a mass of expensive parts and nothing more. The silence in its wake was defending. They watched Quatre, watched as he did nothing but stare at the space his sisters visage had been. Trowa noted with fear that Quatre barely breathed.
Suddenly the door opened, and Sally walked in, her cheerful demeanor instantly gone as she took in the scene before her. Behind her, Shingam and Killashandra walked in, their eyes finding him and Quatre without hesitation.
Shingam moved to run to them, but as he took off, Heero's strong arms caught him and he held the struggling boy tightly, giving Trowa the time he still needed to reach Quatre.
But in the shuffle, he'd missed it. Missed Quatre's tell tale signs, before his slight lover shifted, then stood and moved from his lap.
"Quatre?" But the blonde didn't seem to hear him. Instead he moved like a condemned man, feet dragging as he moved to look over the objects that invaded their home. When he finally spoke it was too no one in particular.
"They'll never understand. Maybe I shouldn't either. My father made it so easy. Donate a little sperm and five months later there was one more Winner mouth to feed. He made it seem so effortless; and I always knew that was the way I was supposed to feel about it. Men weren't supposed to care about womanly things like babies. But I did. I cared. I wanted a child so badly, a child of my body, to hold and protect, to love and comfort, to be to it, everything I'd ever wanted my father to be to me. I wasn't supposed to care about children, but I did, I do. I want a child of my own, so very, very badly." The agony of Quatre's words touched their souls, as Trowa rose and went to his partner.
"You understand don't you, Trowa. A child of my own body, without guilt, without he or she ever wondering if I did it to save my company. A child of my own to know I gave them life, part of myself out of such overpowering and immense love. You understand, don't you?"
Solemnly he nodded. "Yes, Quatre. Yes, I understand."
His partner started to sob in ernest again. "They why can't they! Why can't they understand that it's killing me! That I die a little bit everyday because of the will, because thanks to my father no child of mine will ever feel as if they weren't a means to an end! And because of that, because of that I'll never have my own children! I'll never have my family! That all of this," he swung his arms wildly around the room. "Is the worst betrayal of all they could have committed against me!" And then Quatre collapsed into his chest, clinging to him desperately. "Why Trowa? Why do they hate me so much, that they'd kill me in this slow torturous way? What did I do to make them hate me so, so much? All I did was protect them, and all I asked for in return was you, just you. Why?"
He had no answers to give.
* * *
Through the fog of his agony, Quatre could feel Corinne's weak efforts to finish the sweep. He tried his best to help her along, but for the most part he simply existed, wondering over and over in his mind if the pain would ever stop, if the betrayal would ever end.
Safe in Trowa's arms, he'd asked all the right questions, but like he knew he didn't, Trowa had no answers to give. He buried his face in Trowa's chest, hoping to escape the sight of all his baby things, and the loneliness and hopelessness they brought.
He was startled with the rest of them, when a mechanical voice said loudly, "YOU'RE A PRETTY GIRL!"
It drew his eyes from the darkness to see Killashandra, hand poised to touch the button again, staring at a baby mirror that hung from the side of the crib. He remembered the toy. A small glowing button at the top beckoned to be pressed, and when it was, it would make the same comment over and over, "YOU'RE A PRETTY BOY!, or, YOU'RE A PRETTY GIRL!"
As they watched, Killa pressed the button and was startled just a little by the loud voice that again professed her beauty. And then in a show of her first real emotion, Killashandra turned to face him, eyes wide with wonder and happiness. It wasn't a smile, not by any means, but her eyes held a real look of emotion in them, and Quatre found himself drawn from his own pain and into her childlike wonder.
Just as quickly as it had come, she turned to look at the mirror and again pressed the button. Over and over she pressed it, the new expression in her eyes not wavering once. And like men forced to watch but not participate, too stunned to do anything, they let her continue.
Finally, Shingam-whom Heero had put down only moment's before Killa's discovery-went to stand beside his small friend. "Killa, Quatre's really sad now, so we need to be really quiet."
But Killashandra ignored him and depressed the button yet again. And Shingam was unfazed. He himself moved to a rocking horse that stood close to the mirror. With questioning hand, he pushed at the wooden horse before stepping back as it rocked towards him. When he looked up at Quatre he had the same wondering and nervous look in his eye as Killa had had.
"Quatre, what kind of training devise is this?"
And suddenly, his pain wasn't important anymore. He watched the two children look at toys he'd taken for granted as a child, watched their eyes fill with wonder at the simple inventions. Looking around the room, he was treated to a sight he didn't think he'd ever see; a room filled with baby things, things that didn't matter. He felt his mind shift into place, and heard Corinne's startled exclamation as her work was suddenly no longer needed.
So he'd never have a baby of his own, so he'd never have children of his body, did it matter? Did it really and truly matter? A child from his body or another, what difference did it make? A child was a child, and he had two perfectly beautiful examples standing in awe right before his eyes.
He felt Trowa tighten his grip on him as his shoulders relaxed, and he looked at his long time partner with such love and understanding that Trowa visibly blinked at the change in him. He nuzzled the underside of Trowa's chin once, before moving to kneel between the two inquisitive children.
"It's not a training device, Shingam, it's just a toy. It's funny, the mirror Killa's playing with, and this rocking horse were the only two toys my mother purchased for me before she died. As a child, they were my two favorite toys." Killa continued to depress the glowing button, but Shingam, turned to him, a questioningly look on his face.
"Quatre, it's ok that Killa and I touch them, isn't it?"
He smiled. "Yes, it's ok. In fact, I'm glad you're playing with them. It's such a waste for them to have no one to love them. If I were to give these toys to you and Killashandra, would you both promise to take really extra special good care of them?"
Shingam nodded enthusiastically before, hesitating. "But Quatre, don't you want to give the toys to your little boy and girl?"
So innocent and unassuming. "I think I just did." And Quatre hugged him; wrapped Shingam up into his arms and held the boy close. He stood, turned to look at Trowa's face, and saw all he needed to know. Trowa agreed. These children were theirs now.
He felt the huge smile grow across his face, and he set Shingam on the rocking horse before moving to stand beside Trowa. There was concern still in Trowa's eyes, but also understanding. The timing could have been better, but it didn't matter, this is what they needed, what the children needed. They were a match, and while it wouldn't be easy, Trowa's eyes said he was determined to make it work.
A joyful laugh fell from his lips as he threw himself at Trowa. His taller partner felt that feeling as well, that sense of completeness, as he lifted Quatre up and swung him around, the two of them laughing and giggling at the newness of being parents.
But the joyfulness couldn't last, not when the Winner sisters set out to destroy their brother.
In a shattering cry, the sound of a wailing baby could be heard, and Quatre swung around, desperate to find the sound and silence it. He couldn't explain the emotions. One minute he was overjoyed at learning the two children would soon be his and Trowa's, the next the burnt out despair was upon him again, all at the sound of some unknown baby's cry.
He pushed his way out of Trowa's arms, and raced across the room. Throwing the covers out of the cradle, he came face to face with a scene from his most horrifying nightmare. As he began to scream, he noted absently that whoever had done the molding had done an excellent job, the face of the baby AI looked exactly like him.
* * *
Trowa barely had time to register the blanket flying before he heard Quatre begin to scream. It was a sound he'd never heard before, so filled with horror that it rivaled even the sound he'd heard over the vid as the mad psychiatrist had brutalized his partner.
With lightening fast reflexes he raced to Quatre's side. He took a quick look at the thing in the crib and blanched before swinging Quatre away from the sight and tucking him as soundly as he could in his arms.
The child was obviously suppose to look like Quatre, blonde hair and blue eyes, its face had been molded to look just like him. But this child's face was wrong, painted on bruises and lacerations covered its face, and the upper body Trowa had glimpsed before he'd pulled his lover away.
The message was clear, and Trowa tried in vain to quiet his lover. But Quatre continued to scream, a horrible sound that gripped them all. His voice broached no argument as he shouted.
"Heero! Wufei! Get that thing out of here, now!" As they moved to comply, Duo grabbed the children with Sally's help and moved them to the couch. Desperately, he tried to calm Quatre down, tried to ease his lovers fears. "It'll be alright Quatre. Shhhhhh. Little One, you'd never hurt your own child, never. Oh Quatre, shhhhhhh. You'd never hurt our children, never. Shhhhhhh."
Minutes were like hours as Wufei and Heero moved all of the furniture and toys out of the apartment to sit in the hallway. The banner was the last thing to come down, and he himself had to retrieve it because it was so high up.
Lady Une made a few calls and found out that an outside vendor had come in to arrange for a present that was thought too elaborate for the guards to arrange. A call to the vendor revealed they'd been led to believe the present was from some loving sisters who had realized their brother was going to be a father. It wasn't anyone's fault, no one's except Quatre's sisters.
Quatre's eyes were vacant as he sat shivering on the couch. Sally had given him a sedative only a moment before, the effects just starting to work. As Trowa sat down, Quatre curled into him, begging for the comfort he so desperately needed.
Trowa stroked his hair and talked calmly to him. Softly reassuring him that everything was going to be alright.
Nearly an hour after it had all begun, Quatre shifted before standing. Trowa tried to grab for him but Quatre shied away.
"Don't."
Slowly and with deliberate care, Quatre walked to the vid and entered a com call code. The next thing any of them knew, a man in a very formal business suit was on the vid.
"Good evening, Mr. Winner. How may I help you?"
Quatre's voice was dead, his eyes haunted, and the man on the screen looked alarmed.
"If you are not loyal to me, Jacob, go and find me someone that is. I wish to talk about my sisters."
A dark expression filtered across the man-Jacob's-face, before he answered. "What has my wife done this time, Mr. Winner?"
Any other time, Quatre would have joked with the man, Trowa was certain of that, but as they watched in silence, Quatre merely shook his head.
"Too much to be forgiven. I need financial advice, Jacob, can you give me impartial financial advice?"
Jacob nodded. "Mr. Winner, I was in the services of your father for a very long time, and I learned early on not to allow my personal feelings to interfere with business. What can I help you with?" There was a strange note in the man's voice, and Trowa realized quickly that the personal feelings were about Quatre. The man liked Quatre, and working for the man that had beat him must have been hard for Jacob.
Quatre nodded. "Bring up my sisters' portfolios. Everything they bought using Winner money, everything my father bought for them over the years, display it on a side bar panel." In less than a minute, Liteea Winner's stock portfolio was flashing across the screen. Billions of dollars in investments flashed in a litany of zeros. Quatre's voice was devoid of emotions as he spoke. "How much of that is stock in WEI?"
Jacob paused to look. "Roughly forty-five percent. You're father believed in playing it safe." Quatre nodded.
"How much in total? What's she worth?" There was a strange way he said that, and Trowa stood when he figured out what was off about it. Quatre had asked as if Liteea herself was nothing but property.
"At current market value, nearly five billion credits."
"Exactly how many individual shares does she own. I want the exact number of total shares."
Another pause, then, "One million, seven hundred thousand, eight hundred and thirty three shares."
Quatre nodded coldly, Trowa moved to stand behind him. "Do the same for each of my sisters, I'll wait on the line for the numbers. Read me their names and their worth just like you did for Liteea."
For the next twenty minutes, Jacob listed mass quantities of numbers, billions of credits in investments. When he'd finished, Quatre was smiling.
"As I've already been told, I can make no purchasing power over the sum of one billion credits until my twenty-first birthday. Therefore I couldn't possible buy my sisters' portfolios' at fair market value. But their shares were bought with WEI money, and therefore belong to me." So cold and calculating, Trowa put both of his hands on Quatre's shoulders in comfort and warmth.
"Jacob, buy them out. I want their portfolio's on my desk in the morning. Everything they thought they owned is mine, has always been mine, just like they are. They forgot who was the puppet master here!"
Trowa tried to reason with him, find out more importantly, what he was doing.
"Quatre-"
"Hush! Now isn't the time!" Dismissed, Trowa waited nervously. He hazard a look at the others, their expressions similar to his own.
"You're right that you can't buy them out at fair value, just as your correct in that technically their shares do belong to WEI. But Mr. Winner, if you can't buy them out at fair-"
"They no longer deserved to be treated fairly, I've tried that, it doesn't work. If they insist on bringing this family down, then I will be the one to strike the final blow. I am my father's son, after all.
"For every share that they own, they will be give a single credit. I don't care what the value was, they're lucky I'm giving them anything at all! A single credit for every share they own. Liteea's five billion credit portfolio will be nothing more than one point five million credits when the check arrives in time for Christmas breakfast. The same goes for all my sisters! Buy them all out, and put the money in a sheltered investment, then arrange for it to be given as a gift, the total will be well below my one billion credit limit. Put the stocks in an account for Trowa Barton. Make sure the account's untraceable. Send me the information I need to access it by tomorrow."
Suddenly Quatre turned in his arms, a large and very sane smile on his face. There seemed to be a measure of relief there, as if in this one act, he felt as if he'd put things to rights. "I hope you don't mind Trowa. I did promise to make money a non issue for us in the future, but now that we've got a family to think about, well, I'd just feel better knowing we have more than just you and I need."
He nodded dumbly. "I think that'll be more than enough."
And Quatre beamed. "Yes, I agree. We'll have no problem caring for the children with just the dividends. After all, that's what my sisters were living off of all this time anyway."
Then a strange expression crossed Quatre's face, and Trowa wasn't at all convinced of his partners sanity. "No, that won't do. That just won't do at all."
Turning back towards the vid he regarded Jacob for a moment before speaking. "I've heard tale that my sister Cijen, stood against my sisters in my defense. Do you know anything about that, Jacob?"
Carefully the man nodded. "Liteea mentioned it at the dinner table, yes. Sekurra went through the roof. I understand my daughter was there only a little while ago."
So this was Liteea's husband, Sekurra's father. Now that he looked at the man, it made sense, Sekurra looked a bit like him in fact. The girl had at least taken her father's attitude and disposition instead of her mother's, it would seem.
Quatre nodded. "Yes, she did. She was the one that told me in fact. Jacob, I wish to amend my instructions. Do exactly what I've asked, but do not touch Cijen's stocks. I have questions that need answering before I decide what to do about her.
"One more thing. When the checks are delivered to my sisters, I wish a note to be attached. It will read simply: 'Merry Christmas, Quatre.' Understand?"
Jacob nodded, and the call was disconnected. Later that night, after everyone had gone home, and Quatre had lain slumbering in his arms, the fax machine had sounded. The message on the sheet, "Done. Merry Christmas, Master Winner." Trowa didn't miss the reference to Quatre's father.