Go Canada.
www.sympatico.ca
What About Me?
Chapter 4
***
September 28, A.C. 204 (Twenty-two months after Chapter Three)
"Hilde, you're really going to Washington? Vicki just turned three!"
Hilde disinterestedly shoved another shirt into her suitcase and turned to look at me over her shoulder, lips quirked in a smile. "Yeah. 14 days ago."
I dismiss that irrelevant piece of information with a elegant wave of my hand. "So? It's like a rule or something -- you have to stay at least until the end of the month."
Hilde gives up attempting to pack while I'm talking to her and turns around to face me. "Duo, the end of the month is in two days!"
I attempt to look nonchalant as I lean against the doorframe and examine my nails. "So?" I repeat.
Hilde props her hands on her hips and gives me a dubious look. "Surely you can take care of a three year old by yourself. Vicki's potty-trained and is a pretty good shot at getting the spoon in her mouth. It's not that difficult."
I protest, "She just got over her 'terrible two' stage two weeks ago!"
Hilde folds her arms over her chest and gives a Cheshire cat smile. "Just a minute ago, two weeks was nothing."
I scowl and graciously give in to defeat -- I stomp from the room like I am the toddler and huff downstairs to sit on the couch. After a minute Vicki wanders in from the kitchen colored a suspicious shade of white. "Da da," she greets me as she shimmies her way onto the couch. "I white."
I eye the handprints on the brown leather -- and myself -- and reply, "So I see." Vicki climbs her way into my lap. I gently wipe some of the mystery powder off of Vicki's cheek and sniff it. It doesn't smell peculiar, so I touch the tip of my finger to my tongue and pray to God for both Vicki and my own sakes' that it's not some poisonous substance. I'm vastly relieved to taste flour.
Wait a tic - flour? "Vicki!" I admonish. She has the grace to look chagrined. "This is the fourth time this month you've gotten into the flour! What is it with you and flour anyway?" I pick the little imp up and carry her to the bathroom with every intent on cleaning her up. Five minutes later, a marginally cleaner Vicki skimps happily from the bathroom while I emerge looking like some drenched German Shepherd. Absently, I walk into the kitchen, which looks like a tornado came through and destroyed the bag of flour. In a sort of detached fascination, I wring my braid out and fetch the mop to begin the arduous task of cleaning up after Her Highness. To my intense amusement, the water in my hair is nearly sufficient enough to clean nearly the entire area of the rather spacious kitchen. It's just as I toss the now-white washrag into the sink that Hilde walks in with a changed Vicki on her hip.
She raises an eyebrow at my appearance but only says, "See? Not so hard."
***
"Bye bye, Vicki. You take good care of Duo for me, kay?" Hilde requests of the baby. Vicki gives a lopsided grin and attempts to stick her entire fist into her mouth.
I idly remove said fist and wave the hand in a mockery of a wave. "Say 'goodbye and may you never come back' to Aunt Hilde, Vicki."
"Bye bye," the girl intones gravely.
Hilde opens her mouth to trade barbs with me when a yellow car toots -- and I mean toots, little puffs of steam coming out of the exhaust pipe and everything -- and pulls up to the curb. Hilde stares at the thing with a look of horror. I guess I sympathize -- I mean, you can hear the thing a mile away, and the bottom hinge of the driver's door comes loose when the man exits and he has to lift the door and put it back into place, with the ease of long practice, I might add. Plus it's yellow. Hate yellow cars.
I swallow back a laugh and say cheerfully, "There's your cab, Hilde! Look, that nice driver -- " who happens to look like a second cousin of Dr. G's, " -- is taking your bags to the trunk so I don't have to get any closer than I possibly need too. Bye." I beam. "Have fun in Washington, doing the date thing or whatever."
"Helping Sally nab Wufei," Hilde says absently as she watches the man dump her luggage -- expensive, designer stuff, I might add -- into the trunk. The whole front end of the car tips up. Hilde gives one of those small, hysterical laughs and cautiously sits in the backseat.
"Hey, little lady, yous don't have to sit all the way back here. Come'n sit up here next ta Fred." The man leers.
"Heh, that's quite all right. I love the backseat." The man shrugs and closes the door. Hilde's face contorts briefly behind the glass before she lowers the window and sticks her head out. "Bye guys! I'll be back soon. If I'm not killed on the way there," she mutters darkly as the man makes a racket kicking at the door. She sticks her head back in and says something about the condition of the handle as she rolls the window back up. Vicki and I watch bemusedly as the cab backfires, splutters to a start, and toots off down the road. I can imagine the color of Hilde's face.
***
Two days later
"Da, I goded on the big girl potty!" Vicki informs me when she toddles back into the kitchen.
I nod absently as I eye the level of the (new) flour I'm currently pouring into a measuring cup. "Good girl. Did you wash your hands?"
Vicki gives a little frown and pokes at the tummy left exposed by the t-shirt that's stretched to it's limits over her belly. "Ums..."
I sigh; that would mean no. "There's the sink. Wash 'em." After measuring out milk and butter, I begin to crack eggs into the mixing bowl. I stir and keep an eye on Vicki as she awkwardly removes the step from under the sink and climbs up two to reach. Stepping around her to get the blueberries from the refrigerator, I turn the faucet for her and return to the bowl to dump the ripe, blue fruit in.
"Bu-berries?" Vicki asks eagerly from where she's scrubbing her hands together vigorously at the sink. She gets off the step, leaving the water on, and runs over tug with wet hands on my pants.
I chuckle and turn the water off for her. "Yes. Bu-berry pancakes. You love 'em, don'tcha? Why don't you go watch TV or play while they cook."
Vicki screws up her face in indecision then nods. "Mmkay." She makes her way over to our kitchen table, which is similar to the booth one would see in a restaurant. Climbing into her booster seat, Vicki turns on the ceiling-mounted TV and channel surfs. I listen with half an ear as she flips through, eventually ending on the news station with a delightful cry of "News person!" I don't know why, but she likes the news. Must be those diplomatic genes.
I didn't realize then, as I half-heartedly listened to the newsman, how much his words would impact my life...
"After five short but heinous years behind the wheel of the drug trade, Kulev Mien is finally behind federal bars. The illustrious criminal controlled a prosperous drug trade stationed in the Czech Republic and neighboring countries Poland, Germany, Slovakia, and Austria, and sold drugs all over the world. On April 11th, Mien was apprehended in his attempt to assassinate Nicholi Cailhoun during his visit to U.S. Embassy stationed in the Czech Republic. Cailhoun has been the most ardent politician in the demand for Mien's arrest, donating large sums of his own personal money to the search and capture of the drug lord, headed by Japan's Preventers. Apparently, Cailhoun was considered a threat to Mien's continued safety in hiding. The assassin assigned by Mien to kill Mr. Cailhoun turned out to be an undercover Preventer. Head Captain Lady Une personally oversaw the assembly of a SWAT team, which captured Mien successfully. No one was injured. The undercover Preventers name was not disclosed by Preventers' Headquarters. Mien is sentenced to stand trial before a federal court sometime in October..."
If I had thought about it, I would've know just who that undercover officer was...
***
October 3, AC 204 (3 days later)
The plane, donated by none other than Mr. Quatre R. Winner himself, taxied gently to a stop on the runway outside of Tokyo. Luckily for it's passenger, there were only six people waiting for him, as the landing was a secret so the paparazzi would not hound the tired man as he stepped onto home soil for the first time in three years.
Trowa and Quatre waited with the patience that came easily to the green eyed man and was necessary for one as high up in the business chain as Quatre. Lady Une, surprisingly eager to participate in the scheme concocted by everyone present, impatiently awaited the disembarkment of her Preventer. Wufei stood with his customary cool indifference, but on the inside he, too, was curious about the man aboard the shuttle. Sally wondered absently, How many broken bones does he have this time?
The only member of the group impatiently fidgeting was Hilde. Certainly she would be a surprise to the visitor, but she would easily ignore his abrupt and, sometimes, rude manner for the sake of her friend. Besides, she'd never gotten to play matchmaker before. Her lips quirked in a smile that drew a suspicious glance from Wufei. It was bound to be fun, with this pair.
Heero stepped off the shuttle with an inward sigh and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the ache that came with typing up a report for seven hours straight. As his bleary eyes focused he noticed the people waiting for him across the runway. Turning around to collect his bags, he saw that they'd already been whisked away by one of the Magwanacs assigned to his plane by Quatre. With a shrug (he certainly had no aversion to carrying anything he didn't have to), he collected the only bag on him, his laptop's case, and started across the runway to the group waiting to receive him. They met him half way.
Heero found himself greeted in a variety of interesting ways. His hand was pumped vigorously by Trowa and Wufei, as they were not prone to more open shows of affection. Quatre, however, had no such reservations and he happily hugged Heero before stepping back and observing three years of wear and tear on the ex-Gundam pilot's body. Sally herself was halfway through a checkup before Lady Une suggested they start for headquarters. They did so, but not before Hilde got a glomp of her own in on a flabbergasted Heero. Hilde mentally added swirly eyes and a sweatdrop as Heero gaped at her in confusion.
"It's good to have you back, Heero." Lady Une finally got in her greeting as the seven sped toward Preventer's Headquarters in her "work" car, a spacious black limousine. Heero nodded absently to her, before his weary eyes resumed their continuous span around his environment. The former soldiers all noted the wary suspicion in his eyes and his tense shoulders, as though Heero were still inside Kulev's stronghold. Hilde remained happily oblivious.
Lady Une caught the eyes of her two main cohorts in this scheme, who gave her affirmative nods. Sally and Hilde then resumed grinning like lunatics, who - thankfully - went unnoticed by Heero. Une smothered her own grin, coughing softly into her palm.
Heero's eyes slid over to her, and, feeling that she had a least a third of his attention, Lady Une started to speak. "Heero," she began, "I really hate to do this to you so soon after you've returned..." She had his full attention now, she noted, biting on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Quatre, however, had no such self control and was laughing himself silly on the other side of the car, though he successfully hid it by faking a coughing fit. Trowa was pounding his back, visibly concerned because the Winner heir was beginning to turn a fair shade of red. Lady Une bit harder and continued, "But things on L2 are in a horrible mess right now... We're going to need to send you up there..."
Heero yawned pointedly.
Embarrassed, Lady Une hastened to say, "We'll discuss it at Headquarters."
The ride continued in silence save for the occasional wheeze from Quatre and the sound of either Trowa or Hilde's hand whapping him on the back.
Just before they reached Headquarters, Heero said, "Lady Une?"
She politely turned her eyes to him. "Yes?"
With ironic humor, "Don't I ever get a vacation?"
www.sympatico.ca
What About Me?
Chapter 4
***
September 28, A.C. 204 (Twenty-two months after Chapter Three)
"Hilde, you're really going to Washington? Vicki just turned three!"
Hilde disinterestedly shoved another shirt into her suitcase and turned to look at me over her shoulder, lips quirked in a smile. "Yeah. 14 days ago."
I dismiss that irrelevant piece of information with a elegant wave of my hand. "So? It's like a rule or something -- you have to stay at least until the end of the month."
Hilde gives up attempting to pack while I'm talking to her and turns around to face me. "Duo, the end of the month is in two days!"
I attempt to look nonchalant as I lean against the doorframe and examine my nails. "So?" I repeat.
Hilde props her hands on her hips and gives me a dubious look. "Surely you can take care of a three year old by yourself. Vicki's potty-trained and is a pretty good shot at getting the spoon in her mouth. It's not that difficult."
I protest, "She just got over her 'terrible two' stage two weeks ago!"
Hilde folds her arms over her chest and gives a Cheshire cat smile. "Just a minute ago, two weeks was nothing."
I scowl and graciously give in to defeat -- I stomp from the room like I am the toddler and huff downstairs to sit on the couch. After a minute Vicki wanders in from the kitchen colored a suspicious shade of white. "Da da," she greets me as she shimmies her way onto the couch. "I white."
I eye the handprints on the brown leather -- and myself -- and reply, "So I see." Vicki climbs her way into my lap. I gently wipe some of the mystery powder off of Vicki's cheek and sniff it. It doesn't smell peculiar, so I touch the tip of my finger to my tongue and pray to God for both Vicki and my own sakes' that it's not some poisonous substance. I'm vastly relieved to taste flour.
Wait a tic - flour? "Vicki!" I admonish. She has the grace to look chagrined. "This is the fourth time this month you've gotten into the flour! What is it with you and flour anyway?" I pick the little imp up and carry her to the bathroom with every intent on cleaning her up. Five minutes later, a marginally cleaner Vicki skimps happily from the bathroom while I emerge looking like some drenched German Shepherd. Absently, I walk into the kitchen, which looks like a tornado came through and destroyed the bag of flour. In a sort of detached fascination, I wring my braid out and fetch the mop to begin the arduous task of cleaning up after Her Highness. To my intense amusement, the water in my hair is nearly sufficient enough to clean nearly the entire area of the rather spacious kitchen. It's just as I toss the now-white washrag into the sink that Hilde walks in with a changed Vicki on her hip.
She raises an eyebrow at my appearance but only says, "See? Not so hard."
***
"Bye bye, Vicki. You take good care of Duo for me, kay?" Hilde requests of the baby. Vicki gives a lopsided grin and attempts to stick her entire fist into her mouth.
I idly remove said fist and wave the hand in a mockery of a wave. "Say 'goodbye and may you never come back' to Aunt Hilde, Vicki."
"Bye bye," the girl intones gravely.
Hilde opens her mouth to trade barbs with me when a yellow car toots -- and I mean toots, little puffs of steam coming out of the exhaust pipe and everything -- and pulls up to the curb. Hilde stares at the thing with a look of horror. I guess I sympathize -- I mean, you can hear the thing a mile away, and the bottom hinge of the driver's door comes loose when the man exits and he has to lift the door and put it back into place, with the ease of long practice, I might add. Plus it's yellow. Hate yellow cars.
I swallow back a laugh and say cheerfully, "There's your cab, Hilde! Look, that nice driver -- " who happens to look like a second cousin of Dr. G's, " -- is taking your bags to the trunk so I don't have to get any closer than I possibly need too. Bye." I beam. "Have fun in Washington, doing the date thing or whatever."
"Helping Sally nab Wufei," Hilde says absently as she watches the man dump her luggage -- expensive, designer stuff, I might add -- into the trunk. The whole front end of the car tips up. Hilde gives one of those small, hysterical laughs and cautiously sits in the backseat.
"Hey, little lady, yous don't have to sit all the way back here. Come'n sit up here next ta Fred." The man leers.
"Heh, that's quite all right. I love the backseat." The man shrugs and closes the door. Hilde's face contorts briefly behind the glass before she lowers the window and sticks her head out. "Bye guys! I'll be back soon. If I'm not killed on the way there," she mutters darkly as the man makes a racket kicking at the door. She sticks her head back in and says something about the condition of the handle as she rolls the window back up. Vicki and I watch bemusedly as the cab backfires, splutters to a start, and toots off down the road. I can imagine the color of Hilde's face.
***
Two days later
"Da, I goded on the big girl potty!" Vicki informs me when she toddles back into the kitchen.
I nod absently as I eye the level of the (new) flour I'm currently pouring into a measuring cup. "Good girl. Did you wash your hands?"
Vicki gives a little frown and pokes at the tummy left exposed by the t-shirt that's stretched to it's limits over her belly. "Ums..."
I sigh; that would mean no. "There's the sink. Wash 'em." After measuring out milk and butter, I begin to crack eggs into the mixing bowl. I stir and keep an eye on Vicki as she awkwardly removes the step from under the sink and climbs up two to reach. Stepping around her to get the blueberries from the refrigerator, I turn the faucet for her and return to the bowl to dump the ripe, blue fruit in.
"Bu-berries?" Vicki asks eagerly from where she's scrubbing her hands together vigorously at the sink. She gets off the step, leaving the water on, and runs over tug with wet hands on my pants.
I chuckle and turn the water off for her. "Yes. Bu-berry pancakes. You love 'em, don'tcha? Why don't you go watch TV or play while they cook."
Vicki screws up her face in indecision then nods. "Mmkay." She makes her way over to our kitchen table, which is similar to the booth one would see in a restaurant. Climbing into her booster seat, Vicki turns on the ceiling-mounted TV and channel surfs. I listen with half an ear as she flips through, eventually ending on the news station with a delightful cry of "News person!" I don't know why, but she likes the news. Must be those diplomatic genes.
I didn't realize then, as I half-heartedly listened to the newsman, how much his words would impact my life...
"After five short but heinous years behind the wheel of the drug trade, Kulev Mien is finally behind federal bars. The illustrious criminal controlled a prosperous drug trade stationed in the Czech Republic and neighboring countries Poland, Germany, Slovakia, and Austria, and sold drugs all over the world. On April 11th, Mien was apprehended in his attempt to assassinate Nicholi Cailhoun during his visit to U.S. Embassy stationed in the Czech Republic. Cailhoun has been the most ardent politician in the demand for Mien's arrest, donating large sums of his own personal money to the search and capture of the drug lord, headed by Japan's Preventers. Apparently, Cailhoun was considered a threat to Mien's continued safety in hiding. The assassin assigned by Mien to kill Mr. Cailhoun turned out to be an undercover Preventer. Head Captain Lady Une personally oversaw the assembly of a SWAT team, which captured Mien successfully. No one was injured. The undercover Preventers name was not disclosed by Preventers' Headquarters. Mien is sentenced to stand trial before a federal court sometime in October..."
If I had thought about it, I would've know just who that undercover officer was...
***
October 3, AC 204 (3 days later)
The plane, donated by none other than Mr. Quatre R. Winner himself, taxied gently to a stop on the runway outside of Tokyo. Luckily for it's passenger, there were only six people waiting for him, as the landing was a secret so the paparazzi would not hound the tired man as he stepped onto home soil for the first time in three years.
Trowa and Quatre waited with the patience that came easily to the green eyed man and was necessary for one as high up in the business chain as Quatre. Lady Une, surprisingly eager to participate in the scheme concocted by everyone present, impatiently awaited the disembarkment of her Preventer. Wufei stood with his customary cool indifference, but on the inside he, too, was curious about the man aboard the shuttle. Sally wondered absently, How many broken bones does he have this time?
The only member of the group impatiently fidgeting was Hilde. Certainly she would be a surprise to the visitor, but she would easily ignore his abrupt and, sometimes, rude manner for the sake of her friend. Besides, she'd never gotten to play matchmaker before. Her lips quirked in a smile that drew a suspicious glance from Wufei. It was bound to be fun, with this pair.
Heero stepped off the shuttle with an inward sigh and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the ache that came with typing up a report for seven hours straight. As his bleary eyes focused he noticed the people waiting for him across the runway. Turning around to collect his bags, he saw that they'd already been whisked away by one of the Magwanacs assigned to his plane by Quatre. With a shrug (he certainly had no aversion to carrying anything he didn't have to), he collected the only bag on him, his laptop's case, and started across the runway to the group waiting to receive him. They met him half way.
Heero found himself greeted in a variety of interesting ways. His hand was pumped vigorously by Trowa and Wufei, as they were not prone to more open shows of affection. Quatre, however, had no such reservations and he happily hugged Heero before stepping back and observing three years of wear and tear on the ex-Gundam pilot's body. Sally herself was halfway through a checkup before Lady Une suggested they start for headquarters. They did so, but not before Hilde got a glomp of her own in on a flabbergasted Heero. Hilde mentally added swirly eyes and a sweatdrop as Heero gaped at her in confusion.
"It's good to have you back, Heero." Lady Une finally got in her greeting as the seven sped toward Preventer's Headquarters in her "work" car, a spacious black limousine. Heero nodded absently to her, before his weary eyes resumed their continuous span around his environment. The former soldiers all noted the wary suspicion in his eyes and his tense shoulders, as though Heero were still inside Kulev's stronghold. Hilde remained happily oblivious.
Lady Une caught the eyes of her two main cohorts in this scheme, who gave her affirmative nods. Sally and Hilde then resumed grinning like lunatics, who - thankfully - went unnoticed by Heero. Une smothered her own grin, coughing softly into her palm.
Heero's eyes slid over to her, and, feeling that she had a least a third of his attention, Lady Une started to speak. "Heero," she began, "I really hate to do this to you so soon after you've returned..." She had his full attention now, she noted, biting on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Quatre, however, had no such self control and was laughing himself silly on the other side of the car, though he successfully hid it by faking a coughing fit. Trowa was pounding his back, visibly concerned because the Winner heir was beginning to turn a fair shade of red. Lady Une bit harder and continued, "But things on L2 are in a horrible mess right now... We're going to need to send you up there..."
Heero yawned pointedly.
Embarrassed, Lady Une hastened to say, "We'll discuss it at Headquarters."
The ride continued in silence save for the occasional wheeze from Quatre and the sound of either Trowa or Hilde's hand whapping him on the back.
Just before they reached Headquarters, Heero said, "Lady Une?"
She politely turned her eyes to him. "Yes?"
With ironic humor, "Don't I ever get a vacation?"