Our chief want in life is somebody who can make us do what we can. Having
found them, we shall hate them for it. -Ralf Waldo Emerson
____________________________________________________________________~*~
"Trowa..." Quatre couldn't believe the scene before him as he walked slowly into the room. He'd come looking for something in Rashid's room when he'd realized the room wasn't empty. Could that trembling heap on the bed really be the proud, silent boy he'd met earlier today? "What ha-happened to you?!"
Trowa imidiately hid his face and tried to roll off the bed when he saw who it was that had come into the room, but only succeeded in shooting more pain up his back and into his hands. "Leave me alone."
Quatre switched on the light on came further into the room, closer to the bed. "Oh! What...how-how did this happen?!"
Trowa gave no answer, simply lay there and stared at the ceiling. Quatre moved toward the bed, reaching out a hand to the other boy's thickly wrapped hands. Trowa jerked away from him. "Get away. Don't touch me."
Quatre stared at Trowa with worried concern, not sure what he was supposed to do in the face of the boy's hostility, only knowing that he had to do something. He reached over to touch Trowa's shoulder, "Here, let me see your back, it's covered in blood, it looks like someone-"
"I said don't touch me!" This time the young boy managed to roll all the way off the bed and fell with a thump to the floor on the other side.
This time Quatre simply stood and stared down at him, his eyes wide and innocent, then a frown formed between his eyebrows, "Well, if you won't let me help you, then I'll get someone who will."
His hands useless to him at the moment, Trowa wrapped his arm around the blond boy's ankle and clung, "No," came his fierce reply, "why can't you just mind your own buisness and forget you ever saw me?"
Crossing his arms Quatre attempted to sound just as fierce, "Because you're hurt and I can't just forget about that! Would you like me to just leave you there on the floor, bleeding to death? No! I won't. Now, I'm going to find one of the Maganacs."
Thinking that the injured boy would let go of his ankle, he made a lunge for the door and promptly, fell on top of Trowa. The air was knocked out of him and he lay gasping frantically against Trowa's chest. Seeing his advantage, the bigger boy rolled over and put himself on top of Quatre, caging his hands. "I mean it Quatre," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Just leave this alone, pretend it never happened. You're just going to make the situation worse."
Catching his breath, Quatre pushed against his shoulders. "No! You need help and I won't give up until you'll let me!"
Tilting his head sardonically, enjoying the small bit of power he wielded over the smaller boy, he pushed his face closer to Quatre's, "Like you could budge me."
Quatre's eyes flared in shock, then a determined gleam lit the green-blue depths of his eyes. "Oh yeah?" his male pride which was rarely bruised, if ever, had taken beating enough and he took advantage of the taller boy's injuries, struggling to roll him over. Trowa fought back, but his back was screaming in pain and finally Quatre had him on his back. "Ha!" Quatre's face shone with triumph.
Never one to give up a fair fight, Trowa was soon fighting back with all his strength and both boys ended up tumbling in a mass of arms and legs across the carpet. Hitting the wall together they both struggled to see who could get the other boy against it. The numerous brushes of the blond boy's soft hair against Trowa's naked chest and arms were taking their toll on one of his most guarded, secret vulnerabilities.
Quatre imidiately stopped pushing against his green-eyed foe when he saw that he had buried his face in the carpet and was trembling. "Trowa?" he shook him. "What's wrong, did I hurt you?" he reached out and took hold of his side, trying to roll him over, but only succeeded in doing it partially, but now he could hear strange muffled sounds coming out of the boy. What was wrong with him? Was he crying? he wondered, Trowa, crying? On his second attempt he managed to roll him all the way over and was taken by surprise at what he saw. Tears of mirth were running down his face and he was shaking not from pain or fear, but from laughter.
That's when it finally clicked in. "You're ticklish, aren't you?" Quatre asked with a grin. Having regained control of himself, Trowa gave him his best sullen expression, but he new he wasn't fooling the other boy when he saw the gleam in his eye.
"No! No, I'm-" But it was too late, Quatre fell on him with deadly intent. "Ah! No, stop! Please!" Trowa gasped between helpless bouts of laughter.
Laughing along with him, enjoying this new game, Quatre tickled him mercilessly, somehow, he had the feeling this boy had not laughed very often in his life, if this was the only way he could help another in need, then he would gladly put himself through it.
"Stop, stop!" Trying to give the smaller boy one of his deadly looks, he only succeeded in laughing harder. When he tried to grab his wrists or push his head away, his limbs wouldn't cooperate with him, they were too weak from the merciless torture he was being put through. "Stop! Please I'll do anything!"
Quatre stopped imidiately and tilted his head, "Anything? Like even letting me help you?"
Frustrated, Trowa glared at him, "I told you I-"
The door slammed against the wall so hard, Trowa actually felt the walls shake. Quatre jumped off of him, a guilty look on his face.
"What is going on in here?! Excuse my interuption little brother, but some people are trying to SLEEP!! If you want to rough around with your little friend, then do it somewhere away from my BEDROOM!!"
Trowa was surprised when an older girl with flaming red hair stormed into the room, glaring daggers at both of them. She didn't really seem to be that big though, he wondered if she was always this loud and emotional.
Quatre stood up and scratched his tousled head. "Aw, we were just playing Asghari, we weren't even being that loud. Please don't tell dad, I was just trying to help him anyway, he's hurt."
The flame haired she-devil narrowed her eyes at him and came further into the room. "Hey...I know who you are, you're the famous Gosfridous's son aren't you?" She frowned at him. "What happened to your hands? And...why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Feeling trapped and wary he backed away from Quatre. What had started out as a bad day had suddenly turned into a series of painful injuries that had all started with his stupidness, if he'd only stayed in the room Quatre had left him in none of this would have happened. He made a bolt for the door and managed to get past the older girl and down the hallway.
"Hey!" came her indignant reply
Then the smaller boy's more gentle voice. "Trowa! Trowa, wait!"
He didn't know where he was running, only that he had to get away. Down a flight of stairs, around a corner, onto a balcony, he could see the stars shining above him. Down another flight of stairs, and finally, he was outside, in blessed darkness with the soothing quiet of the night curling around him like a soft blanket. Finally he was safe.
"Trowa! TROWA!! Where are you?"
Great, now this kid was going to wake up the whole palace and the beating he'd just recieved would be nothing compared to what he would endure now.
He turned around to face the other boy then saw what he'd been fearing, lights were being turned on in the palace and angry voices could be heard, footsteps. "Quatre!" he hissed. "Stop yelling, I'm right here."
A small shape in the night raced up to him. "Why did you go and run away like that? Are you afraid of Asghari?"
Trowa glared at the almost invisible shape. "I'm not afraid of anything." he muttered
"Then why were you running away? I thought we were friends."
He started to reply that he had no friends but was stopped by the sound of voices coming nearer, their words becoming dicernable. "Master Quatre! Master Quatre, where are you!"
Quickly, Trowa grabbed his small arm, "Quatre, is there a place I can hide?"
"I always like to ride out to the desert, there's a place I like to go, it's my secret hiding place. Come on I'll show you!" There was giddy excitement in his voice as he took hold of Trowa's arm and led him further into the night.
Trowa heaved a mental sigh, can't he just leave me alone? Before long, a giant building was looming before them and the voices had faded behind them. It was the stables, Trowa realized. Images of burning hay and an scalding pain flashed through his mind and he halted.
Quatre turned around. "What's wrong?"
Trowa stared at the ground and pulled his arm out of the smaller boy's grasp.
"You're not afraid of horses are you? That's ok, Trowa, Aquilla's very friendly."
He gently rubbed one of his damaged hands with his other one, wincing as it started to burn even more. Why hadn't he just stayed in the tower?
"Trowa..." Quatre stepped closer to him, concern in his voice. Suddenly the sounds of the men could be heard once again, they were coming closer.
Trowa swallowed and looked up at what he could see of Quatre's face. "Let's go."
*********************************************
Arabid Baboi Winner looked up from staring into the fire as the door to his study was quietly closed. Gosfridus Nikolause Barton was a large man from anyone's standards, but then, he always had been big for his age even when they had been younger. Must be all that borsch he eats over in Germany, Arabid thought hiding a smile. Although his son Trowa showed no signs of ever indulging in the usually more fatty foods of his cold country.
"Come sit by the fire with me old friend. How did it go with your son?"
Gosfridus grunted as he lowered himself carefully into a chair. "That boy was up to no good. Never did think he was worth all the trouble he causes." Gosfridus met his eyes from across the room and Arabid was hit with the strangest notion that those familiar smoldering, black eyes were measuring and sizing him up. But of course that was ridiculas. It must be the firelight.
"I give you my sincere apologies that it will not happen again."
He laughed, "Oh think nothing of it Gosfridus. Children will be children."
Gosfridus's expression turned dark, but he said nothing.
Arabid settled back in his chair. "Well now, Gosfridus, what's this I hear of you wanting a second connection with the Winner family? Would this have anything to do with marriage I wonder...?
Gosfridus eyed him from across the room, then chuckled. "Marriage would do great things for both our clans, no?" He pulled a cigar out of a pockets and lit up, letting smoke stream from his mouth before he continued. "Hell, how many daughters is it you have now you 'ole devil? Six? Ten? Fifteen? Wouldn't give up 'till you had your boy hmm?"
Arabid shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Gosfridus's intent gaze. "I never did tell you the whole story did I? We have been best friends since our childhood and it is hard to stay connected when we live so far apart..."
Cigar halfway to his mouth, his hand stilled. "What are you saying, Arabid? That these girls aren't your daughters?"
Feeling his chest tightening, Arabid tried to stay calm. "Well of course they are my daughters, they always have been in every sense that matters. I love them like they are my own flesh and blood.
Gosfridus's eyes flared in shock. "What?! Are you telling me you adopted every single one of them?"
He wondered why his old friend was getting so upset about this, what did it matter if they hadn't come from his own flesh? He loved them just as any father would. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "They didn't come from 29 different mothers, they came from 29 artificial wombs that nursed them to life. They're test tube babies, Gosfridus."
Gosfridus reeled back as if he'd slapped him. "What were you thinking?! How could you-"
"What does it matter? They are my daughters and special in every way, they are all entitled to their fair share of the Winner fortune."
Gosfridus fairly spat the word. "Test tube babies. The lot of them! Despicable, disgusting creatures." he sneered evilly. "They're not even real. They'll never turn out to be anything better than worthless sluts and- "
"ENOUGH!! You are my friend, but I will not have you speak of my daughters in such a way. How could you Gosfridus..."
Gosfridus watched cynically as his so called old friend trailed off. A hurt, confused look crossing his face. Pathetic. Arabid had never been one to hide his feelings, or his compassion. He was nothing but a weak, worthless fool who would soon learn that honesty and kindness would be his downfall. When he was gone and past, Trowa would take his place, he would make sure any son of his never turned into the spineless, sniveling fool like he was sure Arabid was training his son to be. Trowa would tear down the Winner family, just as he was meant to do.
He chuckled evilly to himself as he strode from the room and Arabid's stricken expression.
******************************************************
Trowa wondered how much more insane his life could become before this day was over. This was all too much, moving too fast, a thousand jumbled, confusing, painful events all hurled at him one after the other. He needed to get away, find a nice little dark corner to crawl into and never come out....
"Hey Trowa! We're almost here! This is so great, you're gonna love it, I've never showed this place to anyone before!"
As he felt the smaller boy's excitement vibrating against his back, Trowa doubted very much that he would get any peace and quiet for a long, long time. Sighing silently to himself, he stared out into the never ending darkness of the desert and was suddenly glad of Quatre's arms surrounding him, holding the reins of his small horse. This energetic boy helped take his mind off of the barren hopelessness of his life. Everyday waiting for that next beating to come...
"We're heeeere!" the boy sang out in a sing song voice, letting go of the reins and easily leaping off his horse. "Hey Trowa, do you need any help? Your back looked like it got hurt really bad."
Trowa gave a sharp jerk of his head and glared down at the boy, realizing even then that the boy probably couldn't even see him. "No," he muttered determinedly instead and attempted the quick leap off the horse as Quatre had. And failed miserably.
"Oomph!" he landed on the ground with a sickening thud and felt the welts on his back start to bleed again.
Quatre rushed over and fell to his knees beside him. "Oh Trowa! Are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need me to go get Rashid? Or maybe I can get Mahalah...yes Mahalah's really good at fixing-"
Brushing him aside, Trowa got to his feet unsteadly and staggered a few feet away, hoping Quatre would get the picture and leave him alone. He gave a silent sigh of relief when he heard his footsteps treading in the other direction, then a small glow of light lit up the darkness of the night and illuminated a small alcove of rocks nearby.
"Hey Trowa! Come see my secret hiding place, I got a really good stash of cookies here and some clothes if you want a shirt!"
Wearily he watched the small fire Quatre had started and the small shape of the blond boy as he huddled over the fire, trying to make it bigger. Cookies did sound good, he hadn't eaten all day, and he did need another shirt... Still a little unsteady on his feet, he walked over to the little alcove and sat down on the giant embroidered rug that was spread across the stone bottom. He also noticed several boxes of cookies, a flash light, a small sleeping bag, a large thermos and a pile of clothes all sitting in a corner behind Quatre.
Quatre sat back on his heels and grinned at him, then reached back behind him and grabbed a bundle of clothing, shoving them into his hands. "Here, you're probably cold even though this fire is pretty warm. I made it myself you know," he held up a box of matches proudly. "I come out here all the time you know, when no one knows I'm gone, and..."
Only half listening to the blond boy's excited babbling, Trowa selected a huge, brown shirt from the pile of clothes and pulled it over his head, frowning as he felt the strange material rub against his skin.
"....in fact I don't even think Rashid or the maganacs know about this place, so we can sleep here tonight. You're the first person I've ever shown it to. Isn't that great? I mean this is like our own secret place where no one knows about and we can come here allll the time! Hey, do you want some cookies? And some herbal tea? Well of course you are. Mr. Barton said you couldn't have supper because you were bad and I thought that was really mean and it was your first day here...."
Quatre happily chattered away in his soft, excited voice as he handed Trowa the a box of cookies and a cup of some strange red substance. He didn't really like the smell of it, or the taste but he forced down both. Feeling oddly at peace, he felt his muscles, which had been tense most of the day start to loosen and he finally let himself relax, finding Quatre's soft voice and even his presence soothing.
"Did your father do that to your back, Trowa?"
The boy's words startled him back to reality and his gaze flew up into the blue-green depths of his concerned eyes. "Hn." he muttered uncomfortably.
His eyebrows furrowed. "But why? How-how could he do such a thing to you? You're his son and-"
"It doesn't matter. Don't talk about it."
"But-but..."
He gave Quatre a hard look and he didn't say anything more. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound that of the desert animals going about their night lives.
"Trowa...I...I have to know, did your father do that to your hands too? I can't just not talk about this! Your father's hurting you and I want to help you and I have to know-"
"No." Realizing this boy was not going to leave well enough alone, Trowa decided to distract him, at least for a while. He studied his bandaged hands, then flexed them hesitantly. "I'll show you." He gently pulled out the marbles from one of his pockets and threw them into the air, ignoring the pain that it caused his aching hands as he juggled them through the air.
Quatre watched in wide eyed wonder as the crystal spheres began to glow and change colours, little images beginning to appear in each. For the first time he seemed at a loss for words.
He concentrated and suddenly little images of the blond haired boy began to appear in each orb.
"Wow Trowa! That's amazing! Are you a magician? Or a wizard? That would be so cool! You have to show me how to do that! Wait-you said your father didn't do that to your hands... does that mean that these did? But how and- "
"Hn, your stables were going to burn down, I had to stop it."
Turning his eyes slowly from the twirling fire balls, Quatre met his eyes. "You mean...you tried to put out the fire with your HANDS? Trowa, that's crazy! Is that why your father beat you? Becuase of THAT?! But that's awful, how could he do duch a thing and because of that..."
Trowa put his head in his hands and sighed, why had he even told him? Now he was angrily ranting on over something that shouldn't even matter to him? He was acting as if he really cared what happened to him, but that was crazy, no one cared about him and certainly not his beatings, no one would dare call his father an unfair man, no one would...
His thoughts suddenly came to an abrupt stop when he felt Quatre's small arms surrounding him, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Don't worry Trowa, I'll make sure you have the best summer ever with me, and I'll protect you.
Staring up at a sky almost completely covered with clouds, a small smile played across Trowa's face andhe felt a glimmer of hope spread through him as he thought about the long summer days ahead of him.
____________________________________________________________________~*~
"Trowa..." Quatre couldn't believe the scene before him as he walked slowly into the room. He'd come looking for something in Rashid's room when he'd realized the room wasn't empty. Could that trembling heap on the bed really be the proud, silent boy he'd met earlier today? "What ha-happened to you?!"
Trowa imidiately hid his face and tried to roll off the bed when he saw who it was that had come into the room, but only succeeded in shooting more pain up his back and into his hands. "Leave me alone."
Quatre switched on the light on came further into the room, closer to the bed. "Oh! What...how-how did this happen?!"
Trowa gave no answer, simply lay there and stared at the ceiling. Quatre moved toward the bed, reaching out a hand to the other boy's thickly wrapped hands. Trowa jerked away from him. "Get away. Don't touch me."
Quatre stared at Trowa with worried concern, not sure what he was supposed to do in the face of the boy's hostility, only knowing that he had to do something. He reached over to touch Trowa's shoulder, "Here, let me see your back, it's covered in blood, it looks like someone-"
"I said don't touch me!" This time the young boy managed to roll all the way off the bed and fell with a thump to the floor on the other side.
This time Quatre simply stood and stared down at him, his eyes wide and innocent, then a frown formed between his eyebrows, "Well, if you won't let me help you, then I'll get someone who will."
His hands useless to him at the moment, Trowa wrapped his arm around the blond boy's ankle and clung, "No," came his fierce reply, "why can't you just mind your own buisness and forget you ever saw me?"
Crossing his arms Quatre attempted to sound just as fierce, "Because you're hurt and I can't just forget about that! Would you like me to just leave you there on the floor, bleeding to death? No! I won't. Now, I'm going to find one of the Maganacs."
Thinking that the injured boy would let go of his ankle, he made a lunge for the door and promptly, fell on top of Trowa. The air was knocked out of him and he lay gasping frantically against Trowa's chest. Seeing his advantage, the bigger boy rolled over and put himself on top of Quatre, caging his hands. "I mean it Quatre," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Just leave this alone, pretend it never happened. You're just going to make the situation worse."
Catching his breath, Quatre pushed against his shoulders. "No! You need help and I won't give up until you'll let me!"
Tilting his head sardonically, enjoying the small bit of power he wielded over the smaller boy, he pushed his face closer to Quatre's, "Like you could budge me."
Quatre's eyes flared in shock, then a determined gleam lit the green-blue depths of his eyes. "Oh yeah?" his male pride which was rarely bruised, if ever, had taken beating enough and he took advantage of the taller boy's injuries, struggling to roll him over. Trowa fought back, but his back was screaming in pain and finally Quatre had him on his back. "Ha!" Quatre's face shone with triumph.
Never one to give up a fair fight, Trowa was soon fighting back with all his strength and both boys ended up tumbling in a mass of arms and legs across the carpet. Hitting the wall together they both struggled to see who could get the other boy against it. The numerous brushes of the blond boy's soft hair against Trowa's naked chest and arms were taking their toll on one of his most guarded, secret vulnerabilities.
Quatre imidiately stopped pushing against his green-eyed foe when he saw that he had buried his face in the carpet and was trembling. "Trowa?" he shook him. "What's wrong, did I hurt you?" he reached out and took hold of his side, trying to roll him over, but only succeeded in doing it partially, but now he could hear strange muffled sounds coming out of the boy. What was wrong with him? Was he crying? he wondered, Trowa, crying? On his second attempt he managed to roll him all the way over and was taken by surprise at what he saw. Tears of mirth were running down his face and he was shaking not from pain or fear, but from laughter.
That's when it finally clicked in. "You're ticklish, aren't you?" Quatre asked with a grin. Having regained control of himself, Trowa gave him his best sullen expression, but he new he wasn't fooling the other boy when he saw the gleam in his eye.
"No! No, I'm-" But it was too late, Quatre fell on him with deadly intent. "Ah! No, stop! Please!" Trowa gasped between helpless bouts of laughter.
Laughing along with him, enjoying this new game, Quatre tickled him mercilessly, somehow, he had the feeling this boy had not laughed very often in his life, if this was the only way he could help another in need, then he would gladly put himself through it.
"Stop, stop!" Trying to give the smaller boy one of his deadly looks, he only succeeded in laughing harder. When he tried to grab his wrists or push his head away, his limbs wouldn't cooperate with him, they were too weak from the merciless torture he was being put through. "Stop! Please I'll do anything!"
Quatre stopped imidiately and tilted his head, "Anything? Like even letting me help you?"
Frustrated, Trowa glared at him, "I told you I-"
The door slammed against the wall so hard, Trowa actually felt the walls shake. Quatre jumped off of him, a guilty look on his face.
"What is going on in here?! Excuse my interuption little brother, but some people are trying to SLEEP!! If you want to rough around with your little friend, then do it somewhere away from my BEDROOM!!"
Trowa was surprised when an older girl with flaming red hair stormed into the room, glaring daggers at both of them. She didn't really seem to be that big though, he wondered if she was always this loud and emotional.
Quatre stood up and scratched his tousled head. "Aw, we were just playing Asghari, we weren't even being that loud. Please don't tell dad, I was just trying to help him anyway, he's hurt."
The flame haired she-devil narrowed her eyes at him and came further into the room. "Hey...I know who you are, you're the famous Gosfridous's son aren't you?" She frowned at him. "What happened to your hands? And...why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Feeling trapped and wary he backed away from Quatre. What had started out as a bad day had suddenly turned into a series of painful injuries that had all started with his stupidness, if he'd only stayed in the room Quatre had left him in none of this would have happened. He made a bolt for the door and managed to get past the older girl and down the hallway.
"Hey!" came her indignant reply
Then the smaller boy's more gentle voice. "Trowa! Trowa, wait!"
He didn't know where he was running, only that he had to get away. Down a flight of stairs, around a corner, onto a balcony, he could see the stars shining above him. Down another flight of stairs, and finally, he was outside, in blessed darkness with the soothing quiet of the night curling around him like a soft blanket. Finally he was safe.
"Trowa! TROWA!! Where are you?"
Great, now this kid was going to wake up the whole palace and the beating he'd just recieved would be nothing compared to what he would endure now.
He turned around to face the other boy then saw what he'd been fearing, lights were being turned on in the palace and angry voices could be heard, footsteps. "Quatre!" he hissed. "Stop yelling, I'm right here."
A small shape in the night raced up to him. "Why did you go and run away like that? Are you afraid of Asghari?"
Trowa glared at the almost invisible shape. "I'm not afraid of anything." he muttered
"Then why were you running away? I thought we were friends."
He started to reply that he had no friends but was stopped by the sound of voices coming nearer, their words becoming dicernable. "Master Quatre! Master Quatre, where are you!"
Quickly, Trowa grabbed his small arm, "Quatre, is there a place I can hide?"
"I always like to ride out to the desert, there's a place I like to go, it's my secret hiding place. Come on I'll show you!" There was giddy excitement in his voice as he took hold of Trowa's arm and led him further into the night.
Trowa heaved a mental sigh, can't he just leave me alone? Before long, a giant building was looming before them and the voices had faded behind them. It was the stables, Trowa realized. Images of burning hay and an scalding pain flashed through his mind and he halted.
Quatre turned around. "What's wrong?"
Trowa stared at the ground and pulled his arm out of the smaller boy's grasp.
"You're not afraid of horses are you? That's ok, Trowa, Aquilla's very friendly."
He gently rubbed one of his damaged hands with his other one, wincing as it started to burn even more. Why hadn't he just stayed in the tower?
"Trowa..." Quatre stepped closer to him, concern in his voice. Suddenly the sounds of the men could be heard once again, they were coming closer.
Trowa swallowed and looked up at what he could see of Quatre's face. "Let's go."
*********************************************
Arabid Baboi Winner looked up from staring into the fire as the door to his study was quietly closed. Gosfridus Nikolause Barton was a large man from anyone's standards, but then, he always had been big for his age even when they had been younger. Must be all that borsch he eats over in Germany, Arabid thought hiding a smile. Although his son Trowa showed no signs of ever indulging in the usually more fatty foods of his cold country.
"Come sit by the fire with me old friend. How did it go with your son?"
Gosfridus grunted as he lowered himself carefully into a chair. "That boy was up to no good. Never did think he was worth all the trouble he causes." Gosfridus met his eyes from across the room and Arabid was hit with the strangest notion that those familiar smoldering, black eyes were measuring and sizing him up. But of course that was ridiculas. It must be the firelight.
"I give you my sincere apologies that it will not happen again."
He laughed, "Oh think nothing of it Gosfridus. Children will be children."
Gosfridus's expression turned dark, but he said nothing.
Arabid settled back in his chair. "Well now, Gosfridus, what's this I hear of you wanting a second connection with the Winner family? Would this have anything to do with marriage I wonder...?
Gosfridus eyed him from across the room, then chuckled. "Marriage would do great things for both our clans, no?" He pulled a cigar out of a pockets and lit up, letting smoke stream from his mouth before he continued. "Hell, how many daughters is it you have now you 'ole devil? Six? Ten? Fifteen? Wouldn't give up 'till you had your boy hmm?"
Arabid shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Gosfridus's intent gaze. "I never did tell you the whole story did I? We have been best friends since our childhood and it is hard to stay connected when we live so far apart..."
Cigar halfway to his mouth, his hand stilled. "What are you saying, Arabid? That these girls aren't your daughters?"
Feeling his chest tightening, Arabid tried to stay calm. "Well of course they are my daughters, they always have been in every sense that matters. I love them like they are my own flesh and blood.
Gosfridus's eyes flared in shock. "What?! Are you telling me you adopted every single one of them?"
He wondered why his old friend was getting so upset about this, what did it matter if they hadn't come from his own flesh? He loved them just as any father would. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "They didn't come from 29 different mothers, they came from 29 artificial wombs that nursed them to life. They're test tube babies, Gosfridus."
Gosfridus reeled back as if he'd slapped him. "What were you thinking?! How could you-"
"What does it matter? They are my daughters and special in every way, they are all entitled to their fair share of the Winner fortune."
Gosfridus fairly spat the word. "Test tube babies. The lot of them! Despicable, disgusting creatures." he sneered evilly. "They're not even real. They'll never turn out to be anything better than worthless sluts and- "
"ENOUGH!! You are my friend, but I will not have you speak of my daughters in such a way. How could you Gosfridus..."
Gosfridus watched cynically as his so called old friend trailed off. A hurt, confused look crossing his face. Pathetic. Arabid had never been one to hide his feelings, or his compassion. He was nothing but a weak, worthless fool who would soon learn that honesty and kindness would be his downfall. When he was gone and past, Trowa would take his place, he would make sure any son of his never turned into the spineless, sniveling fool like he was sure Arabid was training his son to be. Trowa would tear down the Winner family, just as he was meant to do.
He chuckled evilly to himself as he strode from the room and Arabid's stricken expression.
******************************************************
Trowa wondered how much more insane his life could become before this day was over. This was all too much, moving too fast, a thousand jumbled, confusing, painful events all hurled at him one after the other. He needed to get away, find a nice little dark corner to crawl into and never come out....
"Hey Trowa! We're almost here! This is so great, you're gonna love it, I've never showed this place to anyone before!"
As he felt the smaller boy's excitement vibrating against his back, Trowa doubted very much that he would get any peace and quiet for a long, long time. Sighing silently to himself, he stared out into the never ending darkness of the desert and was suddenly glad of Quatre's arms surrounding him, holding the reins of his small horse. This energetic boy helped take his mind off of the barren hopelessness of his life. Everyday waiting for that next beating to come...
"We're heeeere!" the boy sang out in a sing song voice, letting go of the reins and easily leaping off his horse. "Hey Trowa, do you need any help? Your back looked like it got hurt really bad."
Trowa gave a sharp jerk of his head and glared down at the boy, realizing even then that the boy probably couldn't even see him. "No," he muttered determinedly instead and attempted the quick leap off the horse as Quatre had. And failed miserably.
"Oomph!" he landed on the ground with a sickening thud and felt the welts on his back start to bleed again.
Quatre rushed over and fell to his knees beside him. "Oh Trowa! Are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need me to go get Rashid? Or maybe I can get Mahalah...yes Mahalah's really good at fixing-"
Brushing him aside, Trowa got to his feet unsteadly and staggered a few feet away, hoping Quatre would get the picture and leave him alone. He gave a silent sigh of relief when he heard his footsteps treading in the other direction, then a small glow of light lit up the darkness of the night and illuminated a small alcove of rocks nearby.
"Hey Trowa! Come see my secret hiding place, I got a really good stash of cookies here and some clothes if you want a shirt!"
Wearily he watched the small fire Quatre had started and the small shape of the blond boy as he huddled over the fire, trying to make it bigger. Cookies did sound good, he hadn't eaten all day, and he did need another shirt... Still a little unsteady on his feet, he walked over to the little alcove and sat down on the giant embroidered rug that was spread across the stone bottom. He also noticed several boxes of cookies, a flash light, a small sleeping bag, a large thermos and a pile of clothes all sitting in a corner behind Quatre.
Quatre sat back on his heels and grinned at him, then reached back behind him and grabbed a bundle of clothing, shoving them into his hands. "Here, you're probably cold even though this fire is pretty warm. I made it myself you know," he held up a box of matches proudly. "I come out here all the time you know, when no one knows I'm gone, and..."
Only half listening to the blond boy's excited babbling, Trowa selected a huge, brown shirt from the pile of clothes and pulled it over his head, frowning as he felt the strange material rub against his skin.
"....in fact I don't even think Rashid or the maganacs know about this place, so we can sleep here tonight. You're the first person I've ever shown it to. Isn't that great? I mean this is like our own secret place where no one knows about and we can come here allll the time! Hey, do you want some cookies? And some herbal tea? Well of course you are. Mr. Barton said you couldn't have supper because you were bad and I thought that was really mean and it was your first day here...."
Quatre happily chattered away in his soft, excited voice as he handed Trowa the a box of cookies and a cup of some strange red substance. He didn't really like the smell of it, or the taste but he forced down both. Feeling oddly at peace, he felt his muscles, which had been tense most of the day start to loosen and he finally let himself relax, finding Quatre's soft voice and even his presence soothing.
"Did your father do that to your back, Trowa?"
The boy's words startled him back to reality and his gaze flew up into the blue-green depths of his concerned eyes. "Hn." he muttered uncomfortably.
His eyebrows furrowed. "But why? How-how could he do such a thing to you? You're his son and-"
"It doesn't matter. Don't talk about it."
"But-but..."
He gave Quatre a hard look and he didn't say anything more. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound that of the desert animals going about their night lives.
"Trowa...I...I have to know, did your father do that to your hands too? I can't just not talk about this! Your father's hurting you and I want to help you and I have to know-"
"No." Realizing this boy was not going to leave well enough alone, Trowa decided to distract him, at least for a while. He studied his bandaged hands, then flexed them hesitantly. "I'll show you." He gently pulled out the marbles from one of his pockets and threw them into the air, ignoring the pain that it caused his aching hands as he juggled them through the air.
Quatre watched in wide eyed wonder as the crystal spheres began to glow and change colours, little images beginning to appear in each. For the first time he seemed at a loss for words.
He concentrated and suddenly little images of the blond haired boy began to appear in each orb.
"Wow Trowa! That's amazing! Are you a magician? Or a wizard? That would be so cool! You have to show me how to do that! Wait-you said your father didn't do that to your hands... does that mean that these did? But how and- "
"Hn, your stables were going to burn down, I had to stop it."
Turning his eyes slowly from the twirling fire balls, Quatre met his eyes. "You mean...you tried to put out the fire with your HANDS? Trowa, that's crazy! Is that why your father beat you? Becuase of THAT?! But that's awful, how could he do duch a thing and because of that..."
Trowa put his head in his hands and sighed, why had he even told him? Now he was angrily ranting on over something that shouldn't even matter to him? He was acting as if he really cared what happened to him, but that was crazy, no one cared about him and certainly not his beatings, no one would dare call his father an unfair man, no one would...
His thoughts suddenly came to an abrupt stop when he felt Quatre's small arms surrounding him, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Don't worry Trowa, I'll make sure you have the best summer ever with me, and I'll protect you.
Staring up at a sky almost completely covered with clouds, a small smile played across Trowa's face andhe felt a glimmer of hope spread through him as he thought about the long summer days ahead of him.
