A/N: Thank you to GWluverGirl, WingofShinigami, klyukaizer, SPACEheart04
and kawaii-chan for reviewing ^_^. Now a quick recap and then on with the
show!
Quatre dropped the book to the floor. The pages didn't change; they just sat there, mocking him. He looked up at his friends, their eyes burning holes in him. "Quatre?" Trowa asked again.
Quatre bolted from his sitting position and raced to the bathroom. He didn't know until he got there, whether he would vomit or cry.
As it turned out, he ended up doing a little of both. First he hung over the toilet, like some drunken fool and heaved up anything that was left in his stomach. When he was finished he flushed the toilet and as he watched his vomit spiral downward to the land of no return he started sobbing. He clutched at his sides and lowered himself to the ground.
He looked up and was happy to see that in his mad dash to get to the bathroom he had not forgotten to close and lock the door. 'Thank God for habit,' was his last coherent thought before he surrendered himself over to feeling. And oh what a horrible feeling.
The pain was intense. That was something Quatre had learned from the war. Something he had learned the hard way. You can get shot, you can get cut and it will hurt. But if something happens to you that will affect you emotionally it hurts a million times worse. So much worse that you pray for physical pain to take the edge off the internal suffering.
Quatre was a being of feeling now. A creature from the dawn of time that had no logical thoughts. He knew there was pain and he did not want to think about why. He could hardly breathe.
I can barely breathe.
The line jumped from nowhere into Quatres unfocused stream of would be thoughts. "No!" He hissed. "It can't be true! I don't want it to be true!"
The creature of pain was dancing dangerously close to something else. Someone else. Insanity had visited Quatre once and it seemed it cared to drop in again. And Quatre would allow it.
Insanity brought with it a relief, a balm for the pain. It whisked it away. Carried it to the nether regions of space and burned it. Let the pain feel pain, we have no need for you here! But with the relief came two other things. The thoughts. The horrible thoughts he didn't ever want to think again. But more importantly came the wanting. The sinister wanting.
The wanting was pain in itself. It scorched Quatre from the inside and it summed up his thoughts into one singular purpose.
Get blood.
Blood. He had to have it. Had to taste it. But where? Then he smiled. He knew where.
He hunched over in a gross replay of what had occurred to him only moments before. But instead of tears of water, there would be tears of blood.
He scratched at his temples. Then he struck gold as it were. Blood trickled from eight cuts. It dribbled onto his fingers and stained the white bathroom carpet.
The bleeding was quick by soldier standards but it was enough to make the demons of insanity in Quatre happy. He rolled in the blood on the floor staining his golden hair.
Then he looked to his bloody fingers and delightedly started sucking on them. Delicious. Delicious? Halfway through his grotesque meal Quatre found himself. He sat up abruptly and quickly analyzed the situation.
He'd lost his mind apparently. There was pain at his temples at blood on his fingers. He didn't want to think about what he'd been doing. He had too much to think about already.
First priority, take care of his appearance. He examined himself in the bathroom mirror. What he saw almost made him vomit again. His mouth had blood smeared all around it and his temples were a mess of blood. His hair was tinted with the blood he'd drawn and his fingers felt disgustingly sticky.
He ran his fingers under the sink, unable to watch as his blood swirled into the drain. He grabbed a washcloth near the sink (the Winner bathrooms were always well stocked) and dabbed a bit of soap on it. He gently cleaned his scratches then attempted to wash the blood out of his hair. If you didn't look very hard he could pass for normal.
He looked down at the sink, knowing he couldn't deal with a large group of people right now. He defiantly wouldn't be going to the auction, or sifting through the rest of his father's belongings. Just thinking about it sent a surge of emotion to the surface, but Quatre stifled them. Not now. Not yet.
Now it was time to take care of his friends. He'd have to get them to tell the auctioneers that he was sick or something. Someone else would have to be the master of ceremonies. This wasn't going to do wonders for his reputation, even though it was a good one. Missing out on your own auction said something about you as a person. It said you didn't care. And Quatre didn't. All he knew was that he needed to be alone.
Quatre took a deep breath and exited the bathroom to face his friends.
When Quatre had rushed from the group Trowa had reached for the open diary and had hesitantly read the entry. "What is it Trowa?" Duo had asked. "What's up with Quatre?"
"Well," Trowa started, not quite sure it was his place to do say this. "It says here that Quatre had a mother."
WuFei scrunched up his features. "And this means?"
Trowa seemed surprised. "You mean Quatre never told all of you?"
"Told us what?" Duo asked.
"Quatre always thought he was a test tube baby. When he was younger it was a great source of resentment for him. He thought his life wasn't worth as much because his father could just create children at will, with no complications or thought involved. Didn't you ever wonder why Quatre has twenty or so sisters?"
"Quatre has twenty sisters?" WuFei asked, stunned.
"Some friends we are!" Duo proclaimed.
"The past has not been friendly to everyone Duo. Especially soldiers. We've respected each others boundaries, that is a part of friendship in itself," Heero said firmly.
"Trowa asked," Duo mumbled.
"I didn't.he just sort of told me."
"Okay, so Quatre has a mother. What's the problem with that?" WuFei asked.
"I think I can guess," Zechs said.
"What?"
"His mother must have died in childbed."
Duo, WuFei and Heero looked to Trowa for confirmation. Trowa nodded stoutly. "His family has had a long line of birthing difficulties, hence the whole test tube thing. Only two of his sisters tried to have children the natural way and both of them died."
"Damn," Duo whispered.
"We can now assume that Quatre isn't going to be feeling well for a while," Heero added.
"And rightly so," Zechs said. "This is obviously painful for him."
"What can we do for him?" Duo asked.
"For tonight," WuFei said. "I think we should leave him alone. We'll have someone host his auction and supply an excuse to his absence."
"Do you think it's wise to leave him alone?" Heero asked. "The last time he was left to stew in his emotions he went on a killing spree with the Zero System."
"He won't this time," Trowa said softly.
"And how do you know that for certain?" Heero asked.
"I don't.I just trust him, that's all."
Heero analyzed Trowa for a moment than nodded an affirmative. Just then Quatre walked in. Everyone's sharp eyes picked up on the cuts on Quatre's forehead but no one said a thing.
"I can't go to the auction, could you-"
"Hey Q-Man we'll take care of it. We'll tell 'em you're sick as hell and I'll M. C. Is that okay?" Duo asked.
"S-sure," Quatre mumbled.
"All right then guys lets move out and uh, should we take the books?" Duo asked Quatre.
Quatre couldn't bring himself to look at the books. "Yes," he croaked.
Duo nodded and picked what had been put in the 'take' pile. He and the others headed towards the door. Trowa paused at the door and gave Quatre what seemed to be a comforting smile. Normally Quatre would have returned the gesture, but now he barely recognized it.
Quatre stood motionless, staring out at the artificial sunlight pouring through the window. His father would often tell young Quatre about the difference between real and fake sunlight. His father. How could he have done this to Quatre? Why? Didn't he understand that the thought of being a test tube baby was hard for Quatre? That it nearly destroyed his decency?
Quatre shook his head. He couldn't think about this now. He'd had enough of the emotional roller coaster bit today. Quatre trudged towards the door, not looking back and willing himself not to think. He hoped his friends had left already so he could go to his room without interruption. Go to his room and sleep.
Luck was on Quatres side for that matter today. After quickly briefing Relena on Quatres problem, everyone had hurried outside to leave for the auction. His mansion, except for his servants, was void of people. And for the moment he liked it that way.
Quatre's bed had never seemed so welcoming. He didn't even bother changing his clothes. He simply crawled under the covers, wrapped the blankets tightly around him and curled into the fetal position.
Meanwhile, the auction was going on without a hitch. Everyone accepted the excuse that Quatre was ill, some were even thinking of sending 'Get Well' cards. Everyone was so accepting of the excuse because Duo was such an energetic master of ceremonies. He had everyone laughing madly and those who had been dragged there by their spouses were glad they had come.
By the end of the night, the children's hospital fund had an astounding amount of money. Quatre would have been pleased, if he'd been in the right mind to think of such things.
At the end of the night all of his friends had gathered around to take about him and his situation. "I think one of us should visit him tomorrow," Duo said.
Heero nodded. "I agree."
"Alright, who's going?" Duo asked.
"I think it should be Trowa," Heero said.
"What?" Trowa practically blanched.
"Oh yes, defiantly Trowa," Relena concurred.
"Why? I think Duo should go," Trowa said.
Duo scrunched him his eyebrows at Relena and Heero as if he was of the same opinion as Trowa. Then he gave a quick glance to Trowa, analyzing the situation. Then he got it. "No man. You're first. You're the closest to Quatre."
Trowa narrowed his eyes at Relena, Heero and Quatre. "I'll go," he agreed.
"Good! Hilde would have killed me if I skipped out on work two days in a row anyway!"
"Speaking of which I have to get back to the circus. We're perfecting a new routine for the Christmas shows," Trowa headed to the exit. "Good night," he said simply in his parting.
"Okay, what was that all about?" WuFei asked when Trowa definatly gone.
Heero sighed and looked to Zechs. "Do you get it?"
Zechs paused for a moment, thinking. A strange look passed over his face and then he said: "I think so."
"What?" WuFei asked. "What is it?"
"Trowa's in love," Heero said simply.
"Oh. Is that all? I thought it was something serious," WuFei scoffed.
"Love is serious," Relena said.
WuFei did not argue the point, especially with Heero around. "Okay, so he's in love. Big deal. It's not our business."
"I would say it is slightly our business," Heero said.
"How so?"
"Well, Trowa's in love with Quatre."
WuFei's eyes grew large at the declaration. "Trowa.and Quatre?"
"Seems like it," Duo said.
"And nobody is bothered by this?"
Relena said "No" at the same time Duo and Zechs said "Kinda."
"What do you mean 'kinda?'" Relena asked Duo and Zechs.
"Well.you know they're both men and-" Duo started.
"It's skeevy, that's the best way I can put it," Zechs said.
Relena crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you dare say anything like that in front of them," she warned.
"We won't," Zechs said. "We were just stating our opinion."
"Good," Relena nodded. "We better get home Heero." In less than a second Heero was next to her helping her up. "Yeah, I guess it's time to for everybody to hit the road," Duo said as everyone got to their feet.
"Somebody should check in with Trowa tomorrow evening," WuFei suggested.
"Yes, I'll do. I'll be over in the area of Trowa's circus tomorrow night. I have my last meeting before my maternity leave, it's perfect," Relena said.
"Okay, if anything really bad happened give me a ring," Duo said.
"Alright," Relena agreed and the friends separated.
The colonies mechanically produced dawn came shining the next morning as Quatre peeked out from under the covers. He hadn't slept last night as much as he had stared into space. "Fuck," he croaked through his dry mouth and covered himself back up with the blankets.
In two hours one of his servants knocked on the fine oak door. The servant's usual orders were to serve their master breakfast in bed if he wasn't up by a certain time. "Master Quatre?" The servant asked. No answer. If there was no answer that meant he was asleep and it was her job to wake him up and give him breakfast.
She opened the door with one hand and entered the masters' quarters. "Sir," she said. "It's time to wake up." She approached the master's bed and laid the breakfast down on his vacant night table. "Sir?"
Quatre jolted up from the brief bought of sleep that had overcome him in the last half hour. He looked around and saw the servant. "Is-is everything okay sir?"
"Cancel any appointments I have for the next couple of days. Tell them I'm sick," he said strictly. The servant had never seen her master like this. He was usually so kind.
"O-okay. Be sure to drink your juice," she said as she bowed out of the room. Quatre looked over at his breakfast tray. There was a cup of tea, a glass of orange juice, scrambled eggs and toast. Quatre grabbed the orange juice and downed it quickly. His physical self perked up with relief.
Quatre did not even attempt to drink the tea. His father had loved tea. Quatre ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand.why does this hurt so much? It shouldn't hurt so much." It felt comforting to hear his own voice.
"Why did she have to die because of me?" He asked softly. He had a mother. The thought struck him strangely. All this time, he'd had a mother. All the trouble he'd caused when he was a kid because he'd resented the fact that he was just created on whim. The honor the Magnac Corps had taught him. All for nothing. Just because his father decided not to tell him. What in the name of God had he done to deserve this?
Quatre leaned back and stared at his ceiling, a million and one thoughts running through his head. He would stay in this position until Trowa showed up two hours later.
Trowa had walked to the Winner mansion from the circus, which was only about five city blocks away. He eyed the mansion apprehensively. He wasn't quite sure what he would find inside. Maybe he should have brought something? Trowa shook off the feeling that had been haunting him lately. He wasn't good with feelings so analyzing it was out of the question.
Trowa rang the mansion's doorbell. Quatre didn't have any security outside. He'd had no problem going back to the "people are okay" mentality after the war. Trowa had never been in that state of mind so he always carried a gun, like Heero.
A finely dressed butler answered the door. "Master Barton," the man bowed. By now all the servants knew Quatre's friends and had been told to let them in unless specifically warned otherwise, which had yet to happen. Trowa walked in. "Where is Quatre?" he asked.
"His room. I am sorry to say the master is not feeling well at the moment. Would you like to come back another time?"
"No, it's okay. I'll just sort of.surprise him." Surprise him? Where had that come from?
"Very well," the man bowed again and let Trowa pass. Trowa let his feet carry him to Quatre's room. He'd been there so many times before. He left a brief rap on the door to let Quatre know he was there and then he stepped in. "Quatre?"
What met Trowa's eyes stirred up a painful range of emotion he usually suppressed. Quatre sat in a messy tangle of sheets, his appearance disheveled and the usually bright smile absent from his face. The smell of cold eggs assaulted Trowa's nose as he approached the bed. "Quatre?" he asked again.
Quatre turned his head to face Trowa, his eyes blank. The usual comfort that Trowa felt with his best friend vanished in an instant. "I came to check on you Quatre. Is everything alright?"
Quatre gave a hoarse laugh that Trowa assessed in an instant. He hadn't gone over the boundary into insanity yet he decided. "Alright?" Quatre gave a crooked smile. "There's rather nothing to worry about. Ra-ther."
Trowa swallowed. "A-are you sure?"
"Ra-ther."
Trowa gave a soft smile and reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder. Quatre shied away from his touch and hissed, "Get away."
"I-I'm sorry Quatre. I just." Quatre usually welcomed any form of affection from Trowa. The rejection landed hard on Trowa and a few stray emotions floated to the surface. "Didn't you hear me?" Quatre pressed.
Trowa backed away, suddenly afraid. "I got away," Trowa whispered.
"I'm changing it. I want you to get out. I'm tired of this false sympathy. Get out and don't ever come back. And tell those other fucks to stay away too. I don't need any of you!"
Trowa was so surprised his jaw dropped. "Quatre," he said, smiling. "I-We want to help you. We love you," he said offering his hand.
Quatre angrily batted Trowa's hand away. "I don't care! I hate all of you! Every last one of you! Especially you."
Trowa took a deep breath. 'I will not let this hurt me,' he thought. 'He doesn't know what he's saying.' "Quatre you have to let me help you," he persisted.
Quatre violently moved towards his nightstand, wrenched open the drawer and pulled out a gun. "Get out," he said taking aim.
Trowa couldn't save him with his life this time. He banked on it last time that Quatre would come to what was left of his senses but he wasn't so sure this time. And he couldn't find the words to bring Quatre around. Quatre's acidic stare was burning a deep hole in Trowa's soul. He knew he had to leave. With one sad smile he gracefully left the room and bumped into a servant.
He didn't bother apologizing, he just rushed passed her. The servant entered Quatre's room with his lunch, a pleasant smile on her face. "GET OUT!" Quatre screeched. "DON'T EVER COME IN HERE AGAIN!"
The servants smile vanished and she left the room. She ran back to the kitchen spilling the painful tears Trowa wished he could relieve himself of.
~*~
Woo! Quatre's insane! Don't worry; I won't keep him like that for much longer. Well, tell me what you think!
Quatre dropped the book to the floor. The pages didn't change; they just sat there, mocking him. He looked up at his friends, their eyes burning holes in him. "Quatre?" Trowa asked again.
Quatre bolted from his sitting position and raced to the bathroom. He didn't know until he got there, whether he would vomit or cry.
As it turned out, he ended up doing a little of both. First he hung over the toilet, like some drunken fool and heaved up anything that was left in his stomach. When he was finished he flushed the toilet and as he watched his vomit spiral downward to the land of no return he started sobbing. He clutched at his sides and lowered himself to the ground.
He looked up and was happy to see that in his mad dash to get to the bathroom he had not forgotten to close and lock the door. 'Thank God for habit,' was his last coherent thought before he surrendered himself over to feeling. And oh what a horrible feeling.
The pain was intense. That was something Quatre had learned from the war. Something he had learned the hard way. You can get shot, you can get cut and it will hurt. But if something happens to you that will affect you emotionally it hurts a million times worse. So much worse that you pray for physical pain to take the edge off the internal suffering.
Quatre was a being of feeling now. A creature from the dawn of time that had no logical thoughts. He knew there was pain and he did not want to think about why. He could hardly breathe.
I can barely breathe.
The line jumped from nowhere into Quatres unfocused stream of would be thoughts. "No!" He hissed. "It can't be true! I don't want it to be true!"
The creature of pain was dancing dangerously close to something else. Someone else. Insanity had visited Quatre once and it seemed it cared to drop in again. And Quatre would allow it.
Insanity brought with it a relief, a balm for the pain. It whisked it away. Carried it to the nether regions of space and burned it. Let the pain feel pain, we have no need for you here! But with the relief came two other things. The thoughts. The horrible thoughts he didn't ever want to think again. But more importantly came the wanting. The sinister wanting.
The wanting was pain in itself. It scorched Quatre from the inside and it summed up his thoughts into one singular purpose.
Get blood.
Blood. He had to have it. Had to taste it. But where? Then he smiled. He knew where.
He hunched over in a gross replay of what had occurred to him only moments before. But instead of tears of water, there would be tears of blood.
He scratched at his temples. Then he struck gold as it were. Blood trickled from eight cuts. It dribbled onto his fingers and stained the white bathroom carpet.
The bleeding was quick by soldier standards but it was enough to make the demons of insanity in Quatre happy. He rolled in the blood on the floor staining his golden hair.
Then he looked to his bloody fingers and delightedly started sucking on them. Delicious. Delicious? Halfway through his grotesque meal Quatre found himself. He sat up abruptly and quickly analyzed the situation.
He'd lost his mind apparently. There was pain at his temples at blood on his fingers. He didn't want to think about what he'd been doing. He had too much to think about already.
First priority, take care of his appearance. He examined himself in the bathroom mirror. What he saw almost made him vomit again. His mouth had blood smeared all around it and his temples were a mess of blood. His hair was tinted with the blood he'd drawn and his fingers felt disgustingly sticky.
He ran his fingers under the sink, unable to watch as his blood swirled into the drain. He grabbed a washcloth near the sink (the Winner bathrooms were always well stocked) and dabbed a bit of soap on it. He gently cleaned his scratches then attempted to wash the blood out of his hair. If you didn't look very hard he could pass for normal.
He looked down at the sink, knowing he couldn't deal with a large group of people right now. He defiantly wouldn't be going to the auction, or sifting through the rest of his father's belongings. Just thinking about it sent a surge of emotion to the surface, but Quatre stifled them. Not now. Not yet.
Now it was time to take care of his friends. He'd have to get them to tell the auctioneers that he was sick or something. Someone else would have to be the master of ceremonies. This wasn't going to do wonders for his reputation, even though it was a good one. Missing out on your own auction said something about you as a person. It said you didn't care. And Quatre didn't. All he knew was that he needed to be alone.
Quatre took a deep breath and exited the bathroom to face his friends.
When Quatre had rushed from the group Trowa had reached for the open diary and had hesitantly read the entry. "What is it Trowa?" Duo had asked. "What's up with Quatre?"
"Well," Trowa started, not quite sure it was his place to do say this. "It says here that Quatre had a mother."
WuFei scrunched up his features. "And this means?"
Trowa seemed surprised. "You mean Quatre never told all of you?"
"Told us what?" Duo asked.
"Quatre always thought he was a test tube baby. When he was younger it was a great source of resentment for him. He thought his life wasn't worth as much because his father could just create children at will, with no complications or thought involved. Didn't you ever wonder why Quatre has twenty or so sisters?"
"Quatre has twenty sisters?" WuFei asked, stunned.
"Some friends we are!" Duo proclaimed.
"The past has not been friendly to everyone Duo. Especially soldiers. We've respected each others boundaries, that is a part of friendship in itself," Heero said firmly.
"Trowa asked," Duo mumbled.
"I didn't.he just sort of told me."
"Okay, so Quatre has a mother. What's the problem with that?" WuFei asked.
"I think I can guess," Zechs said.
"What?"
"His mother must have died in childbed."
Duo, WuFei and Heero looked to Trowa for confirmation. Trowa nodded stoutly. "His family has had a long line of birthing difficulties, hence the whole test tube thing. Only two of his sisters tried to have children the natural way and both of them died."
"Damn," Duo whispered.
"We can now assume that Quatre isn't going to be feeling well for a while," Heero added.
"And rightly so," Zechs said. "This is obviously painful for him."
"What can we do for him?" Duo asked.
"For tonight," WuFei said. "I think we should leave him alone. We'll have someone host his auction and supply an excuse to his absence."
"Do you think it's wise to leave him alone?" Heero asked. "The last time he was left to stew in his emotions he went on a killing spree with the Zero System."
"He won't this time," Trowa said softly.
"And how do you know that for certain?" Heero asked.
"I don't.I just trust him, that's all."
Heero analyzed Trowa for a moment than nodded an affirmative. Just then Quatre walked in. Everyone's sharp eyes picked up on the cuts on Quatre's forehead but no one said a thing.
"I can't go to the auction, could you-"
"Hey Q-Man we'll take care of it. We'll tell 'em you're sick as hell and I'll M. C. Is that okay?" Duo asked.
"S-sure," Quatre mumbled.
"All right then guys lets move out and uh, should we take the books?" Duo asked Quatre.
Quatre couldn't bring himself to look at the books. "Yes," he croaked.
Duo nodded and picked what had been put in the 'take' pile. He and the others headed towards the door. Trowa paused at the door and gave Quatre what seemed to be a comforting smile. Normally Quatre would have returned the gesture, but now he barely recognized it.
Quatre stood motionless, staring out at the artificial sunlight pouring through the window. His father would often tell young Quatre about the difference between real and fake sunlight. His father. How could he have done this to Quatre? Why? Didn't he understand that the thought of being a test tube baby was hard for Quatre? That it nearly destroyed his decency?
Quatre shook his head. He couldn't think about this now. He'd had enough of the emotional roller coaster bit today. Quatre trudged towards the door, not looking back and willing himself not to think. He hoped his friends had left already so he could go to his room without interruption. Go to his room and sleep.
Luck was on Quatres side for that matter today. After quickly briefing Relena on Quatres problem, everyone had hurried outside to leave for the auction. His mansion, except for his servants, was void of people. And for the moment he liked it that way.
Quatre's bed had never seemed so welcoming. He didn't even bother changing his clothes. He simply crawled under the covers, wrapped the blankets tightly around him and curled into the fetal position.
Meanwhile, the auction was going on without a hitch. Everyone accepted the excuse that Quatre was ill, some were even thinking of sending 'Get Well' cards. Everyone was so accepting of the excuse because Duo was such an energetic master of ceremonies. He had everyone laughing madly and those who had been dragged there by their spouses were glad they had come.
By the end of the night, the children's hospital fund had an astounding amount of money. Quatre would have been pleased, if he'd been in the right mind to think of such things.
At the end of the night all of his friends had gathered around to take about him and his situation. "I think one of us should visit him tomorrow," Duo said.
Heero nodded. "I agree."
"Alright, who's going?" Duo asked.
"I think it should be Trowa," Heero said.
"What?" Trowa practically blanched.
"Oh yes, defiantly Trowa," Relena concurred.
"Why? I think Duo should go," Trowa said.
Duo scrunched him his eyebrows at Relena and Heero as if he was of the same opinion as Trowa. Then he gave a quick glance to Trowa, analyzing the situation. Then he got it. "No man. You're first. You're the closest to Quatre."
Trowa narrowed his eyes at Relena, Heero and Quatre. "I'll go," he agreed.
"Good! Hilde would have killed me if I skipped out on work two days in a row anyway!"
"Speaking of which I have to get back to the circus. We're perfecting a new routine for the Christmas shows," Trowa headed to the exit. "Good night," he said simply in his parting.
"Okay, what was that all about?" WuFei asked when Trowa definatly gone.
Heero sighed and looked to Zechs. "Do you get it?"
Zechs paused for a moment, thinking. A strange look passed over his face and then he said: "I think so."
"What?" WuFei asked. "What is it?"
"Trowa's in love," Heero said simply.
"Oh. Is that all? I thought it was something serious," WuFei scoffed.
"Love is serious," Relena said.
WuFei did not argue the point, especially with Heero around. "Okay, so he's in love. Big deal. It's not our business."
"I would say it is slightly our business," Heero said.
"How so?"
"Well, Trowa's in love with Quatre."
WuFei's eyes grew large at the declaration. "Trowa.and Quatre?"
"Seems like it," Duo said.
"And nobody is bothered by this?"
Relena said "No" at the same time Duo and Zechs said "Kinda."
"What do you mean 'kinda?'" Relena asked Duo and Zechs.
"Well.you know they're both men and-" Duo started.
"It's skeevy, that's the best way I can put it," Zechs said.
Relena crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you dare say anything like that in front of them," she warned.
"We won't," Zechs said. "We were just stating our opinion."
"Good," Relena nodded. "We better get home Heero." In less than a second Heero was next to her helping her up. "Yeah, I guess it's time to for everybody to hit the road," Duo said as everyone got to their feet.
"Somebody should check in with Trowa tomorrow evening," WuFei suggested.
"Yes, I'll do. I'll be over in the area of Trowa's circus tomorrow night. I have my last meeting before my maternity leave, it's perfect," Relena said.
"Okay, if anything really bad happened give me a ring," Duo said.
"Alright," Relena agreed and the friends separated.
The colonies mechanically produced dawn came shining the next morning as Quatre peeked out from under the covers. He hadn't slept last night as much as he had stared into space. "Fuck," he croaked through his dry mouth and covered himself back up with the blankets.
In two hours one of his servants knocked on the fine oak door. The servant's usual orders were to serve their master breakfast in bed if he wasn't up by a certain time. "Master Quatre?" The servant asked. No answer. If there was no answer that meant he was asleep and it was her job to wake him up and give him breakfast.
She opened the door with one hand and entered the masters' quarters. "Sir," she said. "It's time to wake up." She approached the master's bed and laid the breakfast down on his vacant night table. "Sir?"
Quatre jolted up from the brief bought of sleep that had overcome him in the last half hour. He looked around and saw the servant. "Is-is everything okay sir?"
"Cancel any appointments I have for the next couple of days. Tell them I'm sick," he said strictly. The servant had never seen her master like this. He was usually so kind.
"O-okay. Be sure to drink your juice," she said as she bowed out of the room. Quatre looked over at his breakfast tray. There was a cup of tea, a glass of orange juice, scrambled eggs and toast. Quatre grabbed the orange juice and downed it quickly. His physical self perked up with relief.
Quatre did not even attempt to drink the tea. His father had loved tea. Quatre ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand.why does this hurt so much? It shouldn't hurt so much." It felt comforting to hear his own voice.
"Why did she have to die because of me?" He asked softly. He had a mother. The thought struck him strangely. All this time, he'd had a mother. All the trouble he'd caused when he was a kid because he'd resented the fact that he was just created on whim. The honor the Magnac Corps had taught him. All for nothing. Just because his father decided not to tell him. What in the name of God had he done to deserve this?
Quatre leaned back and stared at his ceiling, a million and one thoughts running through his head. He would stay in this position until Trowa showed up two hours later.
Trowa had walked to the Winner mansion from the circus, which was only about five city blocks away. He eyed the mansion apprehensively. He wasn't quite sure what he would find inside. Maybe he should have brought something? Trowa shook off the feeling that had been haunting him lately. He wasn't good with feelings so analyzing it was out of the question.
Trowa rang the mansion's doorbell. Quatre didn't have any security outside. He'd had no problem going back to the "people are okay" mentality after the war. Trowa had never been in that state of mind so he always carried a gun, like Heero.
A finely dressed butler answered the door. "Master Barton," the man bowed. By now all the servants knew Quatre's friends and had been told to let them in unless specifically warned otherwise, which had yet to happen. Trowa walked in. "Where is Quatre?" he asked.
"His room. I am sorry to say the master is not feeling well at the moment. Would you like to come back another time?"
"No, it's okay. I'll just sort of.surprise him." Surprise him? Where had that come from?
"Very well," the man bowed again and let Trowa pass. Trowa let his feet carry him to Quatre's room. He'd been there so many times before. He left a brief rap on the door to let Quatre know he was there and then he stepped in. "Quatre?"
What met Trowa's eyes stirred up a painful range of emotion he usually suppressed. Quatre sat in a messy tangle of sheets, his appearance disheveled and the usually bright smile absent from his face. The smell of cold eggs assaulted Trowa's nose as he approached the bed. "Quatre?" he asked again.
Quatre turned his head to face Trowa, his eyes blank. The usual comfort that Trowa felt with his best friend vanished in an instant. "I came to check on you Quatre. Is everything alright?"
Quatre gave a hoarse laugh that Trowa assessed in an instant. He hadn't gone over the boundary into insanity yet he decided. "Alright?" Quatre gave a crooked smile. "There's rather nothing to worry about. Ra-ther."
Trowa swallowed. "A-are you sure?"
"Ra-ther."
Trowa gave a soft smile and reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder. Quatre shied away from his touch and hissed, "Get away."
"I-I'm sorry Quatre. I just." Quatre usually welcomed any form of affection from Trowa. The rejection landed hard on Trowa and a few stray emotions floated to the surface. "Didn't you hear me?" Quatre pressed.
Trowa backed away, suddenly afraid. "I got away," Trowa whispered.
"I'm changing it. I want you to get out. I'm tired of this false sympathy. Get out and don't ever come back. And tell those other fucks to stay away too. I don't need any of you!"
Trowa was so surprised his jaw dropped. "Quatre," he said, smiling. "I-We want to help you. We love you," he said offering his hand.
Quatre angrily batted Trowa's hand away. "I don't care! I hate all of you! Every last one of you! Especially you."
Trowa took a deep breath. 'I will not let this hurt me,' he thought. 'He doesn't know what he's saying.' "Quatre you have to let me help you," he persisted.
Quatre violently moved towards his nightstand, wrenched open the drawer and pulled out a gun. "Get out," he said taking aim.
Trowa couldn't save him with his life this time. He banked on it last time that Quatre would come to what was left of his senses but he wasn't so sure this time. And he couldn't find the words to bring Quatre around. Quatre's acidic stare was burning a deep hole in Trowa's soul. He knew he had to leave. With one sad smile he gracefully left the room and bumped into a servant.
He didn't bother apologizing, he just rushed passed her. The servant entered Quatre's room with his lunch, a pleasant smile on her face. "GET OUT!" Quatre screeched. "DON'T EVER COME IN HERE AGAIN!"
The servants smile vanished and she left the room. She ran back to the kitchen spilling the painful tears Trowa wished he could relieve himself of.
~*~
Woo! Quatre's insane! Don't worry; I won't keep him like that for much longer. Well, tell me what you think!
