Notes and disclaimer in Prologue
Okay, I lied in the last author note. I said there was going to be a lemon in this next chapter, but guess what, there ain't gonna be. So, I'm sorry to have gotten your hopes up, but I wish that wouldn't deter you from reading on. Things really start picking up from here on out, so keep reading and enjoy! And don't worry, there are definitely lemons ahead. ^_^
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Sure Thing Chapter FiveQuatre awoke one morning knowing exactly what was going to happen that day. It was the day he was finally going to put The Plan into action. The Plan had been something he'd worked on for what felt like ages, perfecting it until there would be no room to back out of it once it was started. He smiled to himself. Not that he wanted to back out of it. In fact, he had been looking forward to this day for quite some time. Trowa stirred beside him, opening green eyes slowly and smiling up at his love.
"Good morning." Quatre said, leaning down for their usual greeting kiss.
"'Morning." Trowa mumbled and started pulling himself out of bed. "I have to go to market today. Jacob promised to pay twice our original asking price for the new crop. I just have to deliver it and settle things."
I know. Quatre wanted to cry out gleefully. In fact, he'd actually spoken to Jacob earlier in the week about The Plan. Jacob was an old friend who, when he'd found out from Iria of Quatre's "coming out" hadn't batted an eye, and simply asked if Quatre predicted a good rainfall for the next autumn. In that way, Quatre knew he could trust his friend to help out, even pay extra for a crop, if it was just to get Trowa out of the house for an entire day. "That's great to hear, Tro." Was all he said instead, watching the tall man pull on his clothes. The two men slept almost completely naked and it took all of Quatre's will not to attack Trowa at night when he felt that glorious skin and body surrounding him. Hopefully that'll change tonight. Quatre thought to himself, smirking when Trowa's back was turned.
Sighing at the thought of having to leave the bed, Quatre hauled himself out of it, wincing as his bare feet landed on the still cold hardwood floor. "I need slippers." He grumbled to himself, hopping slightly from one foot to another, trying to avoid the cold. Trowa smiled as Quatre stumbled about doing his best to put on clothes without making contact with the floor. If there was one thing his fair lover hated it was the cold. Anything beneath seventy degrees was considered freezing, and right now, Trowa guessed the air temperature to be around fifty degrees, a veritable ice age in Quatre's mind.
The two men ate breakfast in a customary silence, no words really needed, especially at such an early hour. Whatever really needed to be said would be. After the meal, Trowa hitched Betsy up to the cart, and Quatre helped him to heave the bales full of corn onto it. When Trowa climbed into the driver's seat, Quatre found the sudden urge to kiss him, which he did by scrambling ungracefully up to sit by him and assaulting his lips before he could protest. Which Trowa did not have in mind to do anyway. When they broke the kiss, Trowa let out a huge breath of air. "That was really something, Quat."
"I just thought you hadn't been properly kissed for awhile. Not since…"
"Last night?" Trowa supplied with a small smirk on his face.
Quatre shrugged. "It just seemed like due time for another one. Take care today, will you?"
"I always do." Trowa smiled fully cupping the blonde's face in his hands and staring into the endless blue eyes, "There's something precious at home that can't keep me away for long, no matter what gets in the way." Quatre didn't know how to respond, so he simply leaned up for another soul searing kiss, wishing to just dwell in that forever. Part of him wished to plead to Trowa not to go today. But he knew The Plan wouldn't work without Trowa leaving for a little bit of time. Yet one day without him is longer than a lifetime.
Quatre finally managed to pull himself away and climbed off the cart. "I'll see you later."
"Of course." Trowa said smiling. "I love you." He flicked the whip and Betsy pulled the cart down the dusty brown road with Quatre following a little bit of the way in the wake.
"And I love you! Return home safe, Trowa." He couldn't help but call at the retreating cart. Trowa looked over his shoulder at the small figure and waved.
As soon as the cart was out of sight, Quatre ran out into the fields where the flowers were changing. The older summer wildflowers were giving way to the new autumn flowers, bright yellows and purples giving way to more mellow reds and dusty oranges. He grabbed fistfuls of them, using his shirt as a sling in which to carry them, humming happily to himself. Tonight was going to be wonderful. Beyond wonderful. It was going to be perfect.
Hilde came to visit around noon. She was one of the few who knew the truth behind Quatre's wish to remain a bachelor, having found out after Quatre had visited to break off the engagement. It hadn't hurt her feelings, and had in fact caused she and Quatre to become rather close friends. She also had been let in on The Plan, and was determined to help her new friend with it.
"Here's the special bowl I was talking about!" She said in announcement to her arrival. "And the chocolate. You just put it into the bowl and heat it up. Then you can dip anything you want into it, like bread or strawberries or even…"
"I get it! I get it!" Quatre interrupted, knowing exactly by the evil grin on her face what else she was thinking of dipping into that pot. "Thanks, Hilde."
"Anytime. I just hope Trowa appreciates all this trouble you went through to seduce him."
"Oh, he will, don't you worry about that." Quatre mumbled, blushing bright red and causing Hilde to cackle delightedly.
"That's the spirit!" She said enthusiastically, "So what can I do here? Oooh, these are fresh grapes, aren't they? I think I know how you are going to feed these to him!"
"Hilde!" Quatre's blush turned to an almost frightening purple color.
"What?" She asked innocently, "You're the one who came up with this plan, after all. How're you going to go through with it if you can't talk about it?"
"I pity your future husband, whoever the poor sod is," Quatre muttered, "Go and toss those oysters into the boiling water, will you, Hil?"
"You know what oysters are supposed to do, don't you?"
"Yes, Hilde! I do!"
"You have any wine? Red would work best with the oysters."
"I have the wine, the oysters, fresh strawberries, and some champagne that's been saved by the family for years."
"Special occasion stuff, huh?"
"Trust me, Trowa is a special occasion every day. He's worth far more than a bottle of hundred year old grape juice."
"I like your style, Quat. Too bad you aren't straight."
"Hilde…"
"I know, I know. You are happy the way you are, and I'm glad you have Trowa."
"Me too, Hil, me too."
Two hours had passed and Hilde was getting ready to leave. Quatre walked with her outside, thanking her profusely for her help. She merely winked and flashed him a smile. "No need to thank me, Quat. Besides, the look on your face tomorrow will be all the reward I need."
"Hilde!"
"Couldn't resist. Now, you have a good time tonight, and remember what I told you about that fondue."
"Yes, not to turn it on until he pulls up, otherwise it'll…it'll burn." He stumbled slightly on the words, picturing exactly where that chocolate would be in less than a few hours.
"That's right, Quatre. Ha, looks like you've already found your happy place." Hilde gave him a light pat on the arm and turned to walk down the road when they spotted a horse and rider speeding towards them. Startled, they waited until the rider skidded to a halt in front of them.
"Jacob!" Quatre cried, feeling a sudden surge of dread, "What's happened?"
The man on the horse leapt down, his face sweaty and red from the ride. "Quatre, it's Trowa."
"What do you mean?" Quatre felt the twinge of dread turn into a heavy weight on his chest and he clutched at Hilde's arm desperately for support.
"There was a round-up in town. Duke Kushrenada issued a draft and all able-bodied men without family or children are to report immediately to the navy." Jacob gasped out.
"Why? They can't do that to Trowa! He does have a family and he is an employee on the farm. They can't just take him without consulting me first!" Quatre protested, feeling faint.
"I know, and he tried to explain, but, Quatre, he didn't have his papers with him. They took him away with most of the others. I'm so sorry, Quatre."
"There's got to be a way to get him back. Hilde, go upstairs to our room and look under the bed. There should be a small box. That's where his papers are. Jacob, would you mind if I borrowed your horse?" Quatre commanded, hastily grabbing for the reins.
"There's no way you can get him now. The tide has just gone out, with the ship he was conscripted to on it. I got here as fast as I could, Quatre." Jacob said, grabbing his arm to prevent him from climbing onto the horse.
"Quatre, he'll be back soon, I'm sure of it." Hilde said, the trepidation apparent on her face. He stared at her then at Jacob. Without a word he turned and walked into the house, leaving Hilde and Jacob standing uncomfortably in the yard. "Thank you, for getting here so quickly, Jacob. I'll just go and see if I can talk to him." She said, following in the trail of the now miserable blonde. She found him curled up in the bed upstairs, clutching what she could only imagine was Trowa's pillow to his chest, his body shaking in silent sobs. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Quatre, please, don't worry. You can write to Kushrenada and tell him there's been a mistake. Then they'll have to let Trowa go."
Quatre looked up at her, his face covered in the tracks from his tears. "Are you sure that'll work?"
"Positive," She said softly, "And if by some strange coincidence it doesn't, you can go and see the stuffy duke face to face and make him return your Trowa to you."
He sniffled, a small smile forming on his face. "Alright, that's what I'll do." He said with conviction and scrambled off the bed, to the writing desk, where he sat and started scribbling a letter, Trowa's pillow still clasped tightly to his body. I'll get you back, Trowa, don't worry. And then we can have that fondue together. Quatre thought as he wrote explaining to Duke Treize Kushrenada the situation as best he could.
~ Two Weeks Later ~
"Quatre! There's a postman here!" Hilde's call sent Quatre running from the barn to the front of the house. He'd been waiting for so long to receive word of any kind from the Duke. He'd almost been ready to storm up to the castle in which Kushrenada lived with the royal family to claim his rights. Every night and day without Trowa there beside him was like some terrible water torture, where one drop after one drop of water was dripped onto the middle of the victim's forehead until the sufferer went insane. Quatre felt so close to reaching this insanity, knowing his love was out there somewhere, and possibly in danger.
Hilde was waiting for him, holding out a single envelope with a red wax crest on it. He grabbed it and rushed into the house and up to his room, whereupon he ripped it open with trembling fingers.
Hilde waited patiently in the kitchen, stirring the stew for their dinner (she hardly ever left Quatre's side, having, thanks to her cousin's permission, set up her own things in Trowa's old bedroom) when a piercing wail sent her running up the stairs to Quatre's room. There she found the blonde bent over double as if experiencing some terrible pain, the letter fallen to the ground. "Quatre? What happened?" She asked desperately, touching his shoulder. He jerked away as if her touch stung and looked up at her. The expression of extreme anguish unhidden in those aquamarine eyes caused her to gasp and step back. He heaved a dry sob and fled the room without a word. Stunned, Hilde stared after him before turning to the letter, which seemed to be the cause of Quatre's pain. She picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, scanning it.
Mr. Winner,
We have just received your letter a day ago. However, we regret to inform you the ship on which Trowa Barton was enlisted was attacked by the pirate ship Tallgeese recently. Only one survivor has been found, a one Jeffrey Lyons, who reported the incident. This token was all that was left of Mr. Barton, found among his personal possessions that had not been ransacked by the pirates.
You have our deepest sympathy at your loss, Mr. Winner, though you will be pleased to know Mr. Barton died fighting bravely for the crown and his country. His Majesty could have asked for no more brave a soldier than Trowa Barton.
With deepest apologies,
General Une
Hilde held the letter tightly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She had gotten to know Trowa enough before his conscription to count him as a good friend. She had often teased he and Quatre, delighting in the blushes and half-smiles she drew from the reticent man and his lover. Now he was gone. She searched the envelope, desperately looking for something that would tell her this was all just a mistake, that Trowa really hadn't been killed. But there was nothing. Not even the token of which the letter spoke. Then she thought of what Quatre had grasped tightly in his hand as he ran from the room. The best thing for him right now is to be alone. She thought, the tears now streaming down her face as she realized what this might do to her friend. He will never be the same.
Quatre sat hunched under the tree where he'd first kissed Trowa, biting back the howls that threatened to rip from him. He felt a pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, as if someone had rammed a metal rod into his middle and wrenched it upwards, tearing through his lungs and heart. His Trowa, his love, most definitely his better half had left him forever now, and he was remembering the feeling of complete desolation he'd lived with before meeting the tall man.
Trowa…why? Why did this have to happen to you? This was all my fault! I should never have made that plan. You would still be alive if it weren't for my arrogant impatience. I probably only had to wait a few days more before anything happened. A few days. And now, I'll never know what it would be like to be surrounded by you completely. Quatre heaved, feeling nauseous and short of breath at the same moment. He looked down at the object in his hand, a small round disk, carved with an intricate design and attached to leather strap. This is a sure sign that he is dead. Trowa would never part with this willingly.
~ Flashback ~
Quatre rested his head on Trowa's chest, snuggling close to him under the covers in order to get warm in the cool night air. He reached up a hand and placed it on the simple necklace Trowa always wore. The green stone glowed gently in the flickering candlelight, matching perfectly his lover's deep green eyes. "Where'd you get this, Trowa?" He asked sleepily.
Trowa slipped his arm around the smaller man's waist, pulling him even closer. "My mother gave it to me, just before I left home. It's made from a stone only found in the far East and it's been in the family for generations."
"What do the markings mean?"
Trowa thought for a moment. "They say there's no really simple direct translation for them. We don't have a word for them in our language. I suppose the easiest way to explain them is simply 'joy luck.'"(1)
"Joy luck?"
"Yes, Little One," Trowa said, chuckling slightly, "It means may I be lucky and happy all of my life. Have the luck during my travels and find the joy of my life sometime during my years on this earth. And so far I have." Trowa leant down and kissed him soundly, ending the conversation efficiently.
~ End Flashback ~
Quatre looked at the stone long and hard. Well, even if the markings didn't bring him joy or luck but for a short period of time, the necklace itself meant more to him than the words ever could. It was the last thing of Trowa's he had with him, and he wasn't going to let it out of his sight. Ever. He tied it around his own neck, feeling the cool weight settle against his collarbone, a constant reminder of the person he loved more than life itself. Always, Trowa. I'll always be your Little One. No one else could ever claim my heart as you have. To the stars that started appearing in the sky above, twinkling mockingly at the forlorn figure down below, he murmured, "I will never love again."(2)
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(1) This is taken from Amy Tan's book The Joy Luck Club. If you haven't read it yet, I suggest you do. It's an excellent work of literature, in my humble opinion.
(2) Okay, okay, I didn't mean to, but I directly quoted from The Princess Bride. I just want to remind you all again, that that movie is not mine, and I wish to give all the credit for the idea behind this "fusion" to those whom the movie does belong to.
A/N: Sorry about the lack of lemon, folks, as well as the angsty moments we went through. Hopefully, things will start lightening up in a bit, once certain other characters make their appearance. **Ahem** Not like I'm going to tell you who, you'll just have to wait. Mwahahaha! Hope you're enjoying. You can always review to let me know how much you are enjoying this…or how little…either way, let me know! ^_^