Hummm...I have been notified of a nice big honkin' truckload of spelling and grammatical errors in past chapters. *puts feet up on desk* I'll get around to them eventually. =P I also get a lot of people saying "Please do this" or "please don't do that" and I gotta hug you all and say trust Mitsugi! She knows what she's doing! =^_^= I won't throw anything into the story for frivolous reasons, especially relationships. If people get together (and there's still no telling who will be with who) it'll have a good reason behind it. But I'm lovin' all this grrrreat feedback! *blows kisses*
Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P
Suggested Font: Times New Roman~~~~~~~~~~
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Episode Eleven: Spilling Drops of Courage "Bravery and stupidity go hand in hand." ~David Summers July 24th, 1901 Ever since that run-in with the Baroness, and meeting Lady Une in the market, he can't relax. It was bad enough when he thought one of his mad sisters was going to jump out of the bushes at him, but now... Trowa looked despairingly at his ailing friend, wishing he could take away all his anxieties. As Quatre worked on the rose bushes in the front garden, he was constantly looking over his shoulder, tripping over roots, dropping the pruning shears and just generally looking nervous and uncomfortable. It was agonizing to watch. Trowa had only been asked to help scrub down the front steps, but he felt certain he could do much more. After the fourth clumsy slip of the shears followed by Quatre's soft voice berating himself under his breath, the stable lad could stand it no longer. He rose to his feet, took Quatre gently by the arm and steered him towards the sheltered side of the house. "We need to talk." He led the surprised boy far from the exposed front garden and heaved a sympathetic sigh, searching for just the right words. Quatre stood gaping at him, sincerely feeling the other's struggle as they both wiped their fevered brows in the cool shade. "What is it?" the gardener asked finally. Trowa looked solemnly at his little friend. "I hate seeing you like this, constantly afraid, so worried someone might see you that you won't hardly set one foot outside," he said plaintively, "you can't live that way. I can see what it's doing to you...and I don't like it." Quatre slumped against the wall, exhausted. True enough, all that worry was wearing him out. "I don't know what else to do," he whimpered, "I thought I was strong enough to ignore it and carry on, but I'm not..." Just as wearily, Trowa leaned against the wall too, thinking. If I have to choose which of our secrets to sacrifice...I'd rather it was mine. "You don't necessarily have to be the strong one," he said quietly, "you could let someone else be strong for you instead." Quatre turned his head and blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?" "I mean finding someone to protect you! Here in the house, out in the street, everywhere!" Trowa said excitedly, facing him with a strange fervour in his glass green eyes. "I'm talking about a bodyguard." The gardener's face filled with shock. It was actually a marvellous idea, but was it feasible? He thought for a bit, then shook his head in resignation. "Trowa, I'm only wealthy on paper, you know. All I have are my wages from the manor. Even if Miss Relena would allow me to bring an armed guard into the house, I couldn't possibly afford to pay someone to follow me around every minute of the day." "You wouldn't have to," Trowa said with a scared smile. There was no going back now. "I'll do it." Again, he was met by a look of confusion. "You?" The taller boy swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. Well, he doesn't seem displeased by the idea, at least... "It makes sense, doesn't it? I already live here, we share a room, we do most everything together as it is! I'd be perfect for the job!" Now Quatre looked genuinely terrified. "I can't ask you to do that!" he hollered, his strength suddenly returning for a worthy cause. "You have no idea what my sisters are like! Some of them have trained for years waiting for an opportunity just like this, trained in combat and warfare! You can't hold them off with a...a...w-with a pitchfork and a riding crop!" Trowa looked nervously to either side, then took Quatre's arm again and walked to the back of the house. Quatre followed patiently, knowing that Trowa never did anything without a good reason, and therefore whatever he had to say must be of grave importance. They walked quietly to the outermost edge of the property, not far from where Arthur was oiling and cleaning Lord Peacecraft's old collection of hunting rifles. At last, far from any ears he didn't wish to be heard by, Trowa released the gardener's arm and ran a shaking, sweaty hand through his gravity-defying hair. "There's something about me you don't know." To his relief, Quatre smiled. "I knew there was something, but not knowing what it was didn't bother me," he said softly. "I trust you." Just that small reassurance lifted a great burden off Trowa's heart. It pained him to keep secrets from his best, and indeed only, friend in the world, and now he had a chance to atone. They went to the massive tree at the center of the back property line and sat down amongst it's gnarled roots. Trowa silently collected his thoughts and began to speak. "Three years ago, I was living in Spain, on the shores of the Mediterranean. I was born there, but I never knew my family or where they disappeared to...instead, the Spanish navy raised me. I lived in the barracks of a drydock where the men built ships of war, and they taught me everything I could possibly need to know about sailing the open seas. For many years it was a wonderful time..." Trowa's eyes glazed over for just a moment, then suddenly turned severe. "A new group of men came, pirates and cutthroats, the lot of them. They wanted me to grow up like them, instead of being one of the honest sailors, and they taught me how to shoot, how to fight, how to poison and deceive people...all the filthy, underhanded facets of their trade." He pulled his knees closer to his chest as his voice began dripping with bile and disgust. "I was good at it. "Then trouble started brewing across the Atlantic. The United States demanded that the Spanish vacate Cuba, and in the spring, three years ago, we declared war. I was only thirteen but tall for my age, an experienced mariner and a fighter. I was too good to be left behind, but I didn't want to go to war. The sailors said I couldn't turn my back on my country, the pirates told me not to run from a good fight...but I just couldn't go with them. I couldn't stand the thought of being sent out on the ocean, forced to kill hundreds of men I felt no malice for..." His voice crackled and heaved with the weight of his sorrow. Quatre reached out and clutched the slim, tanned hand perched on the other boy's knee. This was the hidden pain he could only barely sense from his friend when he let his guard down. He cringed in sympathy, knowing that for a man of few words, letting such a deluge of emotion spill forth was a huge, but painful, step towards healing. "I ran away, Quatre. I was never so ashamed as when I abandoned my countrymen," he said. "The war is long over, but I'm still afraid to go home, afraid I don't have a home anymore after what I did. I'm a traitor and a coward!" "No you're not!" Quatre cried, on the verge of tears. "You freely offered to defend me against my family, and watch over me all hours of the day..." He brought a pale hand to Trowa's flushed and quivering cheek, lifting his face up to look deep into his heartbroken eyes. "Those aren't the actions of a coward." Trowa covered Quatre's tiny hand with his own, looking up into the glorious, astonished sunshine of true brotherhood revealed. He isn't the least bit repulsed or disgusted by what I did...I told him, and it hasn't changed anything between us! He felt the cool, soft hand under his, as if just noticing it for the first time; perhaps something had changed between them, but if Trowa was honest with himself, it felt good. He twisted around to face Quatre and took the small hand in both of his. "My point is," he said with urgency, "I have the skills to protect you, and I'm so much stronger than I used to be! I'm not your Rashid, and I'm certainly not forty men who can be everywhere at once, but your friendship and your happiness mean so much to me that they outweigh the danger. Quatre...let me do this for you." Quatre blushed crimson and couldn't hold back a broad grin. "Well, I don't suppose I'll be able to change your mind." "Not a chance," Trowa replied through a smile of his own. "Are you really as good as you say?" Quatre asked, teasing him with a raised eyebrow. Trowa took that as a challenge and greeted it with open arms. With a sly little smirk, he rose and led his friend over to where Arthur was working on the rifles. A word or two later, and he had one of the slim, glistening machines hefted up on his shoulder and aimed over the back wall into the vast parkland that bordered the manor's property. Trowa licked his lips and peered through the sights of the rifle. "See that birch tree way over there? The one with the sawed-off stump facing the house?" Quatre leaned closer to him and looked over his shoulder at the sparse forest. "Yeah..." "Watch." As fate would have it, just as Trowa was levelling the rifle against the unsuspecting birch tree, Heero stood near an open window in the art gallery on the third floor, straightening pictures. Fate also arranged that he had been carrying his revolver all the time ever since the staring contest with Treize, and was half expecting the Count to shoot him in the back at the earliest opportunity. The net result of all this was that when the inevitable loud bang came from the back garden, Heero promptly spun around and shot an innocent vase on the mantlepiece. A quick scan of the area revealed that Heero was all alone with a room full of art and one broken vase. He looked down the halls from each of the two doorways with his revolver at the ready, but saw no one. Next, he flew to the window, and upon seeing Trowa and Quatre playing with deadly firearms in the distance, beat his head against the wall and cursed his supreme idiocy. A little jumpy today, Yuy? "What's going on in here?" a girl's voice cried. Heero whirled around again, keeping the pistol behind his back. A very startled Hilde was standing in the doorway with her feather duster, fortunately not at an angle from which she could see the broken vase or the bullet hole in the wall. Heero pointed innocently to the window. "Shooting practice. Outside." Hilde scrunched up her face and stammered. "B-but it sounded like it came from--" "Echo," he cut her off sharply. His tone and countenance were clear indicators that he had no desire to prolong the conversation. "Oh," the maid said, sounding only partially convinced. She didn't flinch as the butler started walking towards her with one hand still behind his back, probably with the intention of shoving her back out into the hall. Before she was evicted from the gallery, she pulled a scrap of paper from her apron pocket and held it out to Heero. "Duo asked me to give you this, if I saw you before he did." Heero took it wordlessly as she left, making a mental note to sweep the vase remnants into the coal scuttle later. A note from Duo? Walking in front of the fireplace, bits of broken porcelain crunching under his shoes, he put the gun back into it's well-hidden shoulder holster and unfolded the note. He was surprised to find that his student's penmanship was actually improving, but even more perplexed by the actual words he had written:
He read the lines over and over again; it looked like a Haiku, but was Duo alert and conscientious enough to not only discover Heero's nationality, but also to actually research his culture? The thought that he might be genuinely interested in who Heero was as a person, or would have been, if not for a life's training to supress it, contented him somewhat. There was more to the note besides the slighty cornball poem; he was given a set of precise instructions using bigger words than necessary, as if Duo wished to show off how well he paid attention during his reading lessons. Heero was to slip away immediately after dinner and take a carriage to a given address some distance from the city. He was also to exert himself as little as possible. Ridiculous, was his immediate reaction, but as the minutes ticked by and he stood in the same place, poring over the last five syllables of the poem, curiosity overwhelmed him. Heero was that weary tiger in the velvet-lined cage, and Duo had appointed himself zookeeper for the night...but to do what? **********Duo apparently slipped out as soon as he finished eating, but Heero was held back by having to clear away the dishes from the dining room. The butler tried to work out how much of a head start the chef had gained by leaving early, as he hastily wrapped up his regular duties for the evening. After jogging up to the attic and changing into his street clothes, he bribed a few of the other servants to cover for him and sneaked out to secure transportation to the address in the note. All the way to the edge of Surrey country, he sat in the hired carriage, staring at the same line of Duo's messy, discombobulated handwriting: 'Tiger will be fed.' He didn't know why, but it got to him. The driver almost missed the drop-off point, but the spot Duo indicated was indeed there, miles from civilization, marked by a little wooden sign nailed to a tree trunk. Heero leapt out and instructed the driver to wait. It was a very peculiar place to be stopping for any reason, merely a farmer's field surrounded by treelines and hedgerows on all sides. He read the instructions again; far across the field was a thin spot in the trees where one could cross over from this field into the next. He hiked a good hundred yards or so towards the treeline, and as he grew nearer, he could see an old wooden fence intertwined with the greenery. Closer still, and a figure became visible, sitting on the fence and swinging his legs back and forth. "What kept you?" the figure whined, flipping his braid over his shoulder. "Hn." Heero watched as Duo jumped off on the other side of the fence, into the second field, and climbed over to follow him. He noted that the chef was wearing the old brown suit and tattered cap he'd worn the day Heero captured him in the alley after his last pie heist. "What did you drag me out here for?" Duo took off his cap and hung it on a low tree branch, then began walking out into the field. "Just a little light exercise!" he chirped merrily, motioning for Heero to follow. "I hope you ate all your vegetables like a good boy, 'cause you're gonna be needing the energy!" the chef teased with an impish grin. Heero rolled his eyes and stalked after him. Within minutes, they were at the approximate center of a very large grassy field, bathed in a faintly tangerine light from the setting sun. The air had turned comfortably cool, and a few birds twittering here and there made it a very relaxing scene. It made Heero realize what a foreign concept relaxation was to him. Duo obviously wanted to show me something. Maybe this is it... "Okay!" Duo shouted, rubbing his hands together and facing his victim. "I want you to take a good look around and tell me what you see." Heero scanned the horizon. "A field...in which we are probably trespassing, as evidenced by the stable and horses over there." He pointed to the end of the meadow to his right; there were indeed about three dozen horses grazing, and they had to belong to someone, logically. Duo nodded. "Nice clean air, nature, wildlife, scenic vistas, soul-cleasing solitude, et cetera, et cetera. Beautiful, don't you think?" "Get on with it." Duo hung an arm around Heero's shoulders and smiled, ignoring his friend's impetuousness. "What we're gonna do, see, is we're going for a bit of a run." He slapped his own chest a few times, inhaling flamboyantly through his nose as he did so. "Clean out the old bellows, get the blood pumping, you know what I mean?" Heero folded his arms and waited for the punchline. "We'll be running from this spot here," Duo said, pointing to the grass at their feet, "all the way to that hedgerow at the end of the field there." He indicated the opposite end from where the horses were grazing, sensibly. "But there are a few ground rules. If you fall down or stop running, you lose. If you close your eyes at any time except to blink, you lose. And if you quit and run to either side instead of straight ahead to the trees, you also lose." Heero squinted. Why so many conditions? He eyed the boy suspiciously and unbuttoned his waistcoat in preparation for an easy sprint. "If you insist," he said, shaking his head. "Oh no no wait!" Duo yelped quickly, halting him. "It's not time to run yet." Heero growled and looked up at the Almighty in a plea for the strength not to belt him one. Duo looked at the horses. "Actually, what time have you got?" Heero looked at his pocket watch. "Eight o'clock exactly." "Oh geez! Yeah, you'd better get ready to run." Duo took his position, leaning forward with his arms dangling, and looked over his shoulder at the horses again. Heero wondered why. Just as he was about to ask what was so damn fascinating about those horses, Heero heard a distant, high-pitched clanging, remarkably similar in cadence and frequency to the alarm clock he'd bought Duo in a last-ditch effort to get him up in the mornings. The same clock that had gone missing from their room recently. The clanging was quickly followed by a series of loud, rapid snaps and bangs that sounded most unpleasantly like a string of firecrackers. Duo's smile grew. Startled by the firecrackers, the entire herd of horses reared up in unison and took off galloping away from the noisy stables at breakneck speed, whinnying all the way. Puffs of smoke were rising behind them, making the hideous suggestion that the ex-thief had rigged a time-delay bomb and planted it stretegically on the property beforehand. Heero turned on his companion, eyes wide, not wanting to believe it. "What did you do!?" Duo smiled back. "You can start running now." The ex-thief took off towards the hedgerow, his braid trailing out behind him. Heero looked at the massive clump of wild, spooked animals charging towards them and decided at that particular moment that Duo had the right idea. He ran after the boy and caught up with him easily, but couldn't spare enough breath to yell at him if he didn't want to fall behind. The horses' hoofbeats grew in ferocity behind them, like thunder rolling in at the beginning of the storm to end all storms. Quick as the boys were, the herd behind them was gaining ground, and they were barely halfway to the treeline. Duo squeezed out a few shouts between hurried breaths as he ran, to make sure the rules were being obeyed. "Straight ahead...eyes open...or you lose, Heero!!" It was a dare, now. Face being trampled to death without a hint of recoil, or bail out and never discover the next level of mental endurance. You think I can't handle this? Heero thought, throwing Duo an unseen sneer, just watch me! He picked up speed, feeling the crisp, cool wind in his face, whipping his already unruly dark hair into an even more tangled mess. His legs suddenly decided to start aching and his lungs were stinging from the frantic gasps for air, but it didn't register with him; he felt so alive at that moment, he scarcely noticed the first of the horses overtaking him. Flashes of brown fur separated the boys, and their own ragged breathing was more than swallowed up by the roar of the hoofbeats filling their ears. The horses whinnyed and snorted, their eyes wild as they bumped and dodged the slow-moving humans. More than one of them jostled Heero as they passed, and he faltered, but would not fall down, would not let them by without earning the right directly from him. Only a few moments passed, and the entire herd was ahead of the boys, kicking dirt and grass in their faces at full gallop. Heero's entire nervous system was soaked in adrenaline, and had just peaked, sensing the danger was over, when the herd reached the hedgerow, turned round, and started galloping back the other way. Most were running straight at him. Shimatta... "Don't you dare close your eyes!" he heard Duo scream. Heero had no choice now, he had to stare down the thrashing animals or let the braided twit get the better of him. Brashly defiant of the danger, the boys ran straight into the thundering herd, crosswinds colliding in a tornado of hot, sweat-saturated air, peppered with the soil of the meadow. They ran without taking another breath until their paths converged with the horses and somehow, by whatever grace or miracle followed on their heels, they lunged through the herd, closed the last few yards to the treeline unscathed, and collapsed into two coughing, choking, broken heaps on the grass. The hoofbeats faded, replaced by the triumphant hoots and hollers of the chef, who lay on his back in the scraggly weeds, laughing raucously and punching the air directly above him. Heero looked over at him, also on his back in the grass, panting and wheezing, and was sure the boy had gone mad. Insanity, however, was not going to defend him from a slow, painful death. Omae o korosu... They struggled to their feet, and Heero was just about to make a lunge for the throat when his victim threw his arms around him and spun them around in a wide circle. "Ha haaaaa!! We made it! Woohoooooo! Doesn't it feel great!?" Heero pushed him away and glared. "You idiot! We could have been killed!!" He stormed off in a straight line towards the wooden fence. "Dying's a lot trickier when you've already become the walking dead!" Duo called out after him. ...walking dead... Heero stopped. The disobedient portion of his brain asked him why he was so angry. He wasn't injured, in fact he felt no pain whatsoever, and he hadn't really feared for his life because in the back of his mind he thought the horses would probably avoid trampling them. At the most, he was only hyperventilating a bit. So what was the problem? Duo used the pause in Heero's forward motion to step in front of him. "We're not going home until I'm absolutely sure you understand," he snapped, still breathing heavily. "It's a rush, Heero...that's what I wanted you to feel. That's what keeps me going when every day feels exactly like the one before it, when I'm expected to lumber around the house like a mindless drone, always taking orders!" Heero's brow knit with frustration, and his eyes took on a glazed look as if his inner programming was stuck in a feedback loop. Why was he angry? What Duo just put him through wasn't painful...it was exhilirating...but his body didn't know what to make of it. His heart was racing, his breathing had only barely slowed down even though he was standing still, and his nerves were charged with a strange electricity...but those symptoms were associated with anger, fear, and pain, were they not? "When you chased me through that alley, and then the attic storeroom, and then when Treize caught us sneaking back in, every one of those times was this huge thrill, like the thrill I used to get running from the police after I'd just stolen something," Duo said breathlessly. "Not that I'm complaining about not having to steal anymore, hell no, it's great! But...being stuck in this routine...it's like my stomach's finally full, but my soul is starving." He took another large step towards Heero, grabbed him forcibly by the lapels and pulled himself close until they were only inches apart. The braided boy's proximity reminded Heero of the other two times they had faced each other at such a small distance, with one important contrast...this time Duo was the one in control. He couldn't think of a thing to say, and just stared straight into the other's eyes with a severe case of brain fog. "That's why I left that big dinner to the last minute! That's why I purposely overdose on coffee! I need that pressure, that energy, that...that rush to feel whole!" His hands left Heero's dusty lapels to land on his shoulders instead. Their noses were a mere hair's breadth apart. "And you're just like me, Heero, I can tell. You need it too. You like it." They were eyeing each other with almost predatory glares, as the concept slowly shifted into clarity, for both of them. Anger, fear, and pain were all Heero had ever known, all Jeffrhyss had given him. Duo had just presented a new option that was just as intense, only much more enticing. Heero took the hands off his shoulders and let them fall as he gave a scalding look to their owner, all traces of anger erased. "We'd better go find your clock before one of the horses steps on it." He sidestepped Duo, completely calmed, and began the long trek to the stables. Duo turned and watching him walk away with a broad grin, knowing he'd made his point and that it was going to stick, no matter how Heero tried to hide it. Don't worry, pal...I won't let either one of us starve. He laughed and followed him, already thinking about the next lesson. During the hike across the field, the occasional horse would look at Heero and snort; he would glare at it, and the subject was quickly closed. He found himself contemplating the scenery in a way he hadn't bothered to when he first arrived at the massive field. The sun was sinking futher below the treetops, and the sky was turning all shades of blue, purple, and crimson. It was surprising to him that he couldn't ever remember looking at a sky that colour, despite all the opportunities he'd had to do so over the years. His secretly rebellious side piped up once again and suggested that perhaps Duo's manufactured brush with death had something to do with it. As his gaze wandered this way and that, he saw something out of place on the stretch of wooden fence where he found Duo. Sitting in the chef's place was a stranger, a boy dressed all in white with black hair pulled tightly away from his face. Heero stopped and looked more carefully; he knew this boy...from across the street when Treize arrived at the manor! His clothes were different, but the stern, Asian face was the same. Was he being followed? The boy stared back at him menacingly, perched on the fence with one black slippered foot on the upper strut and one on the lower. Uneasiness trickled into Heero's consciousness as he immediately registered the intruder as a threat. "Whatcha lookin' at?" Duo asked, just catching up to him. Heero turned towards the voice out of instinct, then looked back at the fence. The boy was gone. Only Duo's cap remained, hanging on the tree branch where he left it. ".....nothing." Duo brushed off the exchange and led Heero by the arm, cracking jokes and poking him playfully in the ribs with his elbow to see how long it would take him to start swatting back in self-defense. No more serious words were spoken between them that night, only frivolous clap-trap meant to fritter away the time, and only in one direction. After retrieving the clock and the cap, avoiding the eyes of the curious farmer, and burying the burnt-out shells of the firecrackers, they took Heero's carriage back to London in silence. For the first time since they met, it was a comfortable silence, for both of them. |
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Next, in Episode Twelve: Treize makes it known to Heero that he's aware of the boy's snooping and gives him a single warning: Back off now, or face the consequences. Lucille becomes unwittingly entangled in Lord Jeffrhyss' web of deceit, just as his plans for Heero are about to change. Is there anyone on her side in the town of Cloverderry Glen?
Yep, that's right, remember "Lucille"? Well, she's baaa-aaaack! And we'll meet someone new next episode! I hope everyone will be able to guess who it "really" is! =^_~= Ok, I'm on a very strict schedule for episodes until October, when I might catch a VERY short breather. Next one's on July 31st! See you then!