Memento [Part Seven]

Something came up. It was hardly the scenario he imagined in his head. He would have preferred one of those dangerous assignments that got his blood running but this was tedious nonsense. It was too easy it made him yawn every five minutes.

"Oh c'mon! Don't start showing off again. You know we can't do this without you. We could aim but this is a whole different kind of aiming," Duo said, shaking Trowa out of his boredom.

It was hardly the job he thought of before leaving his sister's place in a hurry. Now he had to reschedule his visit and face the rest of his colleagues with his bruised face.

"What did you tell him?" Heero asked all of a sudden. It was usually the easiest way to find out the source of the injury.

"Nothing much," he answered. If Quatre had told them his version then it was fine with him. At least that way, he'd be able to figure out what he did wrong in the first place.

"He looked pretty upset when we picked him up," Wufei said.

Trowa didn't answer but he noticed that everyone else wanted answers. In truth, he couldn't understand how the spur-of-the-moment comment he made could have bothered Quatre that much.

"Where is he?" he asked, for the first time noticing that Quatre wasn't around. They'd never left him alone longer than an hour and it was strange to find him nowhere in sight.

"He's at Relena's place."

It was hardly the answer he expected. It would have made sense to bring him along instead. Relena was a hot target herself.

"You better have a good explanation for taking him there," he said, starting to wake up from his boredom. "Not only is she busy, she also has an army of snipers waiting for her."

"He will be safer there for now," Heero said. "Besides, he got an ulcer before we left and I doubt you would want us to bring someone clutching his stomach for the ride. There's too much turbulence around this area."

"Yeah, one more disease to add to the list," Duo added and put his arms behind his head. "That doctor's visit didn't seem to help."

Trowa turned his head to look at Duo. It was the first time he noticed that the man was unusually sullen, a bit cheery but too serious to decipher anything. He began to wonder just what he did wrong this time.

"Care to fill me in on why you have that look?" Trowa asked.

"You don't have to be such a cold-hearted bastard all the time you know." There was an accusatory tone in Duo's voice. He wasn't even looking directly at Trowa.

"I didn't leave him. He left me," Trowa answered. He didn't know what it was about that statement coming from his mouth that made him cringe.

"Thanks. You won't believe how many questions that answers," Duo said.

"Continue this conversation later. The aircraft is coming into view," Wufei interrupted. He was in the co-pilot's seat, taking over the controls when he realized that Trowa wasn't going to pay attention any time soon. As soon as their 'mini-mission' was over, he was going to make sure that the continued conversation wouldn't take a wrong turn.

"Just stick the nozzle in the aircraft's tank so we could get this over with, Trowa," Heero said. "We still have to pick Quatre up before heading home."

===

It was hypnotizing. The sweet sound of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake was filling the air with tranquility. It was as if he was dreaming and at the same time being unconsciously led into the music room, the place he never allowed himself to step through in what seemed like ages. Lead by the music, he opened the door to Relena's luxurious music room and stepped in.

What he saw in there was not quite what he expected. Quatre was seated by the piano, playing calmly just as he imagined. What surprised him, however, was the position he was in. His legs were curled up to his chest, his chin was rested on his knees, and his hands reached out to the keys. Trowa assumed that it was the result of having to clutch his stomach. Still, it was a mystery how he managed to play despite being in such an awkward position.

"Do you play the violin?" he asked all of a sudden, unaware that he was interrupting. It was the most natural thing to ask after all.

"Hmm," Quatre said, looking up to meet his guest. "Can I help you?"

His hands were still working on the keys and his face conveyed that of confusion. His eyes looked weary, his hair was in disarray and his pajamas were rumpled. He looked like he had just gotten out of bed, which was probably the case. What bothered Trowa more was the fact that Quatre looked disoriented. He didn't know what to think of it. He looked perfectly fine when they parted a few hours ago.

"Quatre?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"So we know each other," Quatre stated calmly, finally letting go of his hands on the keys when the piece ended.

The simple statement was more eerie than it was intended to be. Trowa blamed it on the endless list of medication Quatre was taking but he couldn't tell for sure. There was something wrong with him. He just couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"Come to think of it, what am I doing here?" he asked. Trowa was inclined to take a step back. "I don't remember living in such a big place," he continued.

Trowa decided that he was going to leave while he still had the chance. Whatever was happening, he couldn't really understand. Both the silence and Quatre's sudden change was enough to make him move quickly toward the still open door.

"Are you leaving already?" Quatre asked. His face didn't convey that of disappointment, just curiosity. "We just met. Would you care to indulge me in a conversation?" Trowa reached for the door. "Oh, I must have missed answering your question earlier. Could you repeat it for me?"

Trowa tried again. Perhaps he had to talk to him and find out which one of them was really loosing it.

"Do you play the violin?" he asked again.

"Violin?" Quatre said and then placed his head on his knees sideways, looking up into the ceiling and then at Trowa to answer the question. "I can only play the piano," he said. "Why do you ask? Do you play the violin?"

Trowa shook his head. He was unsure of who he was talking to.

"I just miss hearing the sounds from the violin," he said. It was true and as much as he wanted to deny it, the sounds coming from the piano was just as sweet a lullaby as the sounds from the violin could have been.

Quatre nodded and then stretched his arms before facing the piano once again. "I can't grant your request but since you've been a very good acquaintance, I'll give you the honor of picking what I should play next," he said.

Before Trowa could speak up, he heard another voice. He was displeased with the interruption and looked to the source of it. He was surprised to find a woman run past him and toward Quatre. He didn't know if he was supposed to stop her. He was just as confused as anybody else so he simply watched her from his position halfway in and halfway out the door.

"Quatre," she said. It was apparent that she knew him.

"Lara?" he asked. "What am I supposed to be doing here?"

Trowa continued to watch. So, the 'good friend' had finally come. She didn't look the least bit harmful and actually looked really sweet, someone who could be trusted.

"It's fine Quat," he heard her say. "You were just getting another one of those episodes."

All of a sudden, Trowa felt like he was intruding on something. For the first time, he truly felt like he was the stranger. He felt like this Quatre really was somebody else. How else would he have known who she was when he didn't even recognize him?

When he saw Quatre lean over to place his head on her shoulder he knew it was the final straw. All the worry and the pity he felt for him was replaced with that of bitter resentment. He was ready to scream.

Before he could make a fool of himself, he quickly walked out of the room and into the area where the others were waiting. They asked him what was wrong but he ignored all their questions. It was no good to say anything when he didn't know how to say it. He felt betrayed although he was never really deceived in the first place. That alone was enough to keep him quiet the rest of the way back to his apartment.

===

"Alzheimer's," she said. "I work with the elderly who are suffering from Alzheimer's disease."

Trowa was not interested. After waking up to his annoying radio clock yet again, he was in no mood to listen to the woman blabber about herself. Of course, it wasn't really blabbering. When he arrived early in the morning, he found Heero, Duo and Wufei attacking her with questions. She just happened to be around, apparently a victim of their curiosity. Therefore, she wasn't blabbering. She was simply the blabber receptor.

"Boy, that must really be hard work," Duo said.

Trowa ignored all of them and continued to refill his cup with hot water. He took a tea bag from one of the boxes and then dipped it in. Lara, was it? The woman had charm. She managed to get Wufei interested in her work and she managed to get past Heero's constant suspicion of strangers. She sounded interesting but Trowa would never admit it. From day one, he'd already had a sour aversion to her name.

"Not really," she answered. "Hey, Trowa, care to join in?" she asked.

So, she was pleasant too. It seemed that she knew all of them from the few minutes that she'd been around.

Trowa threw the tea bag in the trash and stepped out the door.

"Tro, watch your manners!" he heard Duo call out from the closed door and continued to his new destination. The briefing room sounded like the most appealing place to spend the rest of his morning break. He was sure that nobody else would think to use the room. It was cozy enough with a couch on one end. It was too quiet but it would do.

He walked passed the offices, ignoring every single greeting or inquiry he received and walked into the briefing room. He turned the doorknob and stopped midway when he noticed that there was somebody else in the room. He immediately stepped out.

"Don't worry. It's not contagious," Quatre said from inside the room.

Trowa stopped midway from closing the door. He'd already been noticed and it was no use trying to leave.

"Exactly what is not contagious?" he asked, still positioned by the door with his hand on the knob. He couldn't see Quatre from his position but he could hear him clear enough.

"Trowa, I don't know why you're trying to avoid me but you're welcome to join me if you want to."

Trowa rolled his eyes and then opened the door all the way. The day before it was 'who are you, you very friendly stranger?' and all of a sudden they were buddies on a name-calling basis again. Trowa certainly hoped that it wasn't a game Quatre was playing because it was making him more irritable than anything else.

"I was just," he started and then noticed all the papers that were scattered on the large briefing table. There was a calculator, a ruler, a pencil and other oddly shaped measuring devices on top of the papers. Quatre was on the couch, half laying down with a pencil in one hand and a few papers on the other. He was wearing a different pair of glasses and had his shirt slightly open, looking at Trowa from his half-reclined position. He looked smart, he looked busy, but most of all, he looked mouth-watering.

Trowa wanted to slap himself.

"You don't have to make up an excuse," Quatre said.

It was driving Trowa nuts. One day he looked like he was ready to keel over and the next day, he looked ready to kill.

"Who said I was making up excuses?" Trowa said.

Quatre gave him a knowing look.

"Sure, you were just on your way to your office at the other end of the hallway far away from here or to the snack area at the other end of the building. Don't worry. I won't bother you if you don't want me to."

"What are you doing?" Trowa asked. It was obvious that he was changing the subject.

"Working," Quatre answered and then looked back at the papers he had in his hand. Trowa watched him erase a few numbers and replace them with different ones. He had to remind himself that this Quatre was an engineer.

"I thought you were off work for as long as you were with us."

"Wrong," Quatre said. "How else would I feed myself?"

Trowa sat down to look at the papers that were scattered on the table, making sure not to spill his tea on any of the documents. He did recognize some of them because he worked as a mechanic before he became a Gundam pilot. These, however, were a little beyond his comprehension.

"You look well off for someone who has to do all this work," Trowa said. "You just got yourself a new pair of glasses and a new outfit after all."

"So you noticed," Quatre said, putting down the papers he was looking through on the ground. He twirled his pencil between his fingers and looked at Trowa. "They're a present from Lara," he said. "She said my former choice of clothing had the tendency to ward people off. I see that she made the right choice. I haven't effectively warded you off yet."

Trowa smirked. He did always hate the way this Quatre carried himself but he never thought that he looked hideous. In fact, he thought this Quatre, or any other variation of Quatre for that matter, would look delectable even with the most horrendous set of clothes on him.

"You look happy today," Quatre said. It was apparent that he was unaware of what was going through Trowa's mind.

"You look healthy today," Trowa said in response. "No illnesses? No dementia? I'm surprised."

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" Quatre said. He didn't look annoyed, just amused with the sudden change in Trowa's attitude.

"It's your choice," Trowa said and then sipped his quickly cooling tea. He noticed another cup at the end of the table and looked in to see coffee. It wasn't just any coffee. It was black. His husband did have a strong aversion to coffee so it was strange to find his look-a-like drinking the detested substance.

"What are you working on?" Trowa started. It was nice to talk after depriving himself of conversation ever since he came to work in the morning. "Are you working on mobile suits?"

"Not quite," Quatre answered. "Right now I'm working on a device that will make construction out in space easier. The mobile suits that are available now lack the ability to make fine touch adjustments."

"Fine touch adjustments?" Trowa asked. A picture of his beloved Heavyarms came to mind. It had been a while since he'd even thought about mobile suits.

Quatre reached his hand out and grasped something invisible in the air. He motioned, turning a small knob and looked with concentration at what he was doing.

"Imagine a device," he said. "Imagine a device that will make those big, clunky mobile suit hands even more dexterous than the human hand. Imagine an extension of your hand for making repairs just outside the colonies. There would no longer be any need for those non-ergonomically sound control sticks."

"You're pretty confident about your work," Trowa said. He was amazed at how much he did enjoy talking to Quatre now that he'd given himself the chance to do so. He was more interesting than he initially thought. His ideas were a far cry from his Quatre's business talk but it was just as fascinating. Maybe Catherine's advice was still the best after all.

"That's because I like my work," Quatre said.

Trowa looked at him again. Staring at him was the only thing he could really get himself to do.

"What did I say?" Quatre asked, surprised at Trowa's scrutiny.

"Doesn't it bother you that you're sick all the time?"

Trowa didn't know what he was thinking. In fact, that was the last question he wanted to ask. In spite of that, there were some things his mind wanted to seek out and the topic he brought up was one of them. It sounded rude but he wanted to know.

"Actually, I don't mind. Do you find that odd?"

Trowa nodded in response while sipping his tea.

"I thought as much," Quatre said. "Illness is one of those stigmas that is blamed on the victim despite the victim's lack of control over it. Everybody says exercise more, eat right, live well but they find themselves flabbergasted when the same illness plagues them despite all their precautions. It's complex, Trowa. You can't control everything. The extent of your control can never be ultimate."

Trowa was surprised to find himself thinking about what he said. All of a sudden, he felt ashamed for all his earlier assumptions about the man. There was more to him than the picture of the man lying dormant in his sickness.

"Don't think about it too much," Quatre said, interrupting his thoughts. "It usually drives people insane, my line of reasoning, that is."

Before Trowa could say anything, he was cut off, for the second time, by Quatre's 'good friend'. Quatre's good friend was what he preferred to call her now.

"Quat! It's time to take your medication and what is with that look? You're going to get a cold. Are you flaunting yourself? If I'd known better I'd think that you were trying to seduce someone."

"Speaking of control," Quatre said as he sat up and was greeted by his friend. He rolled his eyes when she began buttoning up his shirt all the way to the top. It looked like she wanted to choke him.

"Easy on the buttons," Trowa said. "You're strangling him and besides, he looked more enticing with the former look."

Lara choked and Quatre laughed.

"What have you two been doing in here?" she asked and continued to cough and look at Trowa in disbelief. "According to Duo, you're the most reserved of the group. Am I missing something here?"

Trowa stood up and threw his now empty cup in the trash.

"I think Quatre's hot," he simply stated and then left the room.