Drowning: Chapter 7
Quatre's Confession, Quatre's Hope
Pairings: 1xR, 2xH
Quatre's POV
Warnings: slight swearing
Notes: Upon reading the last chapter I came to the conclusion that I have either been studying the Holocaust too long or that I am a very sick person. But anyhoo…this story came out of reading Children of the Flames by Lucette Matalon Lagnado and Sheila Cohn Dekel which is about the experimentation on twins in Auschwitz. Hopefully these next few chapters will further explain what's going on.
Disclaimer: see chapters 1-6
"When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my 'mind's eye' flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope! ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head." 1
There's someone standing next to my bed. I can feel them looming over me. Slow down the breathing, relax the muscles, give him no hint that you're awake….
"GAAAHHHH!!!!"
Hmmm…that didn't work out as well as I had planned. Oh, the execution of the movement was nicely done. The timing, spot on. The only trouble with my clandestine attack was that my "victim" happened to be a six foot three inch ex-mercenary, whereas I was a five foot four, hundred pound pushover.
"That was pretty good, Cat. You almost got me," Trowa says in that infuriatingly calm, yet smug way. His eyes are dancing with laughter.
"Yuck it up fly boy. You just wait…as soon as I manage to….grr…heh….get you off of me…shiiii…"
"What? What was that Cat? Do you need some help?"
Don't get me wrong, I love it when Trowa's playful side comes out, just not when he's sitting on my stomach.
Oh Allah! Not that! ANYTHING BUT THAT!!!
"Nooooooo!"
"Does someone not enjoy being tickled?"
Alright. That's it. He wants a fight? Then that's what my dear friend Trowa will get!
"Ow!"
"GRRRR!!!"
"Hey! Come on now!"
"Haha! I have you now…shit!"
"Ooof!"
"You're…ow…on…erg…my foot!"
"You started it!"
"And I'm going to finish it! YEEEEE ahhhh!"
"Ouch! No biting!!"
"Ew, Trowa…you don't taste very good…"
"Shut up. Now get over here! I'm going take you down and…"
"And what?"
"I dunno, but it's going to hurt real bad!"
Five minutes, two tired teenagers, and one shredded pair of my new pajamas later…
"Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying to take me on."
"You ruined my pajamas asshole."
"Such language! I thought you are supposed to be a gentleman and all that."
"Ya well…hey Trowa?"
"Hey Quatre?"
"Why were you looming over my bed a few minutes ago?"
"I don't "loom." You're just a midget."
I'm sticking my tongue out at him, but he's too busy trying to fix his hair to notice.
"It's a lost cause you know. The hair."
"Ya."
He finally manages to get it into a fairly reasonable approximation of what it was a few minutes ago before being "attacked."
"I'm worried about you Cat," He says so quietly that I almost miss it.
"I know."
"Ya, I guess you would, wouldn't you," Now he's looking at me like he knows something. Like he…no. He's just trying to trick me.
"What do you mean by that?" Oh, yeah, real cute. Try for coy. That always works with your best friend.
"Your sister…she told us what happened to you. With the experimentations on Newtype children."
We're both very quiet for a long time, just staring at each other. He's feeling pity for me right now. I hate it. I hate it when people feel that for me. I don't need any fucking pity.
"Well. Isn't that interesting. So. Now you know," I say in my iciest voice.
"I wanted to be here for you when you woke up. After…after hearing, what…what…you know. I just wanted to be here for you."
"Lying doesn't suit you Trowa. Want to try again?"
Now he's not even trying to look at me. The tips of his fingers are rubbing together in a gesture of uncertainty. It's sort of freaking me out. Trowa is rarely if ever uncertain. He wants to tell me something but he's afraid of making me more upset. Damn. I'm really being a jerk today. He's here to help me, that much I'm positive of, and I have to be mean to him because he feels sorry for me.
"Trowa. I'm sorry. Please…please just say what you need to say."
He takes his time before answering, trying out the words in his mind before speaking them out-loud. I know he's doing this. And really it's a wasted effort because I can hear what he's thinking. Dear Allah. I can hear what he's thinking!
"Quatre," he finally says, bringing my attention back to him and away from my terrifying revelation, "Your sister…we all want to understand what happened to you. We are all your friends and we care about you so much! Irea thinks these…episodes, or whatever they are, are connected to what happened to you when you were six. After hearing what happened, I'm inclined to agree. We want to help you through this…we…I…Goddamn it Quatre! Why? Why didn't you tell us? Why couldn't you trust us enough to tell us?"
I've never seen Trowa this emotional. Never. There are actually tears in his eyes.
I hang my head, trying to escape his piercing gaze. Trying to sort out not only my thoughts, but his as well. He's deeply hurt. Why didn't I trust them? What did I think they would do?
Leave me. I thought they would leave me. They would hate me if they found out. But that isn't the case at all. They know, but they're still here for me. I feel like an even bigger jerk now. My friends are here for me and I can't even trust them. I don't deserve such friendship…
"Quatre? Cat? You ok?"
"Ya…um. Ya." He feels terrible and I feel terrible and right now I just want to curl up in a hole and disappear.
"I'm sorry Trowa. I'm so sorry! I…I was just so scared! I mean, look what happened the last time people found out about me!" A tiny slightly hysterical giggle escapes but I can't stop now.
"I had never even had contact with people my own age before, much less friends! I didn't know how you'd all react. I thought…I thought you would think I was a freak and would never talk to me again…or…or…"
"Or what?"
"I thought you'd kill me."
"What? Why would we do that?" Concern and worry and hurt are all coming off him in waves now.
"Can you really blame me? I mean, up until recently, the most important thing to all of us was the mission and saving the people. If any of you had thought I was a risk to the people because of what I was would you have hesitated to take me out?"
He's silent for a long time. I don't even have to be psychic to know what his answer would have been.
"But you know now that none of us would ever hurt you. Ever. You know that, right? Right Cat?"
"Ya, I guess."
"Believe me when I tell you that any one of us would never let you be hurt in any way. We're here for you Cat. We…we love you Cat. Don't judge us by the way we used to be…we didn't know any better than to fight. You're important to us. You always have been. It's just taken a while for some of us to realize it."
"I know. I love you guys too."
"So…since we're here for you, will you consider talking to us? I mean, you don't have to or anything…but I think it would be good for us, and for you."
He looks nervous and I can tell that it isn't just about the "lets get Cat to talk to us" mission anymore. He truly wants me to have someone to talk to.
"Thank you Trowa. I want to talk to you guys. I…you're right. It'll be good for me. But I…if I'm not comfortable…I mean…there are some things…I don't know if I can…"
"Cat, this is for you. Feel free to tell us whatever you can. But first, how about something to eat? Getting your butt kicked must have taken it all out of you."
We both laugh a little at this. I'm so lucky to have a friend like Trowa. I'm so lucky to have all of them.
-----------
Coming downstairs to face the other pilots turned into an ordeal in itself. I was so wrapped up in worrying and trying to sense what the others were thinking about me that I guess I psyched myself out. That, and tripped over the carpet and fell down the stairs. Yay for being a ditzy blonde.
I am, as always, amazed by reaction time of my fellow pilots. By the third thump on the way down the three of them were all crowded at the bottom of the steps looking up at me as I proceeded to half roll, half flail my way down the stairs. I'm pretty sure that Duo would have cracked up into unstoppable laughter had the whole situation not been so sad.
Quatre Winner: CEO of the Winner Corporations, ex-Gundam pilot, has taken dance lessons since he was three years old, can't walk to save his life.
As it was he had a coughing fit from trying not to laugh and Heero had to smack him on the back several times until he stopped.
Hearing all the commotion, Trowa decided to join us (finally). He didn't even need to ask me what happened. He knows me too well.
Now I'm sitting at my kitchen table, an ice pack on my post-migraine head and a heating pad on my aching back. Now that I'm finally ready to take stock of the situation I realize that there are a lot of people crowded around me. There are all of the guys, Relena, Hilde…wait, when did she get here? Helima is making tea and Irea is looking for the aspirin for my headache. Besides those two it looks like all my other sisters who live at home at the moment are here too. Lina and Rihana are studying to be a physical therapist and a pharmacist, respectively, at the local college where Helima is also attending as an Arabic major. Khalida has decided she never wants to grow up and move out, but at nineteen is starting to feel the affects of living at home with nothing to do. Samirah and Qamra are finishing up high school.
Suddenly I feel more loved and wanted than I have in a long time. Samirah is talking a mile a minute, as usual. I think Heero is getting annoyed. Qamra looks like she doesn't know what to do. She's very pretty but almost painfully shy among guys. And there are a lot of good looking guys here at the moment. I have always kind of wondered if being good-looking was a prerequisite for piloting a Gundam. Not that I think I'm all that great…I mean, I used to color myself brown with magic markers, but I have grown into myself a bit. Maybe being blonde isn't so bad. Ow. Allah. My back did not like that movement. In fact, I think it's a good thing I'm blonde. Saves me the trouble of explaining to people that I'm a klutz.
The other girls are sitting around the big wooden table which dominates our relatively small kitchen. The guys are lounging around the edges of the room almost at a loss for what to do when there is so much estrogen in one room. Despite the fact that everyone is worried and a little tense the atmosphere is friendly and reassuring. It's nice to have not only my family but my friends as well all gathered in one spot.
Ah, but all good things must come to an end.
"Cat? Do you think you're ready? There's no rush," Trowa is looking at me kindly.
I look around the table once and see and feel only support and love. I can do this. I'm ready. Bring on the inquisition.
"I just want to ask you a few questions, ok Cat?" Irea asks carefully,"If you want I can tell some of these guys to leave…?"
"No. It's ok. I'd…I'd like them to hear what I'm going to say. Go ahead. I'm ready."
"First of all, I want you to know that even though you've been doing a good job of trying to hide what's happening from us we're your big sisters and will always know everything about you. That being said, I want to know why you didn't come to any of us for help?"
Damn. I knew that one would come up sooner or later. After all, it was the same one Trowa had asked me first.
"I don't know. I guess I didn't want to bother you guys with my problems anymore. I'm supposed to be the man of the family now, right? I couldn't let you think I couldn't do my job or something."
It takes them a moment to realize that I'm serious before all of my sisters crack up into laughter. I must admit I am very taken aback at first. Then I remember that my sisters can find me humorous any time, any where.
"Oh Cat! We're not laughing at you! Well…hehe…ok, we sort of are, but it's not what you're thinking!" Samirah is gasping for breath and cracks up even more after seeing the stunned look on my face.
"We were just talking about it the other day," Irea says after calming down a bit," You are, and will always be, our little brother, and well…to hear you say that you're 'the man of the house' is just too funny! Oh, come now! Don't be mad. All I mean to say is that, it's just too strange to think of you taking care of us 'women folk' when I can clearly remember changing your diapers as a baby."
I'm laughing a little at this. I guess when I think about it it is pretty funny. All this time I thought I was the one taking care of my sisters and they have never stopped taking care of me! By this point even the other guys are laughing. For several moments no one can do anything because waves after waves of laughter are cutting off any chance at conversation.
Afterwards everyone is much calmer, the tension and worry is all but gone from the room. Suddenly it's not so much an interrogation as it is a time for me to share my feelings with the people I love.
"I'm terribly sorry," I say after the small room is quiet again," I never meant to worry any of you. I'm glad you're here for me."
"We'll always be here for you Cat, don't ever forget that," Qamra pipes up from the corner where she's been hiding out.
"Thank you Qamra."
"Well, ok. One question down…a whole bunch to go," Irea continues, pretending to scratch off a question on an imaginary list.
"How long have you been having trouble with your empathy? At, least, it seems that's what's been bothering you."
"I don't really know…maybe a year? Actually I think it might have been happening before that. Ya. I think I've been having problems since after…since after Father died."
"Since after Father died? Are you sure? That was almost two years ago, Cat!" Helima says, shock evident in her voice.
"Or maybe it was because of Zero," Heero says in his usual monotone.
"No, I don't think so. I remember floating right after Father died," I say without thinking.
"Floating?"
"Umm…ya. That's what happens when I have an episode. I just call it floating for lack of a better term. Sometimes it's like having my empathy on overdrive and I can hear and feel everyone in the world. Sometimes it's memories, but they're all messed up somehow. Sometimes I can't even tell what's going on. It's like…it's like…." I keep making the same frantic swirling gesture with my hands. As though that's going to help me come up with what I need to say.
"What is it like, Quatre?" Irea asks, all concern now.
"I don't know. I keep thinking the same thing in my mind but it doesn't seem right."
"What?"
"I keep thinking it's like death," I say in a whisper.
Everyone goes still and even as I say it I know it's the right thing to say. Somewhere it strikes a chord of truth within me. It's like death.
My voice goes very quiet as I continue. "You know, all those times that I…was…killed…in the labs…I never remembered what happened while I was…not alive. Dr. Azrael was so angry. He couldn't understand how we couldn't remember anything."
"I never knew his name was Dr. Azrael," Irea says softly, trying not to break the mood.
"Yes. We were called Azrael's children. The others were named after the other groups they were in. I never knew the real name of the doctor that…experimented on me. He was always Dr. Azrael and we were always Azrael's children."
"How did you know that? I didn't think you were ever conscious when they took you out of the cells and brought you into the labs. At least, that's what the video footage showed," Irea continues, almost relentlessly. I can tell it's hard for her to say these things, but she's turned on her "doctor" mask and is saying everything in that clinical professional way she has.
"I wasn't ever conscious when I was taken out and actually injected. I wasn't conscious until I was returned to my cell…when my body started to die…that's when I was the most awake. But I could sense things. Maybe that's what I saw when I died. I could see the lab assistants and the scientists talking about the projects, could see them going about their routine even though I couldn't see out of the room where I was kept. Or maybe all of that was just a side effect of the drugs and not really what I saw at all."
"Quatre," Wufei begins with contemplative look on his face," Do you think that what you're seeing now when you 'float,' as you call it, could be what you saw when your body was dead and was just repressed by your mind because of all the stress you were under?"
"That's what I've been thinking, because honestly, I don't know what else it could be. The things I see…sometimes they're very bad."
"How many times a day do you have these episodes?" Irea has taken out a piece of paper and a pencil as is rapidly copying what I say.
"At first? Maybe once a month. Now…it's more like several times a day."
"Do you always remember what you think about during these episodes?"
"Not really. Most of the time I'm just left with the feel of it, no specifics to speak of."
Irea is lost in thought for a moment, the eraser on her pencil pressed into her chin.
"I wonder what could be causing these episodes. If they began after Father died and have been increasing in frequency and intensity…" She wanders off into her own thoughts, still mumbling.
"Do you know what's causing them Quatre?" Relena asks. It's the first time she's spoken in a while now.
"Honestly? No. I don't. I do have some theories though…"
"Like what?" Irea asks, snapping out of her ponderings.
"It's nothing definite, and I think I'm going to need some help figuring them out in the first place."
"Well, anything you need, we're here to help you with," Trowa says immediately.
"I think…I think it's time to get in touch with her again…she would be my only hope of figuring out what's going on," I say as I drift off into memory.
"Her who?"
"Why, the only other child of Azrael to survive, that's who."
"And as, in sparkling majesty, a star Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud:
Brightening the half-veil'd face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head." 1
Whoo, finally done with chapter 7! I hope that cleared a few things up. It would suck if this chapter only made things more confusing…but anyway. Big thanks to my reviewers for last chapter: Bibliomaniac, dark vampire, Mlaine xoxo. You guys always inspire me to blow off studying and write some more.
-NostalgieMalaak
1 from "To Hope" by John Keats