To DragonFlame Mistress- Is the pairing really that odd? I don't know why; they make a cute couple. And my stupid muse abandoned me. Tim McGraw is my inspiration for now, until something better comes along.
Chapter Four- Rediscovery
"Well, that's certainly odd." Quatre said thoughtfully. "Maybe we knew each other in a past life or something."
"There's no such thing as reincarnation." Heero said in the flat voice of a true disbeliever.
"Can you think of a better explanation?" Quatre countered, flipping back through his sketchbook for all the pictures he'd drawn of his dream man. "It's not as if people randomly dream about someone they've never met before all the time, you know."
Heero couldn't help it; the other boy had spoken so calmly, as if commenting on the weather, that he found it hilariously funny. He burst out laughing, something he didn't do often.
"What's so funny?" Quatre asked, blinking cluelessly, which only served to redouble Heero's mirth. "Seriously, what are you laughing at? What did I say?"
"You… you…" Heero gasped out helplessly, holding his side. "You… how… how can you… say that… with a straight… a straight face?" He managed finally.
"Say what with a- oh!" Understanding dawned on Quatre's face, then his expression became stern, tender, and exasperated all at once. "It's not that funny, Heero Yuy!" He exclaimed, mock-punching Heero in the shoulder before giving in to laughter himself.
Neither noticed the name Quatre had called his new friend; either didn't notice, or on some primal level accepted it as the truth. Whichever it was, the moment swallowed it and neither could recall exactly what had been said in later years.
A Few Hours Later
"Hey, call me, okay?" Quatre called from the open window of the car as it pulled away from Heero's small shack, waving through the rear windshield until his new friend disappeared from sight.
"Quatre." His mother said, calling her son's attention to her. Belinda Winner Adams was a harried blond woman who looked ten years older than she actually was, with dull green eyes and a delicate brow etched with faint worry lines. She was overprotective of her only child, and did her best to raise him properly.
"Yes, Mother?" Quatre asked, frowning a little at the slight edge of steel in his mother's usually gentle voice.
"Did you give that boy your number?"
"Yes, Mother." Quatre answered dutifully, wondering why she sounded so harsh. "My private line."
"I don't want you associating with that boy, am I understood?" Belinda said flatly, staring straight ahead. "He's no good for you."
"W-what?" Quatre asked, sure he must have misheard. Belinda encouraged him to make friends from all over Earth and the colonies; she was always telling him that being around boys his own age was much better for him than spending time with his uncles. Surely she couldn't be denying him the friend she wanted him so desperately to have!
"Stay away from him, Quatre." She warned, the edge of steel sharpening. "He'll ruin you exactly the way the other one ruined your uncle. I saw it in his eyes; make no mistake, he'll use you, then leave you high and dry. As the next head of the Winner Corporation, you can't be influenced by street rats like that." Belinda's hands gripped the edge of her purse so hard, the bones showed yellow through her flawless tan.
"But Mother-" Quatre started, but she interrupted him.
"Don't argue with me, young man!" She yelled, raising her hand to strike him. "I'll not have you turning disobedient and rash like your uncle!"
Quatre wanted to protest, but wisely kept to himself, staring moodily out the window the rest of the ride back to the hotel.
Two Days Later
Heero's phone rang, startling him into nearly dropping the kettle of hot water in his hand. No one ever called him; the only person who had his number was Quatre, and his mother had made it plain yesterday that the two were never going to speak again.
The small brunette reached over and flicked the screen on with his free hand, resuming his interrupted act of making tea.
"Hello?" He asked, not risking a glance over his shoulder while filling the mug on the counter.
"Heero? It's me, Quatre."
Heero almost dropped the kettle again and succeeded in knocking over his mug in the process of turning around.
"Quatre? Why are you calling me?"
"If this is about what my mother told you, just ignore her. Aunt Emily understands; she says we can use her phone to talk. My mother's changed my private line and blocked your number, but Aunt Emily's older, so she won't dare tell her what to do. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Heero said, looking down at the puddle of water on the counter and floor. "I just upended my cup is all."
"Oh. Was it my fault? Sorry."
Before Heero could reply, a middle-aged brunette with short, shaggy hair and sparkling green eyes appeared behind Quatre, draping her arms over his shoulders.
"Is that him?" She asked cheerfully, smiling. "He's cute! Are you sure he's only fourteen? No chance he's older?"
"He's really fourteen, Aunt Emily." Quatre said with a small sigh. "Aunt Emily, I'd like you to meet Heero Ookami. Heero, this is my Aunt Emily."
"Hi, cutie!" Emily said, her smile widening into a grin. "Even if you are fourteen, I don't mind younger men! Come keep me company in my old age!" A clock chimed in the background, and Emily stood up, waving to the screen. "That's my cue. Time for me to go to work, boys. Don't stay on too long!"
Heero managed to keep from laughing until after the door had slammed behind Emily, not wanting to offend the woman.
"She's an… interesting woman." He said.
"Interesting is putting it mildly." Quatre replied, smiling. "We call her eccentric, but she's really just crazy. She's also married, so don't worry about her going to Earth and kidnapping you. Uncle Trowa won't let her."
"That's surprisingly comforting, considering I've never met this uncle of yours." Heero commented, taking a sip of his tea. "Although the name sounds oddly familiar."
"Uncle Trowa's nice; he'll keep Aunt Emily off you. And speaking of which," Quatre added, looking beyond the comm. screen. "Uncle Trowa, I'd like you to meet someone!"
A tall, thin man with medium brown hair swept over one emerald eye walked into view, a coffee mug in one hand and a book in the other.
"Finally making some friends?" The man asked with the barest hint of a small before turning to the screen.
"Heero…" Trowa gasped softly, staring transfixed at the ghost on the comm. screen in front of him. He didn't even blink when the mug of coffee he'd been holding smashed into the floor and shattered.
It's not possible! His mind screamed at him. Heero Yuy is dead! He can't be talking to Quatre! It's impossible!
"How did you know my name?" The boy demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Uncle Trowa, are you all right?" Quatre asked at the same time, jumping to his feet.
"I… I'm fine," Trowa managed, sounding shaky even to his own ears. "I have to call Duo. You two have fun."
The former Heavyarms pilot managed to make it to the room he shared with his wife without hurting himself and immediately grabbed his portable comm., which was programmed with Duo Maxwell's private number; a good thing, since Trowa doubted he was capable of punching in a number right now.
"Yello?" A sleepy voice asked around a huge yawn. "Maxwell/Chang residence, this is Duo speaking, how can I help you?"
"Duo, sit up." Trowa ordered. Instead, Wufei appeared in the comm. screen view, scowling at something on the floor. "Okay, Wufei works. You won't believe what I just saw."
"Oh, really?" Wufei countered, still scowling at the floor, where Duo had probably already gone back to sleep.
"Our nephew just introduced me to Heero."
Sorry about this taking so long, but I totally ran dry on inspiration for this story! Please don't kill me!