Night Wind
Part II – Let the Night Begin
Chapter Sixteen: Observations
Taki notices the way her husband pours his attention over the gobbledygook on the screen. She's mildly intrigued, of course, as she always is. But, the truth of the matter is that she does some of her finest figure-study works when the man is too engrossed to notice. In this way, Taki manages to acquire a perfectly still model who would normally be heaving impatient sighs or twitching convulsively after the first twenty minutes.
The especially fierce and piercing expression he's investing his energies in presently would make a perfect image for their doormat back home, she decides. Perhaps that damn nosy Mrs. I'm-Retired-With-a-Broken-Hearing-Aid would stop dropping by to foist loaves of lumpy zucchini bread upon them.
Bleh.
God forbid they ever leave their front door unlocked or else they might wake up to the horror of their front hall practically sandbagged with the vile stuff.
Apparently, there are some things in this world that even ketchup cannot make edible.
Taki shakes her head at that sad state of the world.
And while she's contemplating sad states, she makes a brief visit to her thoughts on Duo and Trowa. Taki, again, shakes her head. No amount of description can truly capture the stupidity of this situation. Obviously Duo and Trowa had been the ones to fuck up here. And obviously, Heero and Yokaze will come back when they damn well feel like it. Moping around is not going to help; it's only going to mess up her happy honeymoon.
But it's not as if she doesn't feel for the guys. And it's not as if she's not concerned. And it's not as if she hadn't had to deal with her own anger right after they'd left. It's just that with the Yuys, everything has to happen of its own accord. After all these years, Taki has finally found peace with this truism. Of course, that doesn't mean she's going to let either of them get off scot-free for this disappearing act. Oh, yes, a payback of sorts is surely required. But, by her calculations, she still has several days – perhaps even a week – before their return. Plenty enough time to design a doormat.
"Don't you have enough sketches of me?"
Taki looks up and blinks at her husband who is still glaring at the data in front of him. "What makes you think I'm drawing your arrogant ass?" It's best to nip this sort of egotistic behavior in the bud.
She watches him smirk. "So I suppose you're drawing the bookcase behind me?"
"Hey, it could happen."
He snorts.
"Are you ready to take a break and enjoy yourself for a whole minute yet?" she drawls.
His eyes narrow at the screen for a moment before he looks up with a hint of an apology in his expression.
Not waiting for him to make excuses, she demands the truth instead. "What has you so wound up over there, anyway?" The glare she unleashes is partly mocking. "You better not be reading porn, Chang."
He coughs out a soft laugh. "You should know better than to ask."
She merely arcs a brow at him. After a very long, heavy pause, she persists, "So what are you nearly growling at?"
And for the first time in her known memory, Wufei looks nervous. Oh, this is guaranteed to be good. "Well?" she demands.
"It's nothing..." he replies in a gruff voice.
Taki's eyes narrow as she gets the distinct impression that he'd deliberately left something off of the end of that sentence. Something like "... that I can tell you without having to kill you later."
"Wuffers..." she drawls.
He transfers his glower to her and replies flatly, "No."
"Not even a hint, my little love muffin?"
He stares at her with something like abject terror in his eyes before managing, "Absolutely not."
Taki rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. You realize I'll just sneak around behind your back and figure it out on my own anyway, pookie-wookie-snuggle-bear."
He actually fights back the shudder she can sense straining to get out. "You'd better not, Mrs. Chang."
Both her brows arc as that. "Oi, I sure as hell didn't hear of that 'love, honor, and obey' shit going on the other night so you can just fold that glare up and tuck it back in your pocket for when you go back to work." She grins suddenly and adds, "Schnookums."
His sigh is very martyred. "Just tell me what I have to bribe you with to get you to drop this."
Her expression is predatory. Bloodthirsty. "Only the truth will do, pumpkin."
For several seconds, he just stares unhappily at her. Then a certain twinkle enters his eyes and Taki knows he's about to try bargaining with her. Oh, no. So not going to happen. She hasn't had a challenge this good in years. The fact that he isn't even trying to be vague and evasive tells her he's far more preoccupied (translated: concerned) over what he's reading than normal.
"Don't even try to bargain for more time, sweetcakes," she declares, forestalling his next words. She sets her sketchbook aside and crosses the room to close the study door and lock it. Turning, she grins at the glare aimed in her direction. Wow, she can almost feel the ends of her hair crinkling in the heat.
"Taki, I cannot tell you."
"We're on our honeymoon," she counters and enjoys his guilty expression. "I will not allow you to be a chauvinistic, overprotective ass for another ten days." She strides purposefully over to the desk and leans toward him. "Spill."
He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Listen to me..."
She snorts.
His glare heats up. "I can't let you try to help me with this–"
"Who said anything about helping you?"
"Wasn't that going to be your next request?"
She pauses and considers that. "Well, maybe. Depends on what it is you're doing in the first place."
The stubborn ass shakes his head. "No. Just–"
"Two words, Chang," she interrupts hotly. "Spousal privilege."
He actually blinks at her.
"Universal law," she reminds him.
He hesitates, wavers.
"Your felony is my felony."
Wufei stares at her in surprise.
Taki grins, very satisfied with herself that she'd guessed right. "So, what's going on?"
Her husband releases a long sigh composed of equal parts defeat and amusement. "Pushy wench," he accuses her and Taki knows she's won. Making herself comfortable on the top of the desk, she leans toward him and – for once – patiently waits for an explanation.
...ooo...
"Are those your world-famous sugar cookies I smell?"
The sheriff notices that neither Fiero nor Ossia look up at her entrance into their grandparents' kitchen.
"If you'll help Fiero frost them, you can take a few home with you," the elderly lady promises from where she stands up to her elbows in soapy dish-water.
Almost before she'd finished speaking, the sheriff had started rolling up the sleeves on her uniform. "Beats washing and drying!" she replies happily before wondering out loud as she surveys ground zero, "How does someone so short manage to make such a huge mess?"
In unison, Ossia and Fiero snort once in shared amusement.
Glancing across the room at the kitchen table where Ossia is staring at an antique chessboard, the sheriff asks, "Hey, Oss, aren't you going to help us?"
The old man seated across from her waves a hand at the blond woman. "Hush, you! I've just gotten her to agree to play a game with me and I won't have you distracting her!"
"I didn't know you played chess," she observes but he's too busy studying the board to bother with a reply.
His wife answers, "It's been years since he's bothered." And the sheriff's slight surprise, the old woman chuckles. "Oh, I'm no match for him, dear. None at all."
The sheriff's brows arc.
"He used to compete," the old woman confides with an endearing note of pride in her voice. "Won first place in the Southern France Regionals back in '54."
"I'm impressed." The sheriff quickly washes her hands and reaches for a dish towel. She finally seems to notice how quiet the siblings are and nudges the shoulder of her childhood friend. "Yo, Fiero. Join the party and stop glaring at the frosting bowl."
He blinks, refocusing on the task before him, but says softly, "The bishop."
From the kitchen table, his elder sister replies equally softly, "It's an acceptable risk."
The sheriff frowns at this by-play. Fiero stiffens slightly as the sheriff looks from him to his sister and back again. He does not offer an explanation. He dips the spreading knife into the bowl of powder-blue frosting and begins to paint yet another perfect circle.
"So," the sheriff says a little too lightly, "what did you guys do today? Besides make cookies, anyway."
"Oh! Ossia and Fiero have been so helpful," their grandmother praises. "You know the door to the upstairs bathroom that takes an extra push to get it to shut?"
The sheriff nods as the old woman lists a rather eclectic assortment of odd jobs that their grandchildren had addressed earlier: adjusting the temperature on the hot water heater, reconnecting the wires to a ceiling fan that hadn't worked in years, reinforcing an old rocking chair in the parlor... Once again, the sheriff looks from the brother to the sister and back again. But she does not comment. She asks instead, "You play chess, too, Fiero?"
He nods once.
Unable to be satisfied with that meager response, she persists, "You ever play Ossia?"
One corner of his mouth twitches into an almost imperceptible expression of fondness. "Of course."
She arcs a brow at him. "Ever win?"
"Not lately," his sister replies for him from across the room.
"Is this true?" the sheriff inquires with a teasing grin.
He grunts softly in reply.
"I find it hard to believe as well," the old woman says with a smile. "He is, after all, the great-grandson of a Japan Regional Shogi champion. He should have an equal chance as Ossia as winning..."
"Shogi?" the sheriff echoes with curiosity.
"The Japanese equivalent of chess," the old man says. The sheriff has to smile at the evidence that despite his initial protests of distractions, he can't help contributing to the discussion.
His wife props her fists on her hips and scolds gamely, "For shame! So simple a definition for such a complex game of strategy! If Kiyoshi could hear you say that he'd sic his wife on you!"
"Eh?" the sheriff asks. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her old friend is equally interested in the direction this conversation is taking.
"Kiyoshi and Rie Mori," the elderly woman continues, "were Benjiro's paternal grandparents. From what I understood, they ended up raising him. Kiyoshi was an actual Master of Shogi and his wife, Rie, was a very sought-after instructor of swordsmanship, wasn't she, dear?"
"Mm," the old man mutters.
"Taught Ben everything he knew about strategy and fighting. He was accepted at one of the Alliance's most prestigious academies. Kiyoshi and Rie were so proud of him..."
The sheriff cocks her head to one side and inquires, "So, if Ben was in the military, how in the world did he meet Leise?"
The old man chuckles, reintroducing himself to the discussion. "Would you believe Leise's friends won him for her in an auction?"
"What?" the sheriff gasps, doubting his sincerity.
"Oh, it's true, dear," his wife assures her. "Ben had always been a good sport when it came to volunteering his services to the community and whatnot. Right after he'd been stationed in Marseilles, he was asked to participate in a charity auction. The proceeds were to go to the local orphanage. And... well, you can imagine how he must have felt about that, what with his own parents gone. But he was fresh out of the academy and didn't have a thing to donate except, well, himself.
"Leise's best friend was on the charity committee that organized the whole thing and she dragged Leise away from her double bass for the evening. And when Leise's friends saw Ben, they decided she needed an actual night out with a young man, so they bought him."
"Almost lost the bidding, too," the old man interjects. "Ben had been five credits away from spending an evening with the mayor's mother-in-law..." He shudders dramatically.
His wife laughs. "Oh, yes! I'd almost forgotten that!" She grins and shakes her head. "Oh, dear, when I heard Ben tell me about that woman I almost peed my pants I laughed so hard."
The sheriff gasps again. "Listen to you!"
"Well, you would have felt the same," the old woman promises. "There was nothing and no one funnier than Ben when he set his mind to telling a story."
Into this invisible conversation crossroads, Ben's son asks, "So our mother was a musician?"
"Indeed she was," the old man replies. His light tone is at odds with his dark scowl as he studies his granddaughter's latest move. "Won a full scholarship to the Music Conservatory of Nice. Wrote and performed her own music, too."
"And she played the bass," the young man whispers so softly the sheriff almost doesn't hear it. She wonders what special significance their mother's preferred instrument holds for him. She's debating asking him about it when he suddenly flips the knife in his hand into the sink.
"Finished," he announces before turning toward the kitchen table.
"Thank you, Fiero," their grandmother says, not finding it remotely odd that the young man pulls one of the chairs around so that he can sit directly beside his sister. "Why don't you wrap up a few of those to take with you, dear?"
The sheriff comes back to the present with a small, guilty start. "Thanks. Can I use tin foil? That way if my brothers see me with it, I can tell them it's only a plate of stale donuts or something?"
The old woman laughs. At the table, her husband smiles. But the sheriff is watching the siblings and noticing how they seem to be quite content in their own, eerily silent, little worlds.
End of Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Notes: I've decided to go ahead and include this name list. Just a little FYI.
Mori: (MOR-ee) surname; Japanese origin; literally translates to "forest"
Kiyoshi: (Key-YO-she) male first name; Japanese origin; means "quiet"
Rie: (RE-ay) female first name; Japanese origin; (I couldn't find the meaning)
Benjiro: (Ben-GEE-roh) male first name; Japanese origin; meaning "peaceful" or "enjoy peace"
Leise: (LEEz) a German musical term meaning "soft"
Ossia: (Oh-SEE-ah) an Italian musical term indicating an alternative passage or verse
Fiero: (Fee-AIR-oh) an Italian musical term meaning "bold"
