Disclaimer—I own nothing.
A/N 1 Wufei and Nataku—"Budu saranai" is a Buddhist holiday greeting meaning "May the serenity of Buddha be yours."
A/N 2 Hilde and Davida—The shammus ("servant") candle lights all the rest of the Hanukkah candles. The blessings over candles all start with "Blessed are you, Lord, our God, king of the universe", and they translate into "…who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to light the candles of Hanukkah", "…who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days and at this time", and "…who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season." "Amein" is more commonly know as "Amen", which means, "It is so." The song Davida sings is called Maoz Tzur ("Rocky Fortress") and it translates into "Rocky Fortress of my Salvation/It is delightful to praise You/Restore my House of Prayer/And there we will give thanks with an offering/When you have prepared the slaughter/For the blaspheming foe/Then I will complete with a song of hymn/The dedication of the altar/Then I will complete with a song of hymn/The dedication of the altar."
December 8th, 2004 Part I
12: 38 AM—FRIENDLY'S PARKING LOT
Middie stepped outside the restaurant and into the cold December early morning, breathing a large sigh. She had spent the batter part of an hour and a half getting acquainted with this group of friends, and learning what seemed like everything about them. They were all from different countries, and some of them had siblings or stepparents or adoptive parents or grandparents. They shared most of the same classes but varied as to what they wanted to do in life—soldiers, politician, mechanic, journalist, business-or-charity manager, cops, engineer, psychologist, not-quite-sure. The conversation and the mood thereof could change on a dime.
She had never been part of a group like this. The people she worked with were either silent or sarcastic, too involved in their work to care that there were other sentient beings around them. Even Wufei and Nataku, whose attitudes towards each other had not altered at all over the course of the night, seemed to care that the other was there. Middie could not help noticing they were like two peas in a pod, as new as she was to knowing them.
The group had decided to walk home instead of making Relena drive them all. The town was split into four provinces, each a small town onto itself, and the group knew its way around.
"Middie, do you live on Youngston Avenue?"
Middie turned around to see Dorothy standing behind her. "Oh, yeah, I do."
"Then you are the family that moved in the other day," Dorothy said, snapping her fingers. "I live about four houses down from you, I saw your moving van."
"Oh, that's cool. Why'd you ask?"
"Because you don't look like the type that likes walking around at night, so I wanted to know the possibility of you walking home with someone. Since it happens to be me, I can guarantee your safety."
"How's that?"
"Let's just say my grandfather has lots of influence in this area—actually, he has lots of influence everywhere."
"Who's your grandfather?"
"Duke Dermail," Dorothy answered breezily. "He practically owns half the world, so I'm safe. No one tries to kidnap me unless they have a death wish."
"Your grandfather sounds scary," Middie said, not realizing that they had already started walking until Dorothy turned her head and waved. Middie did the same. "No offense, I mean."
"He's nice to me. I'm about the only person he's nice to, since most of our family is dead or disowned."
"Why?" Middie asked, without thinking.
"Curious, aren't you?" Dorothy said with a smirk.
"Oh…you don't have to…"
Dorothy shrugged. "It makes no difference to me. My grandfather is from England, and he moved to France and married a woman named Deja. She had two girls: my mother, Marguerite, and my aunt, Noémi. My mother married José Catalonia, a Spanish man, which is why I have an English first name and a Spanish last name. But my aunt Noémi ran off with an Indian—as in India, not America—and had my cousin Treize."
"Wait a minute. Treize…that's—"
"Your cousin's fiancée, yes, I know," Dorothy said, nodding. "So you and I are going to be cousins-in-law. Anyway, my parents died when I was thirteen—"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Middie interrupted.
Dorothy shook her head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. And I'm fine, I can talk about it. It's been four years."
"My mom died when I was nine, and I'm still not over it," Middie said quietly.
"Different strokes," Dorothy said. "Anyway, my grandfather moved me over here. My aunt's family followed. Grandfather doesn't speak to them, because A—my aunt got married without his permission, and B—she married a non-European and had a child with him. He doesn't recognize Treize as his grandson. Treize and I are pretty close, though—they used to come over when Grandfather was away on business."
"Oh…that's pretty…descriptive."
Dorothy shrugged again. "It's the truth. I used to lie a lot—defense mechanism. Now I just tell it like it is. Like earlier, when I told you I was studying you. I didn't tell Relena when I was studying her."
"What were you studying her about?"
"Her views on the war," was Dorothy's short reply. "Grandfather asked me to spy on her, since she's practically an extension of her dad. It was politics."
"But you're still friends with her," Middie said questioningly.
"Relena forgave me. She's like that."
Middie bit her lower lip and looked away. "I wish Trowa…was like Relena. That he could be friends with me again."
"Trowa's strange," Dorothy said matter-of-factly. "He'll forgive you, but it's difficult for him to trust you if you've betrayed him. I think the only person he'd forgive for anything would be Quatre."
"Why Quatre!" Middie snarled, almost viciously, completely despairingly. "Just…why?"
Dorothy paused and thought. "That's just the kind of person Quatre is. Trowa completely trusts Quatre because you can trust Quatre. I think Quatre was the first to reach out to Trowa when we all met. Since Trowa didn't have any family back then, he just latched onto Quatre."
"Do you…do you really think Trowa loves Quatre…like a boyfriend?"
"Yes, actually, I do. Since Quatre is the one Trowa trusts most, it wouldn't be a surprise if Trowa fell for Quatre. And it's quite obvious to everyone in our group except Trowa that Quatre likes him."
"Trowa knows," Middie said limply. "He told me earlier tonight. He just doesn't want anyone to find out."
"Yeah, that might cause a problem for Quatre, wouldn't it? Can we say "queer-bash"?" Dorothy and Middie turned a corner. "Bet that makes you insanely jealous."
Middie flushed. "I'm not insanely jealous. I just…"
"Just wish Trowa would think about your safety in the same way?"
Middie stopped and stared at Dorothy. "How'd you know about that?"
"I'm not dumb, Middie. That scene in the cafeteria today is pretty suggestive. Add that up to the facts that Trowa is inexplicably angry at you, you smoke, you evade questions and when you answer them you're lying…"
"I haven't lied to you guys at all!" Middie snapped angrily.
"Or you're lying by omission," Dorothy continued as if uninterrupted, still walking.
"I can't believe you!" Middie yelled, running after her. "Who do you think you are?"
"I think I'm Dorothy Catalonia."
Middie stopped short. She made a disbelieving, incredulous noise in her throat.
"Weren't expecting that, now were you?" Dorothy said, raising her eyebrow. "Didn't I tell you I'm brutally honest?"
"Yeah…you did," Middie said, and a small laugh escaped from her mouth. "Relena's right—it's hard to stay mad at you."
"You have a pretty good memory," Dorothy established, almost a compliment, almost a simple statement.
"Y'know what else you told me earlier? That I was interesting. You sure that wasn't a come-on?"
"Oh, yeah," Dorothy said, lightly shrugging. "I'm not interested in anyone. I'm essentially non."
""Non" what?" Middie asked, confused.
"Nonsexual," Dorothy explained. "Psyche-Major me figured out there are seven specific types of sexuality: Gay, Straight, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, and Nonsexual. GSLBTQN."
"And what's "nonsexual" mean?"
"It can mean a few things, but I'm talking about not being particularly attracted to either sex. It's like Bisexual in reverse. I can look at a boy and say "he's hot" and then apply the same compliment to a girl, but I don't necessarily feel any real passion for either of them."
"So, if you see a hot boy or girl, you won't flirt with them?"
"Oh, I'll flirt. Flirting is very enjoyable. But I won't seriously hit on someone just because they're a hot boy or girl."
"Are you a heartbreaker?" Middie asked, smiling.
"No, because everyone knows I'm not interested. I've flirted with both Heero and Relena before, and nothing has changed. Mainly because Heero's stick is lodged firmly in his a—s and Relena wouldn't notice a come-on unless it cam from said anal-retentive Japanese man."
Middie laughed, the first full-blown laughter Dorothy had heard from her all day. Tears started in Middie's ocean-blue eyes as she covered her mouth with her hands and hyperventilated.
"I'm glad my honesty is hilarious to you, but it wasn't that funny," Dorothy said flatly.
"Oh God, it's just the way you said it…so straightforward like that…" Middie wiped her eyes and could not prevent fit of giggles.
"Maybe I should be the next Ron White," Dorothy mused.
Middie sighed loudly to end her last fit of giggles. "So, you'll never date anyone?"
"Oh, I'll date if I like somebody," Dorothy said airily. "I'd rather be friends first. We can save passion for later."
"In Trowa's case, passion comes never…at least not with me," Middie said bitterly.
"Maybe with Quatre…"
"Dorothy?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
"This is our street, anyway," Dorothy said, pointing to the green, rectangular sign on a post, reading in blaringly bold white letters, "YOUNGSTON AVE". "You're 104, right?"
"Yeah, you?"
"96. We'll get to your house first, this isn't my end."
"Yeah." Middie glanced down the street.
"And the uncomfortable part of the evening begins," Dorothy commented. "Feels like the end of a date, huh?"
"But you said…yeah, it does," Middie said, deciding not to argue. As much as she liked to hear Dorothy talking, she did not have the energy for it.
"Are you coming to the Service Club meeting?" Dorothy asked.
"Oh, maybe," Middie said. They had been speaking of the community service club in the restaurant.
"It's at school at one," Dorothy said. "You should come."
"I'll think about it. Here, this is my house." Middie stopped.
"Nice house," Dorothy complimented. Middie's house was two floors with an attic, painted white with black shutters and red trim. White curtains hung in the window, even in the attic, and a wooden porch sporting a bright lamp and a swing sat proudly before the door. A brick path led to the stairs. "It looks expensive."
"We have a lot of money," Middie answered, and Dorothy could not help but notice that Middie looked extremely miserable when she said that.
"Okay, this is the end of our psuedo-date," Dorothy said slowly, deciding against pressing Middie for an explanation. "Feel like doing the awkward kiss?"
"Um…not…really."
"All right then." Dorothy leaned over and pecked Middie's cheek imperceptibly. "Consider that the extent of my flirtatious advances."
"I…will?" Middie looked bewildered.
"Oh, wait. Give me your hand."
"Is that a lesbian marriage proposal?" Middie gave a wrinkled smile to show she was jesting.
"No, it's a telephone number offering." Dorothy drew a pen from her pocket and scribbled down seven digits on the back of Middie's hand. "Call me before Service Club."
"Sure." Middie dropped her arm. "See you tomorrow.'
"Ditto."
Dorothy turned and walked down the brick path, feeling herself disappear from the soft, yellow-white light cast by the porch lamp and into the darkness. She noticed things like that; she had the mind of an author on a philosophy kick. It was fun to think creatively like she did, especially in a house with a grandfather whose every thought was practical. And illegal, but that was beside the point.
There were a few cars sitting by the sidewalk in front of her house. Really, could they be more conspicuous and stereotypical? Dorothy figured she should paint them pink just to put the typecasting out of its misery.
The jingling of keys and the lock turning caused a small lull in the conversation, which Dorothy exploited by taking the opportunity to say a room-filling "Good-night" with an ostentatious yet small curtsy. As she rounded the stairs, she heard snatches of the conversation.
"Akito, that meeting has been set up, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," replied an English-speaking Japanese accent. "Best part is, it's practically in my kid's backyard and he doesn't have a clue. Just like his mother…"
Their voices faded away as Dorothy ascended the stairs and turned into the hallway. Her room was the first on the right, and she entered it, shutting and locking the door behind her. With the agile silence of an alley cat, she tiptoed forward and dropped to the floor above the old-fashioned vent through which she could see and hear everything on the living room below. She was pretty sure the invasion of privacy laws did not apply to illegal activities.
12: 54 AM—SOUTHERN HIGH SCHOOL PARKING LOT
"Okay, so I'm driving back," Nataku announced. "Fork over them keys."
"Excuse me? I'm driving back," Wufei replied snottily.
"I saw you march out of step in the third number," Nataku shot at him.
"That means you turned your head to look, therefore your run-through was not perfect, since we're not supposed to look at other people."
"Fine, whatever. So, who's driving?" Nataku put forward.
"Since it was a tie, I claim ownership rights," Wufei said authoritatively.
"Oh, come on. You drove here. Let me drive back."
"Nope, sorry, can't help you there," Wufei said, smirking. "Passenger seat for you."
"You can be a real butt-munch, you know that?" Nataku retorted.
Wufei rolled his eyes as he entered the driver's seat, and then leaned over and unlocked her door. She stepped in and slammed the door a little more vehemently than she normally would.
"You'll break the windows," Wufei commented, putting the keys in the ignition.
A throaty snort was his answer, and he put the car in reverse to back out of the parking space. Nataku propped her elbow on the windowsill and rested her chin on her fist, staring out the window.
"You know, Wufei, I was thinking," Nataku started, taking a deep breath. It was pretty much now or never, before she forgot or lost the opportunity.
"That's new."
"That's what I was thinking about," Nataku said swiftly.
"That you rarely think?"
"No, you moron!" Nataku yelled, her temper flaring. "Us! I was thinking about us!"
"Meilan, there is no "us"," Wufei said incredulously. "I thought that was the one thing we agreed on."
"See, that's just the thing. We agree on a lot of things. Look at our career paths; we'll probably be partners on the police force, for God's sake. We hate the same things, we like the same things. We've known each other since we were babies. We live next door to each other. Our rooms are the freakin' same shade of red. There's an "us", Wufei. It's a screwed-up "us", but we're there just the same."
Wufei was silent, his eyes fixed on the road before them.
"Well?" Nataku prodded, her blood flaring. "Got any smart-alec answer for me?"
"Meilan, listen to me closely. There…is…no…"us"."
Nataku felt all the blood in her system fly to her chest and then her intestines. "F-Fine! I shoulda known you wouldn't give me any good answer! Frig it. Forget I said anything." Her head snapped around and she stared at her side window, her fist clenching and unclenching against the door.
Wufei drove forward in silence for a few minutes. Why was she pulling this now? For the longest time, Meilan was the one who insisted that their marriage was a mistake. She had been even more vehement than him that any relationship they had would end in, as she put it, "adultery, polygamy, and divorce". In the beginning, he had even been indifferent to the idea, but her persistence in asserting the horrible fate of their imminent marriage had set him into fighting it—and her—while matching her strength of will. And now she was talking as if there was something between them?
"Meilan."
"What!" she flung at him like a knife.
"Fine, we'll talk this out rationally." He slowed down the car, and then veered off the lane, coming to park against a sidewalk in front of a small restaurant.
"Just forget it, Wufei," Nataku said acidly.
"No. You brought it up, so we're going to talk about it. Consider it training for married life." He put on the emergency brake. "Now, what's this stuff about there being an "us"?"
Nataku looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Wow. You're serious about talking."
"Am I the joking type?" Wufei asked shortly. "Now, explain yourself."
"What I meant was," Nataku started slowly, "is that we've been stuck together most of our lives. And we know pretty much everything about each other. Look at our similarities—you like red, I like red. I hate sap, you hate sap. We both teach martial arts. We live next door to each other. We have the same group of friends. We're both in the band. We're both in Community Service Club."
"What are you saying, Meilan? Do you want to get married now?"
"No!" Nataku said vehemently. "What I'm saying is maybe we should stop getting into stupid arguments about stupid stuff."
"Redundant, much?"
"Like that! You know that'll tick me off but you say it anyway."
"Pot? Kettle?"
"Yeah, I know, okay? I do the exact same thing. And I'm saying we should stop it."
"And if I don't want to stop it?" Wufei asked, not snottily, but sounding genuinely curious.
"Than we act just like we were before. And have a miserable marriage."
"Hm." Wufei sat for a moment, and then slowly reached for the keys in the ignition.
"Well?"
"I want to think about it."
"Think about what? I'm saying we have to lose our little stupid fight thing. What part about that requires thinking?"
"Letting them win."
"Letting who wi—…Grandfather and Master O?"
"Exactly. I'm still pressing for them giving up when they realize how badly we get along together."
"And if we start acting like friends now, they'll be even more for it."
"Glad to see the light bulb was on, Meilan."
"You just don't know when to stop, do you?"
"Could say the same about you." His hand reached the keys and turned on the car. "So, I'll think about it."
As Wufei pulled out of his parking space, Nataku began fiddling with the radio. "There won't be anything good on. Just overly cheery holiday music."
"Speaking of, you know what we forgot?"
"What?"
"Tomorrow is Bodhi Day."
"Oh, it is, isn't it?" Nataku replied, still toying with the radio stations. "Technically, it's already December 8th." She pointed to the clock, which now read 1: 06. "Budu saranai. I think it'll just be us at the Temple. Grandfather is getting old; he doesn't like going outside the house. And your uncle's a Sikh."
"Yeah. Just us."
"Oh, of course I had to come in right in the middle of the song!" Nataku moaned suddenly. "Such a good song."
"Which one?"
""With Or Without You"," Nataku said, before entering totally into the stream of the song. "My hands are tied; my body bruised. She's got me with nothing to win and nothing left to lose. And you give yourself away…and you give yourself away…and you give…and you give…and you give yourself away. Without or without you…with or without you, oh-oh…I can't live…with or without you."
Wufei chewed on the tissue of his inner cheek and glanced over at Nataku, who seemed entirely lost in the music. She had a point…U2 did have a song for every occasion.
1: 10 AM—MAXWELL CHURCH
"We're back."
"Oh, Duo, we were starting to get worried." Sister Helen started from her chair. Part of the Maxwell Church had been converted into a living space for the Maxwell family, as their salary did not permit the luxury of buying their own.
"There were no problems during or after the game," Hilde said. "No one even looked at me funny."
"Thank God," Davida said, clasping her hand to her chest, her eyes shining with grateful, unshed tears.
"Mom, did the vet call?" Hilde asked anxiously.
"Yes," Davida said. "Annie's…she's stabilized. They say it's a miracle she's alive."
"Which means she could die any moment," Hilde finished downheartedly.
"Sweetie…" Davida reached forward and grabbed Hilde's hand. "Just pray for the best."
"Yeah," Hilde said shortly, trying to force down the lump in her throat. Duo took her free hand and squeezed it. Davida noticed and smiled.
"Duo, your family has been so good to us today."
"Oh, it was nothing," Sister Helen insisted.
"They have to be, it's in their job description," Duo said jovially. "Sister, where's Father?"
"He and Hilde's father went out to the Temple a few hours ago. Rabbi Shbeiker wanted to go alone, but Father wouldn't let him."
"That's Father for you," Duo said, giving a little half-smile of pride. It was so typical of his surrogate father to look after people. It wasn't every person who took in a dirty, foul-tempered street punk who was possibly HIV-infected off the streets and raised him as his own son.
"Oh, Hilde, Noin—it's so odd to call my own niece that—said she talked to you?"
"Yes, I saw her during and right after the game. She asked me to be her maid-of-honor. We're going dress-shopping next Sunday."
"I can't believe my niece is getting married. I just wonder if Mama and Papa will…" Davida trailed off. Her thoughts traveled back to her brother's wedding; her parents had not condescended to attend. Her brother had been beyond hurt, and his brave face in light of his bride's parents both being there had been physically painful for her to watch. "Probably not."
"Will Dad be back soon?" Hilde asked, in an effort to avert any negative thoughts towards her cousin's wedding.
"Oh, I don't know," Davida said. "I think your dad wants to stay there for awhile…find some peace, you know."
"Guess so. Oh, that reminds me…did you light any candles at all? Say the blessings?"
"Your father probably did so at the Temple," Davida said. "Sister Helen provided some candles, but I haven't lit them. That's your job."
"Yeah, I know. Let's start now, I really have to hit the hay."
Davida gestured into the small dining room where church candles had been set up. There were nine of them, complete with the middle one being taller than all the others. A packet of matches lay before them.
"Wow, you've really gone all out for us," Hilde said, looking at them and then at Sister Helen. "You even got the shammus candle."
"Like Duo said, it's in the job description," Sister Helen said, smiling teasingly.
Hilde laughed and walked past the table, toward the sink. "I should at least wash my hands." She turned on the faucet and rubbed her hands together, saying a few words in Hebrew as she did. She turned off the faucet, rubbed her hands dry with a towel hanging off the counter, and turned back to face the others.
"I'm gonna say them in Hebrew, so if you're confused, Duo…it'll be something for me to make fun of you with later."
"I have such a nice, loving girlfriend," Duo said, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.
Hilde punched him in the arm and then reached for the matchbox. She tore a match out and lit it against the packet. She leaned over the table, took the largest candle, and lit the stem. She moved her hands to the lowest part of the candle she could to avoid dripping wax or burning her hand.
"Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheynu, melech ha-olam asher keedishanu b'meetzvotav v'tzeevanu l'had'lik neir shel Chanukkah," Hilde recited.
"Amein," Davida said with her.
"Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheynu, melech ha-olam she-asah neeseem la-avotaynu ba-yameem ha-heim ba-z'man ha-zeh," Hilde continued.
"Amein," Davida and Hilde repeated.
"Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheynu, melech ha-olam she-hecheeyanu v'keey'manu v'heegeeyanu la-z'man ha-zeh," Hilde concluded.
"Amein."
Hilde leaned over the table again and lit the candle on the furthest right.
"These should stay on for a half hour," Hilde informed Sister Helen. When she nodded, Hilde turned back to her mother. "Mom?"
Davida nodded, and her voice suddenly turned from a speaking tone to a singing one. "Ma'oz tzur y'shuati. L'kha na-eh l'shabei-ach. Tikon beyt t'filati. V'sham todah n'zabei-ach. L'eit tachin matbei-ach. Mitzar ha-m'nabei-ach. Az egmor b'shir mizmor. Chanukat ha-mizbei-ach. Az egmor b'shir mizmor. Chanukat ha-mizbei-ach."
"Amein," Hilde said, and then stifled a yawn. "Duo, we should hit the sack."
"Yeah, don't wanna sleep through the meeting now, do we?" Duo replied, giving Hilde a wrinkled smile.
"Hilde, we don't have any extra beds," Sister Helen said, "but I set up a pew with a pillow and blanket. The seats are actually quite comfortable."
"Thanks," Hilde said. "Did anyone happen to bring my pajamas?"
"Oh, no, Hilde," Davida said hesitantly. "There…there aren't any left. Everything was destroyed."
Hilde's face remained blank
"You can borrow some of my sweats," Duo offered.
"We'll get you some clothes tomorrow, Hilde, before your meeting," Davida said. "For now, just take up Duo's offer."
"C'mon," Duo said, grabbing hold of Hilde's hand and pulling her away, out of the kitchen and into a hallway, leading her down to his room. Said room was relatively bare, though the bright red shade of paint on the walls and the dark violet furniture rendered decorations inconsequential. The room was interesting enough in and of itself.
"How do you not go blind in this room?" Hilde asked, forever in amazement of the color scheme.
"I know, it's like a bad Acid trip, isn't it?" Duo said, grinning as he pulled a black T-shirt and a pair of brown sweats out of his dresser. "Sister Helen nearly fainted when she saw what I did with it. She wouldn't let me back in the Home Depot for a month afterwards. Here."
He tossed the clothes over to Hilde, who disappeared into the hallway and into the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, her bundle of clothes wrapped up in her hands. She dumped them on the floor in a heap, and then reached out for Duo's hand. He took it and squeezed it, and then she pecked his cheek, turned, and left the room.
Several hours later her eyes slightly parted groggily. From where she was lying on the pew she had the distinct feeling that someone was in the room with her. Wiping the crusty sleep from her eyes with her left hand, she squinted out into the darkness, steeling herself to jump up should the visitor prove to be unfriendly.
She glanced down, seeing a dark blob on the floor through her narrowed eyes. Her hand reached out from underneath the blanket and settled on the blob. It didn't move, and her hand traveled up to where she thought the head was. Her fingers caught hold of tri-folded hair, and a smooth braided rope of tresses fell down the blob's back.
In the darkness she half-smiled, half-frowned to herself.
"Dork just can't leave me alone," she said affectionately, letting his braid fall from her hands and tucking her arm back in under the blanket. Another thing for her to tease him with later on.
