AUTHOR'S NOTE
After much deliberation, I've decided to continue this story on ff.net. I politely ask that people refrain from threatening me in their reviews if I don't continue fast enough. This story is very important to me and I want it to be written perfectly. I hope everyone can understand my perfectionism as it pertains to the plot and character development. I admit full that the grammar could be better, but as I'm currently in the market for a beta, readers will have to bear with me. If anyone would like to take up the position of beta, let me know: quwinntessas@attbi.com
Please let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this story go. I love hearing the hypotheses of readers, please don't hesitate to share. Also, if there are any particular scenes you'd love to see happen please let me know, I like incorporating as many reader scenes as possible.
My new FF.net url is :
QS
Chapter 20
Quatre hadn't really wanted to go. No, he'd wanted to stay inside and finish the game he and Abdule had started the night before. But Rashid had insisted, and while Quatre was willing to state his opinions on things now, he wasn't willing to question something once Rashid had told him to do it.
The boys hadn't said anything about his feet and Quatre was confident that they wouldn't. Wufei had cornered him the next day and give him some numbing cream, and that had helped more than any other remedy that Quatre had ever tried. Wufei had suggested that Quatre consider a type of surgery, but after learning that he'd have to tell Rashid, Quatre opted not to, instead telling Wufei that he'd think about it, while putting the entire procedure out of his mind.
But all that had happened yesterday, and today, Quatre was busy walking down the long hallway towards Treize's quarters. To his right Abdule accompanied him. Rashid had been pulled away by some meeting of the council he'd had to attend but Quatre was more than willing to follow Abdule.
His brother stopped at the door Quatre knew belonged to Trieze and Milliardo. Quatre wasn't completely sure how that relationship all worked but he was content to know that neither Heero nor Wufei seemed concerned about it.
Abdule turned to him. "Now don't panic. Treize usually invites the new Recruits for a game of chess. Besides, after that show the two of you put on the other day, I can't image how he could stay away from the challenge."
Quatre blushed, remember the sudo-challenge he'd been issued by Treize and his reply back. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."
Abdule shook his head, waving his hands in denial in front of him. "No! That's not what I meant. Actually, I'm sure that Trieze is tickled to know that he'll be playing against someone with some manners. When Heero first played with Treize, Heero lost, and knocked the board over before tying to strangle him! I'm not kidding! Heero's background told him that if he lost he'd die, so he decided to try his luck killing
Trieze first. Thankfully, Zechs was there to pull the boy off and explain things. That was a really interesting game I heard. Poor Wufei nearly had a heart attack trying to get Heero away from Treize. We were all so surprised when they hooked up, especially since they didn't really like each other at first; but that's there story to tell. Anyway, just have a good game, and don't be afraid to loose, Treize kicks everyone's butt the first time, he's never lost a first game."
Nodding his understanding, and filling the tidbit away about Heero and Wufei not liking each other, Quatre followed Abdule into the room when the door opened.
Treize's room seemed to embody the man himself, not to mention Wufei. The room was beautifully furnished in oak and cherry wood. Classic and artful designs raced up inlaid pillars and while wall scrolls portrayed ancient Chinese sayings and things even Quatre couldn't decipher. Chinese art raced across the room, matched only by the classic European designs of the furniture and coloring. Quatre noticed that the couches looked inviting even though they were the embodiment of upper-class royalty. He remembered couches like that from his home on L-4, but they'd never looked so comfortable.
It was from one of these couches that Treize rose, walking to Abdule and greeting the older Recruit with a warm hug. He turned to Quatre then, but seemed to notice that a hug would not be well received and instead put out his hand.
This Quatre too understood. He'd had all the edict lessons any child born to privilege was expected to have. It was the only true lessons he'd received.
He took Treize's hand, shaking it twice before letting go-not dropping it, only heathens and those less so dropped a hand, this was a private game of war and dominance. Quatre was already on edge, so playing the game was no problem for him. Not a single part of him wanted to lose this battle, and he refused to give up any ground unless he absolutely had too. His eyes were warm steel as he looked into Treize's eyes, his intentions clear: I will not lose this private game we are playing, I won't lose anything to you.
Treize smiled, and from the smile Quatre knew he understood and had accepted the challenge, just as anyone raised as they had been should have. "Welcome to my humble abode. Please make yourselves comfortable. Can I get either of you something to drink?" Abdule requested some kind of fruit juice and Quatre took the offered water.
Abdule ushered Quatre into a seat on the couch, but Quatre instinctively took to one of the high-backed chairs that circled an elegantly carved Chinese coffee table, depicting Confucius teaching by the river. Abdule gave him an odd look but it was as if Quarter were in another world now, one that he understood much better than Abdule. This game he could play, and when it came time to play chess, he'd continue the game on the board.
Treize returned with their beverages, smiling as Quatre took his with a large smile that was as false as any would be in this situation. When Treize sat he tired to alleviate the severity of the atmosphere.
"Quatre, I asked Abdule to bring you here so we could get to know each other. I've learned that you are quite interested in strategy games, and since I am the teacher for the Strategy Path, I thought we could talk a little. Now, that's not to say of course that you'll be put onto this path, but it's as good an indication as any. The council likes to place Recruits where they're interested, so this might be true in your case as well. Anyway, I didn't think a game of chess would do us any harm, wouldn't you agree?"
There was no challenge in Treize's voice, in fact it was completely devoid of any kind of challenge in it at all; but Quatre had learned to build in challenges when they were absent, it was the only way for him to stay one step ahead.
"No harm at all, Mr. Treize. I, in fact, look forward to a good game." Quatre's voice however, held all the challenge void from Treize's and then some. Treize noticed but did nothing save to quirk one delicately forked eyebrow.
"Then if you have no objections, perhaps we should begin?"
Quatre didn't hesitate--to hesitate was to admit fear. "Yes, I believe that will suffice."
He glanced at Abdule and noticed right away the perplexed look on his brother's face. Quatre knew it was his words that put that look there, that it was Abdule's way of asking what was going on, and why all of a sudden was the constant shake and quiver of unspoken fear absent from Quatre's voice. He resigned himself to explain as much as he could to Abdule later, of telling his brother of the lessons he'd been through as a child, how to stand and sit, how to accept an invitation and how to decline one, how to make a challenge, and how to win. He'd explain as much as he could once they were back home, once they were away from prying eyes.
Quatre rose when Treize did, following him to a rice paper divide that showed a red Chinese dragon circling the Daoist symbol of Yin and Yang. On the other side of the divide, was a beautifully crafted chessboard, made from a material called Ivory that had not been a legally trades substance for well over three hundred years.
Quatre raised his eyes at the board, ready to begin the political game from this perspective. "I had thought such material was banned even in the colonies." He stated airily, a sweeping gesture indicating the chess board pieces.
Treize understood and made the appropriate reply. "Indeed, it is against legislation to purchase such pieces, but this set has been in my family since Before Colony. I believe that absolves me from any implications as to my possession of it."
And then, Quatre found his way in. "If you insist, though I would think a gentleman's morality would prevent him from even considering a game between gentlemen on such a board." So that with that one simple sentence, he'd won the round.
Treize again raised one forked eyebrow, as if coming to the realization that the game Quatre was playing was complete, that no stops were about to be pulled, and no mercy granted. "You are of course correct. If it concerns you, I will exchange our set for another."
This to Quatre accepted, and countered. "Thank you, but that is not necessary, for neither you nor I are gentleman in the eyes that would find this set unacceptable." In this he had set both of their places, by his statement alone, he'd defined who they were. They were casts off from society, homosexuals, and so they had no morality with which to be offended.
Trieze wisely chose not to comment on such a claim.
Without being asked, Quatre settled in front of the white pieces. As was customary, Quatre made the first move, lifting his hand off the piece when he was committed to its location.
It went like this for quite some time. Quatre would move and be countered almost immediately by Treize. Then, in response, Quatre would move another piece, effectively preventing the movement he suspected was to come from the older man.
He had no idea how much time had passed until he looked up at his brother and found that Abdule had moved a chair close to Quatre's own chair, but was watching the vid com and not the game.
For a moment, Quatre forgot that he could not show weakness in front of an opponent. "Abdule?" His brother turned, startled to hear the first live voice in the room in hours. "If you want we can go. I don't want to bore you." He realized his mistake the moment the two sentences were past his lips, but held firm to his belief that he would not show that knowledge to Treize. He kept his eyes locked on Abdule, as he imagined his brother's red ones were flittering back and forth from Quatre to Treize.
"No, that's ok. I'm just watching some travel show about L-2. You go ahead and play. You must be doing pretty good, the two of you have been at it for three hours now."
Three hours?! Quatre tried to think back to the time it took for each of his moves. He valued Treize as an opponent immediately. The older man was beyond skilled at this particular game of strategy. It was obvious to Quatre that the aristocrat had spent years studying the game before them, just as much as Quatre had.
Without looking at Treize, Quatre nodded once to Abdule and then looked back to examine the board. Six of his pieces lay to the side of the board in front of Treize, before Quatre lay only four. Quatre had lost one castle, a bishop, and four pawns; Treize was missing a knight, a bishop, and two pawns. The board looked equally as divided. From a glance, it was obvious that Treize was winning. Quatre's pieces were scattered around the board now, in a disarray of white and black.
But that was only at a glance. Beneath the cover of disorganization and misplaced moves, was a true battle of the minds. It was guerrilla warfare on Quatre's part, a war that was just about to begin against the organized ranks of Treize's Roman forces.
Looking up to meet Treize's eyes, Quatre nodded before looking back to the board and making his first move.
Bishop takes pawn.
Treize followed suite, seemingly unmindful of the strategy Quatre was employing.
Pawn takes Bishop. Quatre no longer had any Bishops.
Knight takes pawn.
Treize moved his Queen into position for an attack against Quatre's Castle.
Knight takes pawn.
Queen takes Castle. Quatre no longer had any Castles.
Pawn takes pawn.
Queen takes pawn. Treize moved the offensive piece.
"You can't make that move, Mr. Treize." Quatre's voice was confident as he pointed to the board, offering no other explanation, allowing the older man to see his own error.
Curious, Treize glanced at the board, and indeed, he could not make that move as it opened his King to check.
"I apologize, Quatre. I will take the move back as you said."
At the sound of their voices once again in the room, Abdule moved to stand beside Quatre and looked at the board.
With the piece back in place, Treize took a moment to consider his next step. Quatre's correction had seemingly placed a kink into his defensive line.
The man decided to move his King one square to the left.
Quatre moved one pawn towards the back line of Treize's board, now three squares from the back and directly in line to be captured in two moves by Treize's King itself. Quatre looked up in time to see Treize allow a small smile to form across his lips.
Queen to front right square.
And then to Quatre, the game was all over. He saw it clearly, just as he'd seen the entire game from the fourth move. He saw the pawn take pawn; Queen take pawn, Knight move ahead and to the left, Queen take Knight, pawn move one, King move right, Queen move to back left corner, Knight to block Queen from King, Queen to cross to the right to take pawn, King to move left, Queen to take Queen, Knight to block Queen, pawn to move one, Bishop to take Queen, pawn to move one, Bishop to take pawn, pawn to be Queened- Checkmate!
In seventeen moves the game would be over and Quatre would win. In seventeen moves Quatre would be the victor. In seventeen moves Quatre would be the first person to ever beat Treize on the first game. In seventeen moves, Quatre didn't know what was going to happen.
Never before had Treize lost during the first match. Never before had the man's patience been tempted in such a way. How would he react? What would he say or do? Would he become angry as most gentlemen did when they lost a game of strategy, not to mention to a boy? Would he be violent? Would his anger-rage-cause him to lash out?
Quatre was just starting to really recover from his earlier illnesses. He was just starting to be able to walk long distances, but to run them, to run from this much larger man while still looking out for his brother, for Abdule, Quatre didn't think he could manage that.
What should he do? Should he tempt the man's wrath? Should he play out the game and the see what kind of man Treize really was, or should he lose, deliberately misdirect a piece and give the man the win? What were the consequences of each?
If Quatre won, Treize could be violent, he could be cruel to Quatre in the future. What if Quatre was given to this path, what if Treize was bitter towards losing to him, and took the bitterness out on him as Quatre's own sisters once had?
But what if he took what Abdule and Rashid said as correct, what if he believed that Treize wouldn't harm him, and even if he would, that Abdule and Rashid would never let it go. Quatre tried to reason that Rashid and Abdule could protect him from Treize's wrath should the man try to take out his anger on Quatre, he tried, but in the end, he failed.
Quatre tipped over his King.
Surprised by the move, Treize did nothing for a moment as he reexamined the board, looking for the thing that he could not see. Abdule too looked puzzled as he leaned towards Treize to examine the board from that angle as well.
Quatre didn't dare let them continue. Clearing his throat, he put out his hand, waiting for Treize to reciprocate and shake his hand in a good game fashion. But when Treize did not move, instead turning his eyes from the board to Quatre's waiting hand and then turquoise eyes, he again cocked his eyebrow.
"I'm afraid I cannot see what move I might make to end this match. Perhaps you might enlighten me before we shake."
Caught, Quatre struggled to find a reasonable move to assume that Treize could have made and one that he might equally have made in error. Looking desperately at the board, Quatre searched frantically to find the illusive move that would set him free to return himself and Abdule to their quarters safely.
In the end he couldn't find it quickly enough.
"Quatre, you'll forgive me, but think you might have conceded this match too quickly. Perhaps you'll do me the honor of straightening your King and continuing."
He didn't mean for it to happen, didn't mean for his eyes to suddenly give away years of training at the hands of his father and tutors. Quatre didn't expect the shaking to start in his limbs so that the King fell twice before he could properly right it. No, he didn't expect any of those things to happen, but they none the less did.
Abdule noticed. In one step, Abdule was beside him, kneeling down to come eye level with the sitting Quatre. "Quatre, it's ok. Don't worry, it's ok. Remember I told you to just do your best. Nothing bad's going to happen to you, whether you win or lose. OH! Quatre."
With a shift, Quatre folded into his brother, throwing his arms around Abdule's neck in a crushing hug that spoke more of his fear than even words could. How could he explain, how could he tell Abdule that he didn't want to do anything that might endanger him, even if no one thought a danger was present?
Abdule and Rashid were the first people that Quatre could really say he consciously cared about, worrying about how his actions could effect them. He'd considered his sisters and father once too, but they had never consumed his thoughts like they did. The very idea that Abdule could be injured by his actions made him quake with such fear he could barely contain the shivers as they coursed across his muscles to dissolve into Abdule's frame.
Quatre didn't realize he'd allowed himself to be pulled into his brother's lap, didn't notice the slow rocking motion, or the fact that Treize had left the room to get Rashid. Quatre didn't notice that the side of his face was pressed flush to Abdule's neck, didn't notice and didn't care. He was so afraid. It seemed that nothing could be easy for him, nothing came without consequences that only he could see. His struggles to believe in the goodness of those around him were for not, because every time he attempted to trust one of them, he found it wasn't in his nature.
Quatre closed his eyes, allowing Abdule to continue the slow rocking motion he'd set. He listened with almost obsessed fascination to the kind words that Abdule spoke, the soft way his voice resounded about them, the feel of his much larger hands running across Quatre's back and bare arms.
Abdule was so kind to him, so loving, such a perfect brother. Quatre had often wondered if he would have been a good brother if given the chance. He wondered if he would have taken his crying sisters into his arms, held them like he was being held now, rocked them as he was being rocked, kissed their hair and whispered reassurances to them as was being done to him now. He didn't know, but he didn't think so.
"I-I'm sorry." He shifted, hiding his face in half shame half fear from Abdule's searching gaze.
"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Quatre. You've been through so much in your life, and even since you got here you've had a lot to think about and to recover from. I can't blame you for being hesitant and scared, I could never blame you. I was scared too when I got here, some days I still am. I wake up in the morning, snuggled beside Rashid, your blond hair against his chest, sticking up everywhere, and I think, 'What did I do to deserve this perfection? What could I have possibly done to deserve a family that loves me?' And then I get afraid, afraid that I'll waked up and it will all be a dream and I'll be back in the barracks, coal dust everywhere, not a clean place on me, and the lash marks from my last beating still fresh and bloody. But do you know what I do when I think like that? Do you want to know the secret to making that feeling go away?"
Wide-eyed with hope that Abdule had a cure for this constant doubt that plagued him, Quatre nodded.
Abdule smiled, a very soft, very comforting smile, and then slowly leaned down-giving Quatre plenty of warning and time to move away-before gently brushing his lips against the trembling one's of the boy in his lap. When he pulled back, Quatre watched with large eyes as his brother smiled down at him before nuzzling his cheek with his nose. "I remember that I'm a Maguanac now, not a slave, and definitely not some bastard's toy. I remember that I've got a Teacher that loves me, and a little brother at home who needs me to be strong. I remember that the men around me understand what I've been through because they've been through a lot of the same. But most of all, I remember this: Rashid loves me; so I'm safe.
"And that's all, Quatre. That's all there has to be. Rashid loves us both, he'll take care of both of us forever-or at least long enough for us to find our own way. Beyond that, other people love us too, even if it's not so obvious. You might not know everyone very well yet, but I guarantee that there isn't a one that wouldn't die for you, Quatre. You're a very special boy, and something tells me you're going to be an extremely important man when you grow up. But until then, you're just a boy, and that means you need others to take care of you for a while. You'll have to trust us, Quatre. You'll have to trust Rashid to care for you, and make sure that nothing bad happens to you. Trust that he would never have let you come to play chess with Treize if he didn't' know you'd be safe. Trust that he would have never sent me with you if I couldn't have kept you safe as well. Trust in us, Quatre, trust in us to love you and care for you like no one else ever has because we will; you're our family." Abdule, smiled, running his fingers along Quatre's cheek. "You're my brother, and I'll always take care of you."
Closing his eyes, Quatre nodded, allowing Abdule to pull him into the crook of his neck. He heard the door open but did not look up, felt the presence of Rashid beside him, but remained quiet, soaking up the truth he'd felt in everything Abdule had said-said with his hand directly over Quatre's heart.
When he'd defined it, categorized every single one of Abdule's words, and committed as much as he could remember to memory, he opened his eyes and came face to face with his brother, and smiled. Abdule returned the gesture.
"Do you want to finish your game with Treize now, Quatre?" He heard the humor in Abdule's voice, and smiled disarmingly at his Teacher when Rashid frowned at the suggestion.
Quatre ducked his eyes sheepishly as he glanced at Treize leaning against the back of the couch, concern written clearly across his face. "Um, I don't have to finish, it's already done."
Treize cleared his throat. "Quatre, I will of course allow you to straighten your King. There is much still left of our game." He stopped at the shake of Quatre's head.
With one more confirming glance to Abdule, and one more towards his still silent Teacher, he looked at Treize and took a deep breath, a little more confident now that both his Teacher and his brother were with him. "If you wish to maintain your current status, you should allow my concede from the game."
At Treize's arched eyebrow, Quatre ducked again before receiving a short squeeze from Abdule.
"If we continue, you will lose in seventeen moves."
The silence was deafening. Worried, that his fears were about to come true, Quatre wrapped his left arm about Abdule's neck and tugged ever so slightly, a plea for both comfort and reassurance.
For his part, Treize moved to look down at the chessboard. He studied it for a long time, a period in which, Rashid moved to stand next to him, both looking down at the board in confusion. Abdule just snuggled him closer and began to rock them both.
Finally, Treize turned to him. "You'll have to forgive me, Quatre, but I cannot see how you could win. Perhaps you'd be so good as to allow our game to continue to the last. It would please me greatly if you were correct."
From where he sat in the circling comfort of his brother's arms, Quatre looked up at the man he'd been fearful of only minutes before. There was no cruelty in his stance, no malice or intent to harm in what little Quatre could glean from his gift. The man seemed genuinely curious, and Quatre felt a little bit stronger.
With a tentative nod he stood, allowing both Rashid and Abdule to help him when his legs gave way due to his past illness. Still silent, Rashid helped him to the chair before moving back to hold Abdule tightly in his embrace.
Quatre glanced at them both-his family-before redirecting his attention to the world of black and white before him. With the righting of his King, Quatre took his first move and began the final dance.
Quatre's pawn took Treize's.
Fifteen moves were over in a little over an hour, and not a single move had differed from how Quatre had seen them in his mind's eye. At fifteen moves, Treize stopped, his hand hovering over his pieces, only to see the inevitable, and return them to his lap. The older man was silent for a long time, looking continuously over the board, retracing his steps from the first move of the last fifteen.
Then, to Quatre's sudden worry, Treize, instructor for the path of Strategy, gently tipped over his King, conceding the match. "As you said it would be, Quatre, seventeen moves until my loss. It was an excellent game. However, I must ask you, how could you possibly have seen my defeat in seventeen moves. Not even the great Bobby Fish, now nearly five hundred years gone, could predict more than twelve? This is far from an accusation, but does it have anything to do with your gift as an empath?"
Quatre felt the familiar jolt of panic seize his heart at Treize's question. He remembered the images of beaten men, women and children, all reported empaths, beaten to death by a society that despised them for their curses. He saw an image of his own face, as it appeared in the shinny reflective surface of the bulkhead, bruised and beaten by his father once again.
So he stood, moving the chair back gently as Treize too stood, self- recrimination written in his expression. In a few strides, Quatre was in the safety of Abdule's arms once again, the feel of his brother's kiss against his hair a comfort Quatre wished he'd had his whole life. When he felt Rashid's hand come to rest on his shoulder, Quatre turned back to face Treize.
"I don't know how I do it. I don't think it has anything to do with my.curse. I just watched your moves and then anticipated what you'd do next. You're a methodical player, once I figured out that you play like the Roman legions were at your command, I just played the part assigned to defeat them."
"And what part was that, Quatre?"
"The heathens. I destroyed your army by not being afraid to die myself, or take others along with me."
In the silence that followed, Rashid steered Quatre and Abdule towards the door, exiting politely but quietly as the family moved back to their own apartment at the end of the hallway. It didn't escape Quatre's notice however, that Rashid was visibly upset by his answer, or that Treize was still by the table when they left, his eyes transfixed to that of Quatre's King, standing tall over a victory, and an army of only four pawns and a Queen.
* * *
Later, Quatre entered the living room, his hair wet from the shower he'd taken after dinner when he felt Rashid and Abdule needed some time alone together. He'd sensed that something wasn't right with Rashid, but remained silent. Now that he was reentering the room, he felt his Teacher was more at ease; perhaps the time with Abdule had helped him.
His brother lay across the couch, his hand poised over the remote control as he changed the channel during a commercial. It was Wednesday, which meant that Abdule's favorite science fiction show would be on. Quatre noticed that Rashid was in the chair closest to the door, his datapad forgotten at Quatre's entrance.
"Feeling better?" Quatre offered a quick smile and a nod at Rashid's question. "Good. Is your homework finished?" Again, Quatre nodded. "Very good." And then Rashid was silent, as if he could read the indecision racing through Quatre's mind and heart.
He'd been this way since entering the shower. Thoughts racing as he considered his options and the words Abdule had spoken to him that afternoon. Could he do it? Should he even attempt it? If it failed, if he couldn't stand it, what would he do then? How could he face them, their disappointment?
And suddenly, Abdule's words came back to him.
Trust in us, Quatre, trust in us to love you and care for you like no one else ever has because we will; you're our family.
Before he could change his mind, before the doubt came back to crush the last semblance of strength he'd taken from those words, Quatre crossed the room and stood before the couch his brother lay on.
Abdule looked up. "Do you want to sit down, Quatre?"
Silently, Quatre shook his head, his eyes drifting away from Abdule's only to have him force them back with a sense of defiance towards his past.
Holding his brother's eyes with his own, Quatre said one of the hardest things he could ever remember saying. "Please don't be sad if I can't do this." He didn't pause to consider Abdule's questioning look.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre lifted Abdule's arm from where it lay across his chest and moved it to rest against the tall man's hip and the couch back. And then, through some unspoken agreement, Abdule shifted slowly onto his side, holding Quatre's eyes all the while. The invitation was clear, even to Quatre's deprived understanding. Taking a deep breath, Quatre turned away from Abdule to face the vid screen, and sat down, breathing hard as his fear threatened to catch up with him.
Pushing it aside, pushing all other thoughts from his mind, Quatre concentrated on making his muscles move, of blocking out the sensations that flooded his deprived senses, as slowly, very slowly, he lay down across the couch, and leaned back against Abdule.
Stiff as a board, they lay that way through the next act of the show, Abdule laughing heartily in all the right places, Quatre fighting every survival skill he'd ever known, and Rashid watching them carefully hypothesizing about what would come next.
It turned out, that next would come Abdule's arm, down across Quatre's biceps, his hand laying lightly against Quatre's upper stomach and lower chest. Very softly, he offered his explanation. "That's more comfortable."
They laid that way for nearly three hours, watching shows they'd never seen before to prolong the moment, fearful it wouldn't come again if tempted too early or too late. Somewhere in the second hour, Quatre's muscles released, somewhere in that same hour his neck gave way so that his head lay cushioned comfortably on Abdule's arm. Then somewhere in the third hour, Quatre fell asleep from exhaustion.
When Abdule noticed and threatened to shake him awake, Rashid finally intervened. Rising, the giant moved to the couch and gathered Quatre into his arms before stepping back to wait for Abdule. His first Recruit smiled warmly before rising, stretching, and moving with his Teacher to the bedroom.
As a team, they drew Quatre's clothing from his body, stripping him until he wore only a pair of loose silk pants. At Rashid's nod, Abdule stripped completely before sliding into bed. The Recruit was startled as Rashid lovingly placed Quatre's head upon his shoulder. Worried that his Teacher would again grow distant because of the brothers' closeness, he tried to protest with gestures alone. But Rashid only shook his head before removing his clothing and sliding in behind Quatre, the boy's back pressed against his chest.
Large but gentle fingers found their way into Abdule's hair, and the twenty- seven year old man nearly purred with what that gesture meant.
All was right between them.
Snuggling Quatre closer to him, Abdule reached out and smiled when Rashid took his hand, bringing it to his lips before kissing each finger. With Rashid's fingers intertwined with his own, their hands laying across Quatre's side, Abdule drifted off to sleep.
Rashid lay awake for a long time, considering the things that had happened this day, and the things he'd learned from Howard in their private meeting earlier that afternoon. Quatre's answers from earlier that day concerned him, especially in light of Howard's confirmations of Master Habsaba's movements. There was something desperately special about Quatre, something so important about the boy that now lay between himself and his lover. Quatre had a role to play that even he could not hope to uncover at present, but the boy was just that, a boy, and today, that boy had made an amazing advancement towards his own salvation.
Lightly, Rashid kissed the back of Quatre's head, hoping desperately that the boy be placed in Treize's strategy path the day after tomorrow at the Council of Placement.
After much deliberation, I've decided to continue this story on ff.net. I politely ask that people refrain from threatening me in their reviews if I don't continue fast enough. This story is very important to me and I want it to be written perfectly. I hope everyone can understand my perfectionism as it pertains to the plot and character development. I admit full that the grammar could be better, but as I'm currently in the market for a beta, readers will have to bear with me. If anyone would like to take up the position of beta, let me know: quwinntessas@attbi.com
Please let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this story go. I love hearing the hypotheses of readers, please don't hesitate to share. Also, if there are any particular scenes you'd love to see happen please let me know, I like incorporating as many reader scenes as possible.
My new FF.net url is :
QS
Chapter 20
Quatre hadn't really wanted to go. No, he'd wanted to stay inside and finish the game he and Abdule had started the night before. But Rashid had insisted, and while Quatre was willing to state his opinions on things now, he wasn't willing to question something once Rashid had told him to do it.
The boys hadn't said anything about his feet and Quatre was confident that they wouldn't. Wufei had cornered him the next day and give him some numbing cream, and that had helped more than any other remedy that Quatre had ever tried. Wufei had suggested that Quatre consider a type of surgery, but after learning that he'd have to tell Rashid, Quatre opted not to, instead telling Wufei that he'd think about it, while putting the entire procedure out of his mind.
But all that had happened yesterday, and today, Quatre was busy walking down the long hallway towards Treize's quarters. To his right Abdule accompanied him. Rashid had been pulled away by some meeting of the council he'd had to attend but Quatre was more than willing to follow Abdule.
His brother stopped at the door Quatre knew belonged to Trieze and Milliardo. Quatre wasn't completely sure how that relationship all worked but he was content to know that neither Heero nor Wufei seemed concerned about it.
Abdule turned to him. "Now don't panic. Treize usually invites the new Recruits for a game of chess. Besides, after that show the two of you put on the other day, I can't image how he could stay away from the challenge."
Quatre blushed, remember the sudo-challenge he'd been issued by Treize and his reply back. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."
Abdule shook his head, waving his hands in denial in front of him. "No! That's not what I meant. Actually, I'm sure that Trieze is tickled to know that he'll be playing against someone with some manners. When Heero first played with Treize, Heero lost, and knocked the board over before tying to strangle him! I'm not kidding! Heero's background told him that if he lost he'd die, so he decided to try his luck killing
Trieze first. Thankfully, Zechs was there to pull the boy off and explain things. That was a really interesting game I heard. Poor Wufei nearly had a heart attack trying to get Heero away from Treize. We were all so surprised when they hooked up, especially since they didn't really like each other at first; but that's there story to tell. Anyway, just have a good game, and don't be afraid to loose, Treize kicks everyone's butt the first time, he's never lost a first game."
Nodding his understanding, and filling the tidbit away about Heero and Wufei not liking each other, Quatre followed Abdule into the room when the door opened.
Treize's room seemed to embody the man himself, not to mention Wufei. The room was beautifully furnished in oak and cherry wood. Classic and artful designs raced up inlaid pillars and while wall scrolls portrayed ancient Chinese sayings and things even Quatre couldn't decipher. Chinese art raced across the room, matched only by the classic European designs of the furniture and coloring. Quatre noticed that the couches looked inviting even though they were the embodiment of upper-class royalty. He remembered couches like that from his home on L-4, but they'd never looked so comfortable.
It was from one of these couches that Treize rose, walking to Abdule and greeting the older Recruit with a warm hug. He turned to Quatre then, but seemed to notice that a hug would not be well received and instead put out his hand.
This Quatre too understood. He'd had all the edict lessons any child born to privilege was expected to have. It was the only true lessons he'd received.
He took Treize's hand, shaking it twice before letting go-not dropping it, only heathens and those less so dropped a hand, this was a private game of war and dominance. Quatre was already on edge, so playing the game was no problem for him. Not a single part of him wanted to lose this battle, and he refused to give up any ground unless he absolutely had too. His eyes were warm steel as he looked into Treize's eyes, his intentions clear: I will not lose this private game we are playing, I won't lose anything to you.
Treize smiled, and from the smile Quatre knew he understood and had accepted the challenge, just as anyone raised as they had been should have. "Welcome to my humble abode. Please make yourselves comfortable. Can I get either of you something to drink?" Abdule requested some kind of fruit juice and Quatre took the offered water.
Abdule ushered Quatre into a seat on the couch, but Quatre instinctively took to one of the high-backed chairs that circled an elegantly carved Chinese coffee table, depicting Confucius teaching by the river. Abdule gave him an odd look but it was as if Quarter were in another world now, one that he understood much better than Abdule. This game he could play, and when it came time to play chess, he'd continue the game on the board.
Treize returned with their beverages, smiling as Quatre took his with a large smile that was as false as any would be in this situation. When Treize sat he tired to alleviate the severity of the atmosphere.
"Quatre, I asked Abdule to bring you here so we could get to know each other. I've learned that you are quite interested in strategy games, and since I am the teacher for the Strategy Path, I thought we could talk a little. Now, that's not to say of course that you'll be put onto this path, but it's as good an indication as any. The council likes to place Recruits where they're interested, so this might be true in your case as well. Anyway, I didn't think a game of chess would do us any harm, wouldn't you agree?"
There was no challenge in Treize's voice, in fact it was completely devoid of any kind of challenge in it at all; but Quatre had learned to build in challenges when they were absent, it was the only way for him to stay one step ahead.
"No harm at all, Mr. Treize. I, in fact, look forward to a good game." Quatre's voice however, held all the challenge void from Treize's and then some. Treize noticed but did nothing save to quirk one delicately forked eyebrow.
"Then if you have no objections, perhaps we should begin?"
Quatre didn't hesitate--to hesitate was to admit fear. "Yes, I believe that will suffice."
He glanced at Abdule and noticed right away the perplexed look on his brother's face. Quatre knew it was his words that put that look there, that it was Abdule's way of asking what was going on, and why all of a sudden was the constant shake and quiver of unspoken fear absent from Quatre's voice. He resigned himself to explain as much as he could to Abdule later, of telling his brother of the lessons he'd been through as a child, how to stand and sit, how to accept an invitation and how to decline one, how to make a challenge, and how to win. He'd explain as much as he could once they were back home, once they were away from prying eyes.
Quatre rose when Treize did, following him to a rice paper divide that showed a red Chinese dragon circling the Daoist symbol of Yin and Yang. On the other side of the divide, was a beautifully crafted chessboard, made from a material called Ivory that had not been a legally trades substance for well over three hundred years.
Quatre raised his eyes at the board, ready to begin the political game from this perspective. "I had thought such material was banned even in the colonies." He stated airily, a sweeping gesture indicating the chess board pieces.
Treize understood and made the appropriate reply. "Indeed, it is against legislation to purchase such pieces, but this set has been in my family since Before Colony. I believe that absolves me from any implications as to my possession of it."
And then, Quatre found his way in. "If you insist, though I would think a gentleman's morality would prevent him from even considering a game between gentlemen on such a board." So that with that one simple sentence, he'd won the round.
Treize again raised one forked eyebrow, as if coming to the realization that the game Quatre was playing was complete, that no stops were about to be pulled, and no mercy granted. "You are of course correct. If it concerns you, I will exchange our set for another."
This to Quatre accepted, and countered. "Thank you, but that is not necessary, for neither you nor I are gentleman in the eyes that would find this set unacceptable." In this he had set both of their places, by his statement alone, he'd defined who they were. They were casts off from society, homosexuals, and so they had no morality with which to be offended.
Trieze wisely chose not to comment on such a claim.
Without being asked, Quatre settled in front of the white pieces. As was customary, Quatre made the first move, lifting his hand off the piece when he was committed to its location.
It went like this for quite some time. Quatre would move and be countered almost immediately by Treize. Then, in response, Quatre would move another piece, effectively preventing the movement he suspected was to come from the older man.
He had no idea how much time had passed until he looked up at his brother and found that Abdule had moved a chair close to Quatre's own chair, but was watching the vid com and not the game.
For a moment, Quatre forgot that he could not show weakness in front of an opponent. "Abdule?" His brother turned, startled to hear the first live voice in the room in hours. "If you want we can go. I don't want to bore you." He realized his mistake the moment the two sentences were past his lips, but held firm to his belief that he would not show that knowledge to Treize. He kept his eyes locked on Abdule, as he imagined his brother's red ones were flittering back and forth from Quatre to Treize.
"No, that's ok. I'm just watching some travel show about L-2. You go ahead and play. You must be doing pretty good, the two of you have been at it for three hours now."
Three hours?! Quatre tried to think back to the time it took for each of his moves. He valued Treize as an opponent immediately. The older man was beyond skilled at this particular game of strategy. It was obvious to Quatre that the aristocrat had spent years studying the game before them, just as much as Quatre had.
Without looking at Treize, Quatre nodded once to Abdule and then looked back to examine the board. Six of his pieces lay to the side of the board in front of Treize, before Quatre lay only four. Quatre had lost one castle, a bishop, and four pawns; Treize was missing a knight, a bishop, and two pawns. The board looked equally as divided. From a glance, it was obvious that Treize was winning. Quatre's pieces were scattered around the board now, in a disarray of white and black.
But that was only at a glance. Beneath the cover of disorganization and misplaced moves, was a true battle of the minds. It was guerrilla warfare on Quatre's part, a war that was just about to begin against the organized ranks of Treize's Roman forces.
Looking up to meet Treize's eyes, Quatre nodded before looking back to the board and making his first move.
Bishop takes pawn.
Treize followed suite, seemingly unmindful of the strategy Quatre was employing.
Pawn takes Bishop. Quatre no longer had any Bishops.
Knight takes pawn.
Treize moved his Queen into position for an attack against Quatre's Castle.
Knight takes pawn.
Queen takes Castle. Quatre no longer had any Castles.
Pawn takes pawn.
Queen takes pawn. Treize moved the offensive piece.
"You can't make that move, Mr. Treize." Quatre's voice was confident as he pointed to the board, offering no other explanation, allowing the older man to see his own error.
Curious, Treize glanced at the board, and indeed, he could not make that move as it opened his King to check.
"I apologize, Quatre. I will take the move back as you said."
At the sound of their voices once again in the room, Abdule moved to stand beside Quatre and looked at the board.
With the piece back in place, Treize took a moment to consider his next step. Quatre's correction had seemingly placed a kink into his defensive line.
The man decided to move his King one square to the left.
Quatre moved one pawn towards the back line of Treize's board, now three squares from the back and directly in line to be captured in two moves by Treize's King itself. Quatre looked up in time to see Treize allow a small smile to form across his lips.
Queen to front right square.
And then to Quatre, the game was all over. He saw it clearly, just as he'd seen the entire game from the fourth move. He saw the pawn take pawn; Queen take pawn, Knight move ahead and to the left, Queen take Knight, pawn move one, King move right, Queen move to back left corner, Knight to block Queen from King, Queen to cross to the right to take pawn, King to move left, Queen to take Queen, Knight to block Queen, pawn to move one, Bishop to take Queen, pawn to move one, Bishop to take pawn, pawn to be Queened- Checkmate!
In seventeen moves the game would be over and Quatre would win. In seventeen moves Quatre would be the victor. In seventeen moves Quatre would be the first person to ever beat Treize on the first game. In seventeen moves, Quatre didn't know what was going to happen.
Never before had Treize lost during the first match. Never before had the man's patience been tempted in such a way. How would he react? What would he say or do? Would he become angry as most gentlemen did when they lost a game of strategy, not to mention to a boy? Would he be violent? Would his anger-rage-cause him to lash out?
Quatre was just starting to really recover from his earlier illnesses. He was just starting to be able to walk long distances, but to run them, to run from this much larger man while still looking out for his brother, for Abdule, Quatre didn't think he could manage that.
What should he do? Should he tempt the man's wrath? Should he play out the game and the see what kind of man Treize really was, or should he lose, deliberately misdirect a piece and give the man the win? What were the consequences of each?
If Quatre won, Treize could be violent, he could be cruel to Quatre in the future. What if Quatre was given to this path, what if Treize was bitter towards losing to him, and took the bitterness out on him as Quatre's own sisters once had?
But what if he took what Abdule and Rashid said as correct, what if he believed that Treize wouldn't harm him, and even if he would, that Abdule and Rashid would never let it go. Quatre tried to reason that Rashid and Abdule could protect him from Treize's wrath should the man try to take out his anger on Quatre, he tried, but in the end, he failed.
Quatre tipped over his King.
Surprised by the move, Treize did nothing for a moment as he reexamined the board, looking for the thing that he could not see. Abdule too looked puzzled as he leaned towards Treize to examine the board from that angle as well.
Quatre didn't dare let them continue. Clearing his throat, he put out his hand, waiting for Treize to reciprocate and shake his hand in a good game fashion. But when Treize did not move, instead turning his eyes from the board to Quatre's waiting hand and then turquoise eyes, he again cocked his eyebrow.
"I'm afraid I cannot see what move I might make to end this match. Perhaps you might enlighten me before we shake."
Caught, Quatre struggled to find a reasonable move to assume that Treize could have made and one that he might equally have made in error. Looking desperately at the board, Quatre searched frantically to find the illusive move that would set him free to return himself and Abdule to their quarters safely.
In the end he couldn't find it quickly enough.
"Quatre, you'll forgive me, but think you might have conceded this match too quickly. Perhaps you'll do me the honor of straightening your King and continuing."
He didn't mean for it to happen, didn't mean for his eyes to suddenly give away years of training at the hands of his father and tutors. Quatre didn't expect the shaking to start in his limbs so that the King fell twice before he could properly right it. No, he didn't expect any of those things to happen, but they none the less did.
Abdule noticed. In one step, Abdule was beside him, kneeling down to come eye level with the sitting Quatre. "Quatre, it's ok. Don't worry, it's ok. Remember I told you to just do your best. Nothing bad's going to happen to you, whether you win or lose. OH! Quatre."
With a shift, Quatre folded into his brother, throwing his arms around Abdule's neck in a crushing hug that spoke more of his fear than even words could. How could he explain, how could he tell Abdule that he didn't want to do anything that might endanger him, even if no one thought a danger was present?
Abdule and Rashid were the first people that Quatre could really say he consciously cared about, worrying about how his actions could effect them. He'd considered his sisters and father once too, but they had never consumed his thoughts like they did. The very idea that Abdule could be injured by his actions made him quake with such fear he could barely contain the shivers as they coursed across his muscles to dissolve into Abdule's frame.
Quatre didn't realize he'd allowed himself to be pulled into his brother's lap, didn't notice the slow rocking motion, or the fact that Treize had left the room to get Rashid. Quatre didn't notice that the side of his face was pressed flush to Abdule's neck, didn't notice and didn't care. He was so afraid. It seemed that nothing could be easy for him, nothing came without consequences that only he could see. His struggles to believe in the goodness of those around him were for not, because every time he attempted to trust one of them, he found it wasn't in his nature.
Quatre closed his eyes, allowing Abdule to continue the slow rocking motion he'd set. He listened with almost obsessed fascination to the kind words that Abdule spoke, the soft way his voice resounded about them, the feel of his much larger hands running across Quatre's back and bare arms.
Abdule was so kind to him, so loving, such a perfect brother. Quatre had often wondered if he would have been a good brother if given the chance. He wondered if he would have taken his crying sisters into his arms, held them like he was being held now, rocked them as he was being rocked, kissed their hair and whispered reassurances to them as was being done to him now. He didn't know, but he didn't think so.
"I-I'm sorry." He shifted, hiding his face in half shame half fear from Abdule's searching gaze.
"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Quatre. You've been through so much in your life, and even since you got here you've had a lot to think about and to recover from. I can't blame you for being hesitant and scared, I could never blame you. I was scared too when I got here, some days I still am. I wake up in the morning, snuggled beside Rashid, your blond hair against his chest, sticking up everywhere, and I think, 'What did I do to deserve this perfection? What could I have possibly done to deserve a family that loves me?' And then I get afraid, afraid that I'll waked up and it will all be a dream and I'll be back in the barracks, coal dust everywhere, not a clean place on me, and the lash marks from my last beating still fresh and bloody. But do you know what I do when I think like that? Do you want to know the secret to making that feeling go away?"
Wide-eyed with hope that Abdule had a cure for this constant doubt that plagued him, Quatre nodded.
Abdule smiled, a very soft, very comforting smile, and then slowly leaned down-giving Quatre plenty of warning and time to move away-before gently brushing his lips against the trembling one's of the boy in his lap. When he pulled back, Quatre watched with large eyes as his brother smiled down at him before nuzzling his cheek with his nose. "I remember that I'm a Maguanac now, not a slave, and definitely not some bastard's toy. I remember that I've got a Teacher that loves me, and a little brother at home who needs me to be strong. I remember that the men around me understand what I've been through because they've been through a lot of the same. But most of all, I remember this: Rashid loves me; so I'm safe.
"And that's all, Quatre. That's all there has to be. Rashid loves us both, he'll take care of both of us forever-or at least long enough for us to find our own way. Beyond that, other people love us too, even if it's not so obvious. You might not know everyone very well yet, but I guarantee that there isn't a one that wouldn't die for you, Quatre. You're a very special boy, and something tells me you're going to be an extremely important man when you grow up. But until then, you're just a boy, and that means you need others to take care of you for a while. You'll have to trust us, Quatre. You'll have to trust Rashid to care for you, and make sure that nothing bad happens to you. Trust that he would never have let you come to play chess with Treize if he didn't' know you'd be safe. Trust that he would have never sent me with you if I couldn't have kept you safe as well. Trust in us, Quatre, trust in us to love you and care for you like no one else ever has because we will; you're our family." Abdule, smiled, running his fingers along Quatre's cheek. "You're my brother, and I'll always take care of you."
Closing his eyes, Quatre nodded, allowing Abdule to pull him into the crook of his neck. He heard the door open but did not look up, felt the presence of Rashid beside him, but remained quiet, soaking up the truth he'd felt in everything Abdule had said-said with his hand directly over Quatre's heart.
When he'd defined it, categorized every single one of Abdule's words, and committed as much as he could remember to memory, he opened his eyes and came face to face with his brother, and smiled. Abdule returned the gesture.
"Do you want to finish your game with Treize now, Quatre?" He heard the humor in Abdule's voice, and smiled disarmingly at his Teacher when Rashid frowned at the suggestion.
Quatre ducked his eyes sheepishly as he glanced at Treize leaning against the back of the couch, concern written clearly across his face. "Um, I don't have to finish, it's already done."
Treize cleared his throat. "Quatre, I will of course allow you to straighten your King. There is much still left of our game." He stopped at the shake of Quatre's head.
With one more confirming glance to Abdule, and one more towards his still silent Teacher, he looked at Treize and took a deep breath, a little more confident now that both his Teacher and his brother were with him. "If you wish to maintain your current status, you should allow my concede from the game."
At Treize's arched eyebrow, Quatre ducked again before receiving a short squeeze from Abdule.
"If we continue, you will lose in seventeen moves."
The silence was deafening. Worried, that his fears were about to come true, Quatre wrapped his left arm about Abdule's neck and tugged ever so slightly, a plea for both comfort and reassurance.
For his part, Treize moved to look down at the chessboard. He studied it for a long time, a period in which, Rashid moved to stand next to him, both looking down at the board in confusion. Abdule just snuggled him closer and began to rock them both.
Finally, Treize turned to him. "You'll have to forgive me, Quatre, but I cannot see how you could win. Perhaps you'd be so good as to allow our game to continue to the last. It would please me greatly if you were correct."
From where he sat in the circling comfort of his brother's arms, Quatre looked up at the man he'd been fearful of only minutes before. There was no cruelty in his stance, no malice or intent to harm in what little Quatre could glean from his gift. The man seemed genuinely curious, and Quatre felt a little bit stronger.
With a tentative nod he stood, allowing both Rashid and Abdule to help him when his legs gave way due to his past illness. Still silent, Rashid helped him to the chair before moving back to hold Abdule tightly in his embrace.
Quatre glanced at them both-his family-before redirecting his attention to the world of black and white before him. With the righting of his King, Quatre took his first move and began the final dance.
Quatre's pawn took Treize's.
Fifteen moves were over in a little over an hour, and not a single move had differed from how Quatre had seen them in his mind's eye. At fifteen moves, Treize stopped, his hand hovering over his pieces, only to see the inevitable, and return them to his lap. The older man was silent for a long time, looking continuously over the board, retracing his steps from the first move of the last fifteen.
Then, to Quatre's sudden worry, Treize, instructor for the path of Strategy, gently tipped over his King, conceding the match. "As you said it would be, Quatre, seventeen moves until my loss. It was an excellent game. However, I must ask you, how could you possibly have seen my defeat in seventeen moves. Not even the great Bobby Fish, now nearly five hundred years gone, could predict more than twelve? This is far from an accusation, but does it have anything to do with your gift as an empath?"
Quatre felt the familiar jolt of panic seize his heart at Treize's question. He remembered the images of beaten men, women and children, all reported empaths, beaten to death by a society that despised them for their curses. He saw an image of his own face, as it appeared in the shinny reflective surface of the bulkhead, bruised and beaten by his father once again.
So he stood, moving the chair back gently as Treize too stood, self- recrimination written in his expression. In a few strides, Quatre was in the safety of Abdule's arms once again, the feel of his brother's kiss against his hair a comfort Quatre wished he'd had his whole life. When he felt Rashid's hand come to rest on his shoulder, Quatre turned back to face Treize.
"I don't know how I do it. I don't think it has anything to do with my.curse. I just watched your moves and then anticipated what you'd do next. You're a methodical player, once I figured out that you play like the Roman legions were at your command, I just played the part assigned to defeat them."
"And what part was that, Quatre?"
"The heathens. I destroyed your army by not being afraid to die myself, or take others along with me."
In the silence that followed, Rashid steered Quatre and Abdule towards the door, exiting politely but quietly as the family moved back to their own apartment at the end of the hallway. It didn't escape Quatre's notice however, that Rashid was visibly upset by his answer, or that Treize was still by the table when they left, his eyes transfixed to that of Quatre's King, standing tall over a victory, and an army of only four pawns and a Queen.
* * *
Later, Quatre entered the living room, his hair wet from the shower he'd taken after dinner when he felt Rashid and Abdule needed some time alone together. He'd sensed that something wasn't right with Rashid, but remained silent. Now that he was reentering the room, he felt his Teacher was more at ease; perhaps the time with Abdule had helped him.
His brother lay across the couch, his hand poised over the remote control as he changed the channel during a commercial. It was Wednesday, which meant that Abdule's favorite science fiction show would be on. Quatre noticed that Rashid was in the chair closest to the door, his datapad forgotten at Quatre's entrance.
"Feeling better?" Quatre offered a quick smile and a nod at Rashid's question. "Good. Is your homework finished?" Again, Quatre nodded. "Very good." And then Rashid was silent, as if he could read the indecision racing through Quatre's mind and heart.
He'd been this way since entering the shower. Thoughts racing as he considered his options and the words Abdule had spoken to him that afternoon. Could he do it? Should he even attempt it? If it failed, if he couldn't stand it, what would he do then? How could he face them, their disappointment?
And suddenly, Abdule's words came back to him.
Trust in us, Quatre, trust in us to love you and care for you like no one else ever has because we will; you're our family.
Before he could change his mind, before the doubt came back to crush the last semblance of strength he'd taken from those words, Quatre crossed the room and stood before the couch his brother lay on.
Abdule looked up. "Do you want to sit down, Quatre?"
Silently, Quatre shook his head, his eyes drifting away from Abdule's only to have him force them back with a sense of defiance towards his past.
Holding his brother's eyes with his own, Quatre said one of the hardest things he could ever remember saying. "Please don't be sad if I can't do this." He didn't pause to consider Abdule's questioning look.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre lifted Abdule's arm from where it lay across his chest and moved it to rest against the tall man's hip and the couch back. And then, through some unspoken agreement, Abdule shifted slowly onto his side, holding Quatre's eyes all the while. The invitation was clear, even to Quatre's deprived understanding. Taking a deep breath, Quatre turned away from Abdule to face the vid screen, and sat down, breathing hard as his fear threatened to catch up with him.
Pushing it aside, pushing all other thoughts from his mind, Quatre concentrated on making his muscles move, of blocking out the sensations that flooded his deprived senses, as slowly, very slowly, he lay down across the couch, and leaned back against Abdule.
Stiff as a board, they lay that way through the next act of the show, Abdule laughing heartily in all the right places, Quatre fighting every survival skill he'd ever known, and Rashid watching them carefully hypothesizing about what would come next.
It turned out, that next would come Abdule's arm, down across Quatre's biceps, his hand laying lightly against Quatre's upper stomach and lower chest. Very softly, he offered his explanation. "That's more comfortable."
They laid that way for nearly three hours, watching shows they'd never seen before to prolong the moment, fearful it wouldn't come again if tempted too early or too late. Somewhere in the second hour, Quatre's muscles released, somewhere in that same hour his neck gave way so that his head lay cushioned comfortably on Abdule's arm. Then somewhere in the third hour, Quatre fell asleep from exhaustion.
When Abdule noticed and threatened to shake him awake, Rashid finally intervened. Rising, the giant moved to the couch and gathered Quatre into his arms before stepping back to wait for Abdule. His first Recruit smiled warmly before rising, stretching, and moving with his Teacher to the bedroom.
As a team, they drew Quatre's clothing from his body, stripping him until he wore only a pair of loose silk pants. At Rashid's nod, Abdule stripped completely before sliding into bed. The Recruit was startled as Rashid lovingly placed Quatre's head upon his shoulder. Worried that his Teacher would again grow distant because of the brothers' closeness, he tried to protest with gestures alone. But Rashid only shook his head before removing his clothing and sliding in behind Quatre, the boy's back pressed against his chest.
Large but gentle fingers found their way into Abdule's hair, and the twenty- seven year old man nearly purred with what that gesture meant.
All was right between them.
Snuggling Quatre closer to him, Abdule reached out and smiled when Rashid took his hand, bringing it to his lips before kissing each finger. With Rashid's fingers intertwined with his own, their hands laying across Quatre's side, Abdule drifted off to sleep.
Rashid lay awake for a long time, considering the things that had happened this day, and the things he'd learned from Howard in their private meeting earlier that afternoon. Quatre's answers from earlier that day concerned him, especially in light of Howard's confirmations of Master Habsaba's movements. There was something desperately special about Quatre, something so important about the boy that now lay between himself and his lover. Quatre had a role to play that even he could not hope to uncover at present, but the boy was just that, a boy, and today, that boy had made an amazing advancement towards his own salvation.
Lightly, Rashid kissed the back of Quatre's head, hoping desperately that the boy be placed in Treize's strategy path the day after tomorrow at the Council of Placement.