Quatre was unable to sit still throughout the limo ride to Winner Enterprise. He couldn't help but wonder what his father wanted after so long.
'Maybe he's going to order me to change my name so no one can associate me to him…or maybe…' A squeeze upon one of his hands caused Quatre to snap out of his thoughts. He looked down to see Trowa's larger hand in his clenched hands. He hadn't realized how tightly they were clasped until he saw how white his knuckles had become. He relaxed his hold a bit and looked up at Trowa and offered the brunette a grateful smile. Trowa offered the blonde a reassuring one in return.
The car came to stop and Quatre looked out to see the Winner Enterprise logo in front of a huge building. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Rashid got out of his driver's seat and opened the door for Quatre and Trowa. The pair followed the gigantic man to the elevators and to the topmost floor where a huge oak door faced them at the end of the hall.
"I'll just let Mr. Winner know that you've arrived." Rashid said before stepping into the office.
Quatre let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. He held onto Trowa's hand as if it were a lifeline.
"Quatre, relax. I won't let anything happen to you. And neither will Rashid." Trowa assured.
"I know…but I can't help it…" Quatre bit his lip.
Rashid stepped back out of the office, his face solemn. "Mr. Winner will see you now Quatre." Quatre, his hand still tightly intertwined with Trowa's, walked towards the door but Rashid placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Just you. He wants to speak to you alone."
The small boy immediately paled. "Wh-what?"
"No. I won't let him." Trowa stepped up next to his friend.
"But Mr. Winner will not see to you if you go with Quatre."
"Then we won't see him at all, right Quatre?" Trowa looked down at the boy.
"Just see to him, Quatre. We'll be right outside if anything happens." Rashid said, also looking at Quatre.
Quatre was staring at his shoes. Slowly, he looked up and nodded. "I'll see him." He released Trowa's hand and gave him a smile to comfort the taller boy. Quatre took a deep breath and stepped through the oak door. He walked towards the desk at the end of the room, stopping a few paces away from it. A huge chair's back was to the blonde but soon swiveled around to face him.
The old man sitting in the chair had aged incredulously to the point where he was no longer recognizable. His hair was a grayish-white with few strands of the former brown. His glasses were thicker than what they had once been. His face showed lines of years upon years of hard work. But the air around that man, the confident, strong, determined air, was still there.
"Quatre."
"Mr. Winner."
"It's been a long time, boy." He spat out that last word.
"It has."
"Nearly six."
Quatre remained silent.
"Do you know why I worked as hard as I did?" It was a rhetorical question. "I wanted to provide a good living for my family. I wanted for them what I didn't have for myself when I was growing up. And I worked hard for it. When things looked bad, I fought until they were good. All to keep you and your sister living under a good roof with enough food, clothing, whatever you needed." He looked Quatre up and down with his scrutinizing gaze. "And this is how you repay me, by becoming a pansy? A queer?"
By now, Quatre was shaking with fury. "We didn't need your work! We needed you! And it's not like I chose to be the way I am. I was born like this." Quatre suddenly didn't feel like sticking around anymore. "I'm sorry I never met up to your expectations, Mr. Winner, and I'm sorry I'm nothing but a big disappoint for you. I'll just leave and stay out of your life from here on out. But just remember, you're the one who invited me." Quatre turned around and headed for the door.
"QUATRE," Mr. Winner stood, fire in his eyes. "I am not through with you yet, boy."
Quatre spun and faced the old man. "But I'm through with you."
"Quatre." The boy in question stayed where he was, glaring at his so-called "father". "Think what you want, boy, but just know this. You are not a disappointment to me. You never were."
Quatre's face softened slightly, his jaw dropping a bit in shock. "But-wha?"
"Despite what I said those years ago, you are my son. Gay or not, you are Quatre Raberba Winner. My son."
They both let the words settle into the air. Soon after, Mr. Winner motion for a seat opposite his desk chair. Quatre settled into the chair, still gazing at the older man in wonderment. Mr. Winner took his seat, his eyes never leaving Quatre's.
"Six years is a long time to think, Quatre. And that's what I've been doing. Thinking. When the doctors had predicted that you were going to be a boy, I was so happy. Not because you'd be able to pass along the Winner name but because then I would be able to do the things with you that my father never did with me. So I worked to earn enough to do so. But I just kept working and working and soon enough, you had already grown. And then you told me about your homosexuality. I will admit that I am still somewhat uncomforted with that fact but back then I condoned it. It just didn't seem fit for a Winner. So I grew angry with you for it. But then, afterwards, I grew angry with myself." Mr. Winner sighed and shook his head. "Quatre, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for never being there for you. I'm sorry for being the worst father you could possibly imagine. Your mother would be so disappointed with me."
Quatre gaped, stunned that such words could come from the same man that had thrown him out onto a porch six years ago. "Why did it take you so long to come tell me?"
"I'm a man of pride, Quatre. It's hard for me to admit that I'm wrong. But I am admitting it now. I was wrong. I know that it will take you time to even consider forgiving me, but I do hope that one day you will find it in your heart to. I truly am sorry for what I've put you through."
Quatre leaped up from his seat and charged at his father into a hug. Caught by surprise, Mr. Winner slowly wrapped his arms around his son.
"That's another thing you don't know about me…Dad." Quatre said into his father's shoulder. "I'm a very forgiving person. And I forgive you so long as you call me your son once more."
Mr. Winner swiped something on his cheek. "My son." He held the boy in his arms tightly to emphasize his words.
Moments later, after relishing in the comforting embrace, Quatre returned to his seat and so did Mr. Winner.
"Quatre, in my old age, I'm beginning to worry about the future of my company. I fear that if I let one the board members take control, my business will collapse within the year. I've worked too long and too hard to see that happen. I want to entrust you with Winner Enterprise."
Quatre was once again shocked. "But, dad, I don't know anything about running a business like this. I'm a musician." Then, an idea struck Quatre's mind. "But I do know someone that would really benefit this place. He's extremely smart and very hard-working."
"Hmmm. I want to meet this person. Do you think you can arrange a meeting with your friend and I?" Quatre nodded. "Is he…you know."
Quatre cocked an eyebrow. "Does it matter?" The older man shifted in his seat. Quatre couldn't help but smile a bit at this. "Don't worry about it. He's not gay. In fact, he's married." Mr. Winner seemed to relax a bit. "He's also job hunting right now. I should give him a call before he leaves." The blonde motioned towards the phone on the desk. "May I?"
"Go right ahead."
As Quatre dialed the number for Dorothy's apartment, the sound of muffled yelling came from outside the office. Soon after, the door flew open revealing a determined Trowa. Upon seeing his best friend on the phone and a Mr. Winner staring at him curiously, Trowa cleared his throat, turned, and stepped back out, closing the door behind him.
"Who was that?" Mr. Winner asked.
"That's my friend Trowa."
"Hello?" A voice came upon the phone.
"Dorothy?" Quatre asked.
"Oh, hey Quatre sweetie. What's up?"
"I was hoping I could catch Wufei before he stepped out."
"Oh. He's right here. Hang on."
"…Hello?" came the Chinese boy's voice.
"Hey Wufei."
"Hello Quatre."
"You're still looking for a job, right?"
"Yes, how did you…Maxwell. I swear, that man has the biggest mouth…"
Quatre giggled. "Well, I think I may have found something for you. If you want, you can check it out today."
"Really? What is it?"
"A job at Winner Enterprise."
"What? Are you serious? You father's company is the most successful in the country."
"Is that a problem?"
"No! Of course not."
"Okay then. Just meet me here. I'll introduce you to my father."
"Quatre, I thought there was some…animosity…between you and him."
Quatre looked up at his father and smiled. "It's okay now. Everything's gonna be all right."
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Rahahahahaha! I own a leg that has just fallen asleep on me (I hate it when that happens) and not the GW characters.
Sorry this one took forever to get out. Vacation. And stuff. And there you go! Quatre and his dad are good now. It's a little...awkward...to me but it's good enough. Confused as to what was going on in the hallway that caused Trowa's sudden burst? Well I'm not! Ha! Maybe I'll make it a side story with what happened in Trowa's room the night before too. Yeah.
POULET!