Chapter 6: Minuet in B Minor

Trowa

As they stepped into the room, the bright light of the lab glared in the two boys' eyes. They blinked in surprise, much like newborns entering a new world for the first time. They stood there for a while, taking in the new atmosphere and looking at the rows of desks and students, arranged meticulously, obviously with the idea of bringing order to the 30 odd teenagers in the room. Yet the staff's efforts had failed miserably. Some of the students were dressed sloppily, displaying frayed jeans and old t-shirts. All save a few in the front looked half-asleep. However, as the class slowly realized that two newcomers were standing awkwardly in the front of the classroom, they started to look more alive. Whispers began to punctuate the previously undisturbed silence. The teacher droned on, oblivious. I decided I had to take action soon.

"Excuse me, Mr…."

I realized belatedly that I didn't remember or even know my teacher's name. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice. He was an ancient man of short stature. He cleared his throat gently, and then pronounced delightedly,

"Oh! Are you the new students then?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Well, then, let's have them!"

I was bewildered.

"Have what sir?"

He glanced at me disappointedly, as though I had failed to pick up on something fairly obvious and he was no longer sure about me.

"Well, your names, of course!"

"Oh…"

Suddenly, I felt panic-stricken. I didn't have a real name! Should I give him my alias? Only a few people in the world knew it was an alias. What if he discovered me? Fortunately, Quatre picked up on my distress, though it must have been difficult, since my features were schooled into a gentle frown. He broke in:

"This is Trowa Barton, and my name is Quatre Raberba. We are pleased to meet you all."

'Oh, thank God for Quatre,' I thought. I quickly reassured myself. He would not discover me for a fake, and even if he did, I had earned the name Trowa Barton. My closest friends knew me as Trowa. I had fought as Trowa Barton, effectively taking his place in history. The name was as much mine as it had been the original Trowa's.

"Very good!" exclaimed the enthusiastic little man. "I'm Mr. Jenkins. You may take your seats."

He gestured at two empty seats. One was in the middle, one in the back. Quatre, decisive as he was, took the middle one, leaving me with the back row. That suited me just fine. I didn't particularly like to be noticed. I sat down and took out one of the school-issued notebooks Mr. Leung had provided us with. I began to take notes.

Quatre

I had noticed Trowa's attack of anxiety and quickly stepped in to fill my usual role of Gundam Team spokesman. I chuckled quietly at the thought, but that really was what I was. I had to suppress a wince as I introduced myself. It hadn't really yet hit home that I was no longer Quatre Winner; that even my name had been taken away in disownment. But I supressed that train of thought quickly, mental discipline being one of my strengths. I couldn't afford to think about that now. I sat down to listen to the lecture, wondering absently why the students had seemed so bored when we came in. Mr. Jenkins seemed like a lovely man, really. The reason for the students' vacant stares became apparent almost immediately. Mr. Jenkins, while a delightful old man, was possessed of one of the qualities perhaps most disconcerting in a teacher: an utter dispassion for his subject. His voice, so enthusiastic and welcoming only moments before, dropped to a low drone as he returned to the subject at hand. It was hard even for Quatre, who had listened to many a political speech in his day, and was well practiced in the art of looking focused when actually bored out of his mind, to look as though he was paying attention. It didn't matter anyway. The doctors had made sure the pilots had a solid base in all sciences. This class was going to be very easy.

Later that day, the pilots exited English feeling fairly relieved. It looked like they would all be able to handle this school thing. With the exception of Quatre and Wufei, who had had tutoring all their lives, the gundam pilots could see that English was going to be one of their most troubling subjects. It was taught by an upright, conservative, middle-aged woman with a prim expression and whose half-moon glasses were her most distinctive feature. She was the type of teacher that normal students would describe as being strict, but the pilots viewed her as a fair, and in Wufei's case, honourable woman who was out to teach the students as best as she could.

"Wheew!" eclaimed Duo as he plopped down on one of the only free benches in the long rows of tables at the cafeteria. "I think I'm going to dread advanced physics!"

Advanced physics was taught by a bear of a man, Mr. Hagi, with whom Duo was already in trouble for his refusal to comply with the man's insistence that he cut his hair according to the school's dress code. He was trying to make light of it, but the strain of having to defend his braid in public showed on his face just the same. Too many bad memories had been brought back for him that morning. The pilots ate their nameless mush in uncomplaining, companionable silence. Howard's food on the peace million had been about a thousand times worse.

The silence was interrupted however, when Joshua approached from behind, accompanied by another boy of diminutive stature. When he spoke, though it was soft, it made Duo, who had been absorbed in his angry thoughts about how he had to keep his braid, jump and turn around, fists raised, ready to render a crushing blow upon an unfortunate person.

Joshua's companion started violently, whimpering slightly with fright.

"Whoa, man, sorry, I didn't know it was you." Duo's reply was laden with regret, now that he had seen the effect he was having on the vulnerable looking boy at Joshua's side. Joshua wrapped a steadying arm around his friend's shoulders. He seemed used to weird reactions, after all, they were in a school for the traumatized.

"It's okay, Robbie. These guys are nice, he just made a mistake." Robbie nodded slowly in acknowledgment, a slow smile spreading across his face in greeting.

"Duo, you let your guard down," Heero admonished quietly, "You shouldn't have been startled."

Duo nodded.

"I know."

And that was the end of it.

Unfazed by this outlandish behaviour, Joshua told Duo to budge up and took a seat, with Robbie sitting next to him.

"This is my best friend, Robbie."

"Hn," said Heero sociably, unable to think of anything to say at this pronouncement.

"Hi! Nice to meet'cha!" said Duo, injecting enough friendliness into his voice to cover for Heero, who was often lost in social situations.

Trowa nodded, smiling strainedly, as though the expression was foreign on his face. (Which it was).

Wufei responded with a polite "Hello," with a slight incline to his head.

Quatre resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friends behaviour. "Hello, I'm Quatre, this is Trowa, Duo, Wufei, and Heero." He pointed to each of his friends in turn.

"How were you guys' first classes?" enquired Joshua.

Refastening his mask, Duo took his place as the joker of the group, and launched into a long and humourous account of their advanced physics class, during which he had antagonized the teacher. Then Robbie spoke for the first time.

"I wouldn't get on Mr. Hagi's bad side. He's a pretty scary guy when he gets mad."

Duo blinked and recalled that the man had lost control of his temper and yelled at him, about 6 inches away from his face, that he would cut that damn hair of his and soon, and in the mean time he would stop this impertinence right now! Duo had been showered with spit, but he had been utterly unimpressed, and not intimidated at all. He winked at Robbie, and said,

"Thanks for the advise, man, but I think I can handle the overgrown bat."

Duo looked sadly at the boy, who all but flinched when he referred to the man so disrespectfully. The poor kid had to have been through something awful to be that afraid of people. In fact, he almost reminded him of some of the younger kids from the Maxwell Church. Not from his street gang, of course. Anyone on the street had to be hard as nails by age 6 or they would be dead within a week…The bell's insistent ring interrupted Duo's train of thought, which was just as well, considering how depressed he was becoming. The little group split up, everyone going to their respective language classes.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, too quickly for Duo, who definitely was not looking forward to his individual therapy session at 4:00. 'Dr. Gus Johnson! Who names their kid Gus Johnson?' Bemoaning Dr. Johnson's name was not going to make time pass any less quickly, however, and after a good luck hug from Quatre, and an encouraging smile from Heero, he was off to therapy. On his way, he thought to himself.

'Well, I never thought I'd live long enough to need or even get therapy, so I'll consider myself lucky.' Even so, as he trod through the halls slowly as he could toward the door that bore the proud lettering "DR. GUS JOHNSON" in block letters, he struggled with the familiar feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Dr. Gus Johnson sat at his desk, mulling over this next student's file. Duo Maxwell, it said. The only information about his past that was provided was the fact that he had been a gundam pilot. Even so, with that little amount of information, he could tell that this Duo would be a tough patient to deal with. This would be no ordinary grief counseling, that was for sure. He had dealt with under-aged soldiers before, but not with anybody who had been so closely involved in the war effort. Well, he thought to himself wryly, I have five of them this time, I'd better get to work. So when he heard the tentative knocking on his door, and saw the slim silhouette of Duo Maxwell, Gundam Pilot, standing outside his door, he steeled himself. 'Okay, Gus,' he said to himself, 'treat him just as you would any other student. He won't like special treatment.' And as he uttered the words that were to be the beginning of it all, he felt a strange calm envelope him.

"Come in."