A/N: There are three more chapters after this one. I had finished writing them back in 2009, but life went a little and I never got the chance to finish editing them. So I finishing editing now and hope to have the rest of the story up before the weekend is over.
I think the copy being posted was beta'd, but I have so many versions floating around, that it might not have been, so I am going to say if there are any issues, it is because I went ahead and edited my own work. Hopefully, I caught all the blaring mistakes.

There are some timeline issues... I know this. Though, the timeline as it is in this chapter is correct. I am going to go back and fix those as soon as possible, as well as add an official college days timeline in case anyone is interested.

Chapter 19 – Facts and Answers

(Quatre POV)

When I finally wake up, the plane has already been on the ground in Massachusetts for a few hours. I notice our chairs were reclined while we slept and blankets were placed on top of us. Trowa is still next to me and looks to be drifting in and out of dreams, so I leave him be and let him decide when he wants to wake up and get up to use the facilities and shower.

I must admit that the shower on board the plane is one of the many benefits of having a private jet. It can't be used while we're in flight, but it is so nice when we land to be able to use it and not need to check into a hotel where I have to sleep on a mattress countless others have slept on. It makes me feel icky just thinking about it. Say I'm spoiled if you want to, but really, how many people have had sex on those mattresses… bleh.

As I emerge from the shower, I see that someone has left the bag with my change of clothes right inside the door. I chuckle to myself, feeling stupid that I forgot to bring the bag in with me and glad that someone thought to bring it to me. There isn't a lot in the bag, a change of clothes and some toiletries, all of which I pull out and set down on the counter to arrange.

I get dressed, brush my hair and teeth and put everything away. As I am closing the zipper, Trowa comes walking in, his soft hair looking a bit unruly after sleeping, still looking like he is partially asleep.

"Morning." I say softly and wrap my arms around his waist.

"Mmm, need a shower." He mumbles as he wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder.

"Well, you are in the right place for that. I'll let you shower and I'll go see what's for breakfast."

Trowa nods, his head still on my shoulder. "Rashid has coffee ready. Auda is getting food."

"Sounds good." I kiss his exposed neck. "I'll see you in a few." Trowa nods again and loosens his grip on me just enough to slip free and get out the door. His bag is lying by where he was sleeping, so I grab it and place it in the bathroom before closing the door so he can have some privacy.

"Master Quatre." Rashid's deep voice fills the cabin.

"Good Morning Rashid." I turn to see him carrying a mug of coffee. "I trust all is well."
"It is, thank you." He hands me the mug, and I take a ginger sip, preparing myself for it to be so hot it is border line undrinkable. I am happy to say that it isn't too hot, in fact, it is perfect, and it is a blend I absolutely love. It has such a unique mix of tastes, both bitter and sweet. Simply perfect coffee.

Rashid stands next to me in a comfortable silence drinking his coffee, and I start to wonder how today is going to unfold. I pray it all goes well; that his family is accepting and understanding, but at the same time I mentally begin to prepare myself for the worst. The worst case that I can think of is being shunned by his family, and in my mind I can't think of anything worse than that. I don't know what would have happened if my family had not supported me. I know my father was, and I think still is to an extent, saddened by the news, but he has always been kind, loving and understanding.

I let a smile creep to my lips as I think of my family and the support they have always given me… "Young Master, I have brought breakfast." Auda announces loudly, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Oh, good." Trowa announces with a smile as he emerges from the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day. Then he looks to me, to the medium sized paper bag full of morning goodies, and then turns back to me his smile now more of a frown. "Mmm, maybe food isn't the best thing right now."

"Nervous?" I ask and take the bag from Auda, why he nods 'yes.' "You should put something in your stomach though, even if it is only a little bit of something." I cradle the bag in one hand and open it with the other. The smell that wafts from the bag is glorious an my mouth just starts to water with the smell of fresh breads and sweet pastries. "Bagel?" I pull a plain, still warm, bagel out of the bag and show my boyfriend. "Looks like there is some butter, cream cheese and jam in here as well.

"A plain bagel sounds good, maybe with a little butter." He takes it from my hand and I dig out the butter and another warm bagel, pumpernickel, for me. Just as I finished taking everything out of the bag, two plates are presented to me and I place my bagel on one and Trowa places his on the other. Rashid carriers the plates to the small table in the main cabin and Auda takes the bag and butter from me and places them next to the plates on the table.

I let Trowa go first and I watch his hand shake as he butters his bagel. I don't say anything, but when he puts down the knife I gently touch his hand reassuringly. He turns and looks at me with his big green eyes and I see how nervous and scared he is. I know I was scared when I went to tell my father, but I don't think I was this scared. What had happened to cause him to be this afraid of his parents? I lean in and place a lingering, loving kiss on his lips. "Try to eat something." I whisper, my lips brushing the smooth expanse of his cheek.

Trowa nods, lets out a shaky breath and pulls the buttered bagel apart into smaller pieces. "Master Quatre." Rashid reminds me of his presence in the room and I look at him with a slight nod of my head, motioning for him to continue. "The cars have arrived. We are able to leave when you are ready."

"Thank you Rashid, I think we're about ready to go." With a glance to Trowa, I pick up my bagel and take a bite out of it and revel in how good it tastes. I feel a bit bad because I know Trowa is too nervous to truly appreciate how good they are, but I do hope he finishs it.

"I'm ok to go Quatre, I'll bring the bagel with me to snack on while we drive there." He smiles and I know he is trying to push the thoughts from his mind that are causing him to shake.

"All right." With a brisk movement I turn to face Rashid, who looks a bit surprised by the suddenness of my action.

"I'll take point on the way there, Trowa will navigate for me, then we'll follow you and Auda back."

"Very well Master Quatre." Rashid and Auda both give a small bow signaling their understanding

"I'll be right back." I kiss Trowa and he gives me a quizzical look. "Later."

I motion for Rashid to follow me to the back of the cabin, he does without question, though I can feel the others' eyes on us as we do so.

Once in the back by the bulk head I drop my voice and begin talking in Arabic. Rude as anything, especially since, as far as I know, Trowa doesn't understand it at all.

"I want you and Auda to hang back a little, I don't want I to look like an invasion, but he's extremely nervous and a bit scared, and I don't take that as a good sign."

"Master Quatre, he is correct to be scared and nervous." Rashid gently reminds me.

I'm not exactly sure what he thinks about my relationship with Trowa, but for the most part he doesn't seem to mind. I never felt any ill will from him when I was dating Tristan, and it is the same with Trowa.

"I know, but there is an edge to it. I don't think anything will happen, but…I just don't have a good feeling about this."

Rashid nods and we return back to Trowa and Auda. The look on Auda's face matches that of Trowa, and I know that the only other person in the room that spoke Arabic hadn't heard. He seemed a little peeved about that, but he didn't say anything.

"What did you say?"

I smile and place another kiss on his lips. "Later, I promise, but don't worry about it for now."
Trowa opens his mouth to protest and stops, seeming to resign himself to wait until I tell him. I take his hand, grip it tightly and begin to pull him towards the exit to the plane. He seems confused at first and barely keeps himself from tripping over his own feet, but he catches himself gracefully and falls in pace with me.

The bright morning light hits me squarely as I step out onto the top of the stairs. I close my eyes instinctually and drop Trowa's hand so I can use both hands to shade my eyes. I'd forgotten my sunglasses, and since I almost never drove at my destination and the cars always had very dark tinted windows, I didn't have any backups stashed anywhere. Oh well, I can deal with that.
The sun is almost blinding and I curse them silently for not having taxied so that we would not be exiting into the rising sun as I carefully make my way down the stairs. By the time my feet touch pavement, I have more or less adjusted to the glaring light. Not that it is a long way down the stairs, just that my eyes adjusted quickly. Looking back at Trowa, I see he is having the same issues with the sun as I am and stand at the base of the stairs in case his eyes don't feel like adjusting as quickly as mine did.

He makes it to the bottom without any issues and I take his hand back at the earliest possible moment. I want him to know I'm here, that I support him, and that he can lean on me if he needs too. A man in black quickly approaches us and I startle at his brisk movements and panic a bit thinking that this man was going to do something horrible to me, even though I felt no malice from him at all.

"Quatre Winner?" I nod, not trusting myself to say anything rude to the man. He holds out a pair of keys to me. I look at the keys blankly and then at the man like he is crazy. "You had requested cars." He says slowly, still holding the set of keys out to me. "These belong to the metallic blue 7 series over there." I glance over at the cars and sure enough there is a metallic blue BMW 7 series parked there, with one of my men already inspecting it. I take the keys from the man's hand and thank him. He nods and wanders back to the car where two other men stand, all dressed similarly in crisp black suits and no color. It is like the Men In Black started a car service as a side business.
"Ready." I lean into Trowa and kiss his shoulder.

He shakes his head, his light brown hair dancing around his face. "Not really, but we're here." He runs his fingers through his hair to put it back in place.

I take his hand, our fingers interlacing, and lead the way to the car. My guard holds my door open for me and I give Trowa's hand a tight squeeze before separating so we could get in.

The sound of the doors closing make me jump and one look to my boyfriend and I know he will not be talking much on the trip to his parents house. So I let him be, knowing that if he needs to talk about what is about to happen he will.

I turn the key in the ignition and the BMW comes quietly to life. Sometimes, I miss the louder engines of older model performance vehicles. There is something about them that makes me giddy when I get in one and the engine roars to life. Oh well, today isn't a day for a muscle car anyway, this one will do just fine. I switch the transmission to manual, because I feel the need to have some control over something today, and take to the road. Luckily, we were able to use an airstrip about 30 miles away from his parent's house, which made it easier for me to get almost there without having him to navigate.

The thirty miles pass in silence. I did not want to fiddle with the radio, and Trowa does not seem all that interested in music at the moment, so I leave it be.

Fall is coming to Massachusetts and it reminds me quite a bit of Sanc. The trees are just beginning to think about changing colors as some already sport a yellow or red leaves here and there.
Over all the area where they live is beautiful with an air of peace about it. Hopefully, that peace will follow us into the development where the Barton house is.

"Trowa." I say as I pull into the entrance to the development and slowly follow the road around so I don't miss it, or almost miss it and risk having someone run into me.

"There." Trowa points to a drive way accented by low white fences and landscaped flower beds.
I nod and pull into the driveway, Rashid and Auda stop on the side of the road just before the driveway, allowing us enough privacy to do what we need to do, but within quick reach if the situation warranted it. Shifting the car into park, I look at Trowa and slowly our eyes meet. The level of nervousness in the car is reaching the point of tangibility and Trowa looks like he's about to lose the meager breakfast he had eaten. I reach over and squeeze his hand. "Hey, come on. We're here now, turning back really isn't an option."

He nods, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before leaning over, cupping the side of my face and resting his forehead on mine. "Whatever happens Quatre, know that I am in love you with you and I never ever want to hurt you."

"What…" Trowa cuts me off with a tender kiss before I can say anything more.

"Later." He kisses me again. "I promise." I nod obediently, not wishing to make his already difficult task any harder.

Just as he reaches for the door handle and makes to pull away, my brain catches up with the fact he just told me he is in love with me and I my stomach does happy somersaults. "Wait." I grab his sleeve and pull him back to me. "I love you too." We kiss once more, just as tender, but more lingering than the first two.

Trowa offers me a smile, but it is laced with sadness and I do not know how to read it. "Ok, time to get this over with." With a nod I get out of the car and he follows suit.

There appears to be a mutual understanding that we not to hold hands as we approach the house, though, I want nothing more than to do so. Instead, we walk so close together that our arms touch as we walk.

The walk up the three steps to the quaint little deck and to the front door are the most difficult I've ever made and I'm not even the one coming out. Trowa takes another deep breath and I give his hand a quick reassuring squeeze as he knocks on the door.

After a length of time that seems unbearably long, the door opens and my eyes go wide as I see Tristan's mother standing on the other side of the threshold. "Dear Allah." I whisper under my breath.

The screen door opens and Mrs. Barton looks from her son, then to me and back to Trowa. "Tristan, what is this faggot doing here?" She practically snarls and I feel like I've been punched hard in the stomach.

Trowa sets his jaw and his hands clench into tight fists. "So you know him?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Now get that trash off my property." Now I feel sick and the memories of Tristan's mother surface from when I was dating her son. She was sweet, kind and loving. I don't know where this woman came from, but there was no doubt in my mind that the woman in my memory and the one standing in front of me are the same person.

"Fine. Quatre will go back to the car." He looks at me for verification that this is okay and I give him a accepting nod. "And you and father will answer my questions."

"We have to do no such thing." She says, tilting her chin up in a condescending manner.

"I'm your fucking son and I deserve answers." Trowa all but shouts back, barely containing the rage I feel building up inside of him.

His mother snorts in annoyance and shuts the door in our faces. Before I can talk, Trowa has got my by the hand and is leading me back to the car. "What just happened?" I ask, my voice wavering as I do so.

Trowa gentle grasps both sides of my face and bring our heads together, repeating the gesture the he had just done in the car. "I don't know, but I need to find out." He replies in a hushed emotional voice. "There is a folder in the large thin pocket in my backpack, it is the dossier that Heero had Rashid send him on Tristan Barton. Read it? There was a bad accident right before the move here. I don't remember anything from my life in Sanc. So I need them to tell me why. Why they never told me anything. Though from their reaction to you, I have a pretty good idea of why. Please be here when I get back." He desperately pleads.

I can't help but chuckle softly at the absurdness of the request. "Why would I leave the man I love… The man I have loved since I was thirteen alone, far away from home with those people?" I nod to the house. "Your mother looks like the woman I used to know, but her attitude and personality are completely foreign."

A wave of agony emanates from Trowa and I wrap my arms around him and pull him close, he does in kind and clutches my shirt with both hands. "You have to do this, and when you're done, we'll leave this place and go home together and figure what little we need to figure out about us. Ok?"

Trowa nods and we exchange a needy reassuring kiss. "Come get me if I'm not out after a hour." He says, the tears in his eyes contradicting the smile on his face.

I cannot help but laugh. "I'll send Rashid in, but I'll follow. He's scarier than I am."

A genuine laugh escapes his lips. "Wish me luck."

"Always." I kiss him again and he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, about faces and sets his sights on the door. I watch him as he walks with slow, even steps towards the house that contains the secrets of a past he can't remember. When he gets to the doors he opens the screen door and before he tries the main door he looks over his shoulder at me. After I give him a reassuring nod, he turns his attention back to the door. It swings open with what appears to be little resistance and he disappears inside.

I wait until both doors close before returning to the driver's seat of the car. Once inside I pull Trowa's bag to me, open up the pocket he told me to and pull out the manila envelope within. In the process I notice an unopened box of cloves and a lighter and I smile. Probably not the best thing I could do right now, but fuck it! I pack the box and removed the cellophane wrapper, taking the time to smell the sweet, exotic scent of the cigarettes. I take one out, light it and take a long drag.

As I exhale slowly I look around for a place on the ground to read. Upon finding a nice grassy patch I take my clove and the folder and situate myself on the ground, place the folder in front of me and hold my breath as I open it. I am greeted with pictures of a Tristan from half a year old to today. I pull out the pictures from Sophomore year and one of the most recent one in the file and place them side by side. Now that they are next to each other, I wonder why I never put two and two together to begin with. Perhaps I am too close to the situation. That I had resigned myself to the fact that Tristan didn't want me as part of his life ever again. That those things, coupled with my own immense insecurity, made me blind to overwhelming similarities between the two.

Though there are obvious differences between the two faces. His nose is not the same as it was when he was a teenager, and he's aged several years. I put the two pictures aside, setting them on the ground next to the folder. I go through the rest of the pictures and flip through the file to get an idea of what all it covered. Another smaller folder catches my attention. It had 'Police Report' on the cover and Tristan's name on it. I flip it open and nearly lose my breakfast. A picture of a bloodied mass of a person is the top one in several photographs paper clipped to the back of the folder.

With shaky hands I remove the paperclip and flip the photo over. 'Tristan Alexander Barton AC 197, record of damage prior to medical treatment.' "Allah." I whisper. This happened two days after I last saw him. I flip through more of the pictures. Some are from the scene of the accident and what was left of the car Tristan was driving and the semi on its side. Allah, I don't know how he had survived that. Other pictures are of Tristan healing and the surgeries performed to repair the damage from the accident. Well, that explained the differences in the sixteen year old Tristan and the twenty year old.

I feel sick to my stomach after going through all the pictures and reading the report. Seems his parents had him transported to Boston Medical as soon as he became stable enough to travel, under the guise of transferring him to the foremost neurology specialist in the world. That makes me laugh, he would have done better on L4 with my family than going to the United States. I'll have to call my sisters and find out who they recommend for Trowa's memory loss.

It doesn't look like charges were ever brought against the driver of the semi for almost killing Tristan, which I find very odd since the police report says that the semi ran a red light while Tristan had a green one.

The other files go over his school records, including his transition to Sanc University this semester. I read all the contents of the folder and smoke four cloves in the process. When I finish I check my watch and quietly swear to myself as Trowa has now been inside the house for forty five minutes. I swear again and gather the contents of the folder I had strewn about me, and put them back in the folder. I halt momentarily when I hear the front door to the house slam with shutter rattling strength.

Quickly, I throw the folder into the car and rush over to Trowa who is storming towards me in a hurricane of emotions, his face glistening from tears in the early afternoon sun. As soon as I can reach him, I pull him to me and wrap my arms, holding him tight. He locks his arms around my waist and hugs me as if his life depended on it.

"Went that well?" I ask, attempting to lighten the mood, if only minutely.

A bitter laugh escapes his lips and he pulls back just enough to look in my eyes. "Well, I guess being disinherited is better than being dead."

"Disinherited?" I'm not happy with that news.

"Yes, as I am too old to disown." He takes a deep, shaky breath, exhales slowly and wipes his hands across his face in attempt to clear the tears away. "Can we get out of here now? I'll tell you what happened when we are far away from this place."

I nod and after a moment I frown. "I'll be right back." I glance over my shoulder and look at where Rashid is parked and nod towards the house, letting him know that I am about to head there in case he felt the need to be closer. I see a sharp nod and as I turn back around I see him making motions to get out of the car.

"Where are you going?" Trowa asks me with a furled brow and questioning eyes.

"To tell your parents off." I say and wiggle out of my boyfriend's tight embrace.

"Quatre it won't do any good. I can guarantee they aren't the people you once knew."

I offer him a weak smile. "I know, but it will make me feel better." I give him a reassuring kiss and walk up to the house.

Right as I am about to step onto the porch, Tristan's mother opens the doors and steps out. "You're not welcome here." She states with disgust in her voice.

"That much is obvious." I snidely reply.

"Then get your filthy selves off my property."

"Oh, I will. But not until you listen to what I have to say."

"That will not be happening."

"Yes, in fact, it will. Even if the men behind me have to restrain both you and your husband, you will at least hear my words, whether or not you listen will be up to you."

"Fine. Speak."

"First, I would like to express my condolences." She looks at me like I have three heads and I explain. "For the loss of your heart and your son. I feel sorry for you that you are so petty that you shun your only child because he's a homosexual. Which is something he cannot help, nor something that he can change. I feel sorry for you that you are so unhappy with your life that you cannot bear to see your son happy. He is a brilliant person, with a warm and caring heart, one that you will never again be touched by because it is easier for you to separate yourself than to accept him for the wonderful person he is."

Trowa's mother attempts to say something and I interrupt. "I'm not finished." I flash her a triumphant smirk and continue. "I feel pity for you pathetic people because your hatred runs so deep that you can't even put on a show of happiness. Your son has managed to land the richest and most eligible bachelor in all the world and colonies, and your hatred for us fags is so consuming that you can't even pretend to be happy for him. Imagine what my money could have gotten you, the parents of the man I love. I'll leave what that could have been up to your imagination." I practically sneer the last bit. I hate having to speak like that, but I do not think anything else would have been heard.

Now, time to switch gears you bitch. Never, ever mess with Quatre Winner! "Now for the business end of your decision." I begin in the coldest and most calculating voice I have. "You are to never approach your son again. If he wishes to contact you, he will, but you are to never initiate contact yourselves." I reach into my back pocket and pull out a small bill-fold and remove my business card. Yes, despite my wish to not be part of the business just yet, I have a card and a secretary. "You are going to collect all of Tristan's things and call this number, my secretary will arrange to have his things picked up and returned to Sanc. If she does not hear from you in a week, I will send some of my guard here and they will make sure all of his things are collected and sent back to Sanc."

I hand her my card and despite being slightly stunned she takes it without a word. "You have lost all rights to be part of your son's life and if you ever try to take him away from me again I will make sure you will regret all the things you did to him. And from the look of it, that list is fairly impressive and not all of it legal."

Her eyes narrow. "Is that a threat Mr. Winner."

"No, Mrs. Barton. That is a promise. And only a fool would take on the Winners." I make to turn away. "Oh, and if you intend on following through with disinheriting your son, please send any paperwork to the address on the card so that my lawyers may look at it. Good day." With that, I turn and walk back to the car and my boyfriend.

"Now I'm ready to go." I announce.

"What did you tell her?"

I lean in and kiss him. "I'll tell you everything later." I grab his hand and start walking backwards to the car. "Let's go home Trowa."