Title: The Devil Has Blue Eyes
By: Aina Song
Fandom(s): Gundam Wing
Genre: Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)
Rating: PG-15
Warning(s): Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.
Pairing(s): Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)
Reviews: Yes, please.
Author's Note: (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so without the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.
Teaser: He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…
Chapter Seventeen
That evening, Quatre stood awkwardly before his bedroom door, hesitating. His fingers fidgeted with the loose cuff dangling over his other hand. Cathy swept forth, expertly folding the cuff back and freeing his hand from the overly long sleeve, then deftly moved on to the other arm. "Don't worry," she whispered. "You really do look fine."
He gave a weak smile, tucking his hands into his pockets as she stepped behind him to make one last adjustment to his gypsy's tail. "I feel like an idiot."
"Well, you look like a modestly-dressed gentleman."
"You'll thank Trowa for the lend, won't you?" Quatre requested, hands smoothing nervously down the front of his clothes - a light blue cotton shirt with darker blue buttons down the front, and a pair of fine grey trousers, both borrowed. They were simple clothes, of course, but still in far better condition than what he had been wearing.
"He was only too glad to help." When a long minute had passed and Quatre still had not reached for the door, she laughed. "Go on! All this time you said you weren't afraid of them, so prove it and get out there."
Sucking in a deep breath, he resolutely stepped out into the hallway.
Downstairs, he paused outside the closed dining room door, checking himself over one more time before going in. Everyone's looks of acknowledgement and greeting changed as they saw how he was dressed. And although most were discreet, Quatre saw varying degrees of amazement in their faces.
But he was too happy to see Treize there to wonder what everyone thought. After the way they had parted that morning, the blond was pleased and hopeful at his presence.
Treize came forward to greet him, his hand coming up to rest lightly upon Quatre's shoulder. "Quatre Raberba," he said in a low voice. "You make me so proud."
"I'm relieved to see you here," the blond confessed.
They were still apart from the others, enough so that no one could hear their whispered words.
The hand gripping Quatre's shoulder squeezed briefly before dropping away. "I'm going to try; that is all I can promise you."
"It's all I ask," Quatre nodded.
Treize did seem different that night. He was still far too thin and pale, of course. But there was an air about him that couldn't be explained, and it gave Quatre hope for the future.
He was aware of everyone's eyes upon him as they walked across the floor. And Quatre was thankful for the security of his father's presence at his side.
Hiromi was the first to approach him. "Quatre Raberba," she said in a breathless voice. "You're striking - just as I knew you would be." Again he was surprised by her generosity when he should have expected resentment. Quatre was beginning to believe Cathy was wrong about this woman.
Zechs came forward, as well. "Sit with me, cherub," he said smoothly. There was quiet amusement in his silver eyes as he looked down at Quatre, and he chuckled softly. "I do admire your style."
Dorothy stood at Heero's side, and she stared at Quatre as though he was a creature from Hell. There was certainly no approval in her eyes. "I don't know what the fuss is about," she said shrilly. "The waif is dressed suitably for once… but from the looks of him, in someone's poor castoffs."
Treize stiffened and turned slowly to the blonde woman. "Never…" He fairly growled, "Never use that tone of voice again to my son, Dorothy. Must I remind you that this was his home long before it was yours?"
There was complete silence in the room, and Dorothy's face became pale and drawn. For a moment she continued to stare at Quatre, then slowly she lowered her eyes.
"Yes, Treize," she said, demurely. "Please accept my apologies."
"Your apology should be directed to Quatre Raberba, not to me," he ordered coldly.
Quatre heard her slow intake of air and saw the tremble of her full lips. She could hardly force herself to do it. "I… I apologize," she said, slowly, "if I offended you in any way. It was not my intention."
Treize turned and looked at everyone in the room. His head was lifted high, his shoulders straight. For the first time in what must have been years, he seemed in control of himself and his household, and Quatre knew it surprised everyone.
"This is as good a time as any to say this," he began forcefully. "Quatre Raberba is my son. I will hear no more discussions about whether he is or not. He is to be treated with the respect he deserves as the heir to this estate. And if there are any among you who cannot comply with kindness and loyalty, for whatever reason, then I would expect you to leave these premises as soon as possible." He stood stiffly, poised for opposition.
But there was none - only a stunned silence and a darting of eyes as everyone took in the meaning of his words. Quatre knew they were shocked, even as he was.
Heero watched them, his blue eyes narrowed and speculative. But he did not seemed surprised nor necessarily angered by Treize's blunt words.
Hiromi, as always the one to smooth things over, stepped forward with a bright smile and took Quatre's arm. "Well," she said cheerfully. "Now that that's settled, shall we have our dinner, before it grows cold?"
Treize smiled at her. His look at her was new - sweet, and full of gratitude - and Quatre was humbled by the idea that he had been the start of it.
Hiromi motioned Quatre toward a chair, and Zechs moved forward to sit quietly beside him. For the first few moments, the room was silent except for the clink of china and silver. Then on of the servants wheeled in a cart containing two silver buckets. In each was a glistening bottle of wine.
"Ah," Zechs breathed, a corner of his lips quirking back as he glanced sidelong at Quatre.
"The Cabernet?"
"Exactly."
The wine was poured into slim fluted glasses. Quatre watched carefully as the servants stopped at his father's chair; Treize placed his hand discreetly over his glass, reaching instead for a goblet of water.
Zechs lifted his glass toward the light, seeming to delight in the sparkle that played in the pale liquid depths. "To the vine," he toasted.
"To the vine," the others echoed.
"To the return of my son," Treize put in, saluting Quatre with his water glass.
"And to the Khushrenada family," Quatre added, a faint blush warming him beneath the collar.
He brought the glass to his lips. The wine, a clear salmon pink color, tasted spicy and had an oak-flavored scent that lingered on his tongue. Quatre did not swallow a second sip, instead placing the fluted glass down and pulling his own goblet of water closer. He knew he could never acquire a taste for the wine for which Zechs held such high regard. For Quatre, it fell into the same category as meat or coffee.
Zechs did not appear insulted by his reaction to the drink, however, instead quirking an amused brow at the fact that the younger blond had even tasted it in the first place.
The wine seemed to ease the tension around the table somewhat, and soon everyone was engaged in conversation.
Quatre watched Hiromi. She could not take her eyes off her husband's face. The blond hoped Treize would not disappoint her and risk erasing that look. She loved Treize; that much was plain for all to see. And Quatre saw such desperate longing in her eyes that he could scarcely bear to watch.
Treize soon tired, and when he and Hiromi left together shortly after dinner, Quatre felt the others were only too eager to follow. They could finally rid themselves of the awkward need to act as though nothing had happened.
Zechs had just moved his head closer to speak with Quatre, when Dorothy suddenly appeared. "Zechs," she said in a conspicuously coy voice, "I'm afraid the wine has gone to my head. Would you mind seeing me to my room?"
Zechs, always the poised and gracious gentleman, could not refuse. A corner of his lips quirking in a nearly unnoticeable grimace, he turned and offered Dorothy his arm.
Quatre left quickly, not giving Heero Yuy the opportunity to reproach him again. He went for a few minutes out onto the loggia to breathe in the warm aroma of the spring evening. He could hear a whippoorwill somewhere in the distance. Then another sound intruded on the quiet tranquil evening… the sound of a wolf's howling.
He fought back a sudden chill and went inside. He could almost feel the animal's glittering black eyes watching him from somewhere deep in the forest that surrounded the estate.
As usual, the hallway upstairs was dark and shadowy, the dim lights along the wall making little difference in the gloom. As he strode quickly toward his room, suddenly a figure loomed before him, catching him off-guard. He flinched with a short cry as the man grasped Quatre's arm and pulled him into a dark alcove not far from his room.
"I want to talk to you." Heero's voice was low and quiet in the darkness.
"What the hell are you doing?" Quatre hissed. "I nearly jumped out of my skin!"
The darker man did not answer right away, dragging the blond to his room and quickly inside, closing the door behind them.
"You've no right…!" Quatre had never seen him behave in this fierce, barely controlled manner, and it unnerved him.
"Tell me something," Heero commanded, his voice a menacing growl in the quiet of the room. He stepped closer to the blond. "What exactly is the game you're playing with Zechs?"
"What?"
"You heard me. Have you no idea what he must think after the way you threw yourself at him today? Not to mention what Missus Darlian must have thought. And tonight you seemed intent on continuing this charade."
"Th-threw myself? I did no such thing."
He turned abruptly and began to stalk across the room and back again. "I can't decide if you are compulsively brazen or merely a finicky, thoughtless child who…"
Quatre's hands fisted at his sides, the anger growing in him like a gathering storm. The other man's overbearingly arrogant manner made the heat rise within him until he thought he would explode. "Get out of my room," he muttered quietly. "I won't stand here and be subjected by you. My father-"
"Your father," Heero interrupted, biting off the words, "is not here at the moment. I am. And I have a bit of advice for you, gypsy boy."
Quatre reached behind him and caught his hand to the door, swinging it open. "Get out. I never asked for your advice, and I don't intend to listen to anything you have to say."
Suddenly the darker man loomed over him again, his arm pushing the door shut as he pulled Quatre around and drew the blond roughly back into the room.
"You'll listen," he growled. "You will listen. I want you to stay away from Zechs Merquise."
"I will not."
"Listen to me, you willful little… I care about Zechs as much as I do Treize Khushrenada. I will not have you play one of them against the other in some little game of cat-and-mouse." His hands clasped Quatre's arms tightly, shaking him. "Are you so eager to bestow your favors on someone that you would choose the first man you meet… one old enough to be your father?"
Quatre swallowed a sharp gasp, realizing fully what the other man suspected him of doing. His eyes stung wetly, and he felt himself growing angered beyond reason. He swung at him, and Heero caught his wrist in a tight fist, pulling the blond roughly against him.
"Are you certain an old man can make you happy, kawaii?" His voice was a warning whisper. "Does he make you tremble the way I do? Does he make you feel like this?"
His kiss stole Quatre's breath. The feel of Heero's lips on his seemed to burn into his very soul. Quatre told himself he hated Heero. Yet at the same time his traitorous body could not move away, and he found himself savoring the taste of Heero's kiss. The darker man's touch was sweetly tortuous… and totally unrelenting.
Quatre's hands, against his will, went to Heero's wild burgundy hair. He had secretly longed more than once to touch it, to feel its crisp, clean texture in his fingers. And now he could not resist. Heero was making him do things he did not understand, making him feel things he'd never felt before.
When Heero finally pulled away, he took both Quatre's wrists in his hands and held the blond's arms down at his sides, firmly setting some distance between them. His breathing was coarse and hard, and there was an element of astonishment in his darkly beautiful eyes.
"Damn you," he cursed softly. "Why did you have to come here?"
He stalked from Quatre's room, leaving the blond trembling uncontrollably. Just as he had on that very first night, Quatre fisted his arms and sank to his knees on the floor, staring at the closed door as tears swam in his eyes.
He realized how wrong he had been about himself… and about his feelings toward Heero Yuy.