Warnings: ah, depression. Poor Quatre. And of course, there’s some degree of my ongoing Trowa-torture, though it’s really muted in comparison to other chapters.
Disclaimer: As much as I hate saying this, Gundam Wing isn’t mine. It belongs to Sunrise, the Sotsu Agency, Bandai, and probably a gazillion others.
C&C? Welcome, as ever!
From Forever to Forever
Part Eleven: In Sickness
April 13th, A.C. 209—Quatre Winner—8:12 a.m.
I hate flying—in airplanes, small spacecrafts, large inter-colonial shuttles—it doesn’t matter. I can’t stand it. And it’s not that I’m afraid of crashing; I don’t fear my own death. It’s just that every time I fly, I wonder what it was like for Silvia when her shuttle went down. Did she know what was going on? Did she think of Maja or me? Did she cry? I hate thinking about it.
It’s almost humorous, knowing that I used to pilot numerous aircraft.
My fingers grip the arm rests as the shuttle begins rumbling in preparation for the launch. Maja looks up at me with laughter in her eyes. She must think I’m crazy.
"So who all’s supposed to be there?" she asks, turning back to the window. "Other than you and me and Trowa."
I glance across the aisle at Trowa, who has already stretched out for a flight-long nap. Maja’s been fairly attached to him since he moved to our colony, shortly after Silvia’s memorial service. Really, he’s been a savior.
Maja tugs on my arm impatiently.
"Let’s see," I begin, "It’ll be Duo and Hilde and Judas and Tresa, of course."
Maja rolls her eyes. "Of course the twins’ll be there, Daddy. It’s their birthday."
I ignore her, smiling slightly. "And Heero’s bringing Irina."
"Will Relena be there?" she asks with wide eyes. For some reason, Relena has managed to charm the children. I think it’s the same charisma that’s kept her political role secure.
I shrug. "I hope so. WuFei and Sally might be there, too. Plus all of their friends from school will be there for part of the time."
Maja sighs contentedly, leaning back against the leather seat. "I think I’m gonna go to sleep, too. Will you tell me a story?"
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Last night you said you were too old for bedtime stories."
She smiles and closes her eyes. "Well, it’s not bedtime, is it? Tell me about how you and mom fell in love."
"Don’t you ever get tired of this story?"
She shakes her head, and I begin.
"Well, it all started when I left the Preventors temporarily in order to take over my family’s business. I was on a business trip, flying down to Earth to finance a new project, and there was a really beautiful girl sitting across the aisle from me. She was standing up, reaching for something in the overhead compartment, when she lost her balance and fell onto me."
Maja giggles, sounding almost exactly like Silvia did that day.
"And of course, I was instantly smitten."
"Was she?" Maja asks with a yawn. Her eyes drift shut.
I shrug. "I suppose she was. We ran into each other at the spaceport after the flight, and she asked me if I had any plans for dinner. So I told her that I didn’t, and then immediately went to a telephone and cancelled all my plans for that evening."
"And then what happened?" she asks, her eyes popping open again. She has a mischievous expression. For a moment I wonder just how much of this story Silvia had told her. I shake my head. No, she’s only eight.
"We went out for dinner, and were really upset that our schedules wouldn’t really give us a chance to meet again. But over the next week we kept running into each other at our business meetings and corporate dinners, as well as some of our favorite places. So one night, after an opera performance, I waited outside her box and asked her to come to a late dinner with me. From that moment on we were inseparable. I asked her to marry me that night."
"I love that story," Maja sighs happily. "But I don’t think I can sleep."
I fish around in her backpack, pulling out an old worn-out book. "Here—read for a little while, then." She accepts the book with a grin—it’s A Little Princess—her favorite.
She settles into the seat, drawing her knees up to her chest as soon as the "fasten seatbelts" sign flashes off. I remove my belt as well, glad that the launch is over.
"I’ve never heard that story before," Trowa says softly, smiling slightly.
"I didn’t know you were awake."
He nods. "It was part of the plan."
"Plan?"
He nods again, his smile broadening. "Maja said that you hated flights, so I suggested that she distract you. The rest was her idea. And it looks like it was fairly successful."
I shake my head in disbelief. "I can’t believe I was outsmarted by my own daughter."
Trowa laughs; the sound is even more musical than my violin. "Just wait—I have a feeling this won’t be the only time. She’s a clever little one." He leans against the back of his chair again, closing his eyes. Remnants of a smile still show on his face, bringing a similar grin to my own lips.
April 13th—Relena Darlian—3:32 p.m.
"Is that better?" I ask, putting a band-aid on Maja’s scraped knee.
She straightens her leg, checking how much the bandage will hinder her range of motion. Her face twists with a grimace of pain, but she doesn’t cry out. She’s a brave little girl; she almost seems like a female version of her father. "I think it’ll be okay," she says, hopping down from her perch on the kitchen table. "Thank you, Relena."
Before she can make it to the kitchen door, Hilde blocks the exit. "Now wait a minute, young ‘un. You never mentioned exactly how this knee got so scraped up."
Maja flushes noticeably, looking back and forth between Hilde and me. "It was a dare."
Hilde raises her eyebrows slightly and I cover my smile with one hand.
Maja’s gaze returns to the floor. "I was climbing out on the roof and I slipped on some slate."
My god! An eight-year-old girl climbing on the roof of a house?!
Hilde crosses her arms. "Which of them put you up to it?" Her question is met with silence. "I know it was either Tresa or Judas. Any time friends stay over, they dare them to do things like this." She turns to me, her voice lower. "Of course, most of the children have the common sense to stay on the ground."
Maja, hearing this, looks indignant. "It was just the porch roof. I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble." When she sees that Hilde still wants an answer, she gets a sulky expression on her pretty face. "It was Tresa."
Hilde moves out of the way, letting the little girl pass. Then she quickly follows, calling Tresa’s name in a stern voice.
Before I can sit down to finish my coffee, Sally bursts through the door, a huge smile on her face. "You won’t believe what’s going on."
"Are you talking whatever punishment Hilde’s dealt out to Tresa?"
Sally shakes her head. "No. This is nothing short of amazing. You have to see it." She takes me by the arm and practically drags me into the living room, where the birthday party has progressed to organized party games. I look around for Heero and find him sitting in the window seat, looking at a book with Irina. Trowa is sitting with Quatre, who has his eye on a very sulky little daughter. She must’ve gotten in trouble. I note that Tresa and Hilde are nowhere in sight.
Suddenly a voice catches my attention. Judas calls out, "Left foot, yellow!" My eyes move over toward the far end of the room, where a game of Twister is taking place.
WuFei is playing.
Duo and the children are twisted around him, balancing precariously beneath and over him. He growls. His untied hair keeps falling into his face, no matter how many times he blows it back with a puff of air. It only adds to his frustrations. "There’s no way I can reach yellow," he complains with a glare at Duo, who is blatantly laughing at his opponent.
I giggle, watching him play the game. It’s so unlike him. Yet, lately WuFei has become a new person it seems—or maybe it’s an old person, finally shining through. He no longer speaks of justice. He left the Preventors shortly after Silvia’s death. And now, to see him not only at this birthday party, but playing with the children—I can understand why Sally is so amused.
"Left hand, blue!" Judas calls, snickering as his father gets tangled between WuFei’s arms.
"If you fall on these kids, Maxwell, I’ll kill you myself," WuFei threatens.
"Don’t worry," Duo replies. "I happen to be a master at Twister."
Heero snickers from across the room. "I don’t think I want to know."
Duo smirks, his face close to WuFei’s as his legs are twisted beneath him. "Yeah—just ask Hilde."
With a gasp, WuFei loses his balance, falling backward onto several kids. He jumps to his feet, checking to see if the others were hurt. Everyone seems okay, so he turns to Duo with clenched fists. "That was not—"
"Fair?" Duo asks with a smirk. "Just?" He looks around at his opponents who are still collapsed on the floor. "Nyah—but I won."
WuFei huffs slightly, ignoring Sally’s laughter.
I guess some things don’t change.
April 13th—Trowa Barton—5:23 p.m.
After the last guest leaves, Hilde comes over to my side. "Thanks for coming, Trowa," she says with a smile. "It’s nice to see you again; the kids have been crazy since you moved."
I shake my head, returning her smile. "They were crazy before I left."
She laughs. "I suppose. Anyway—I wanted to know if you’d like to stay for dinner. Heero and Relena need to take off, but I thought the rest of us could hang out for a little while."
I don’t know if Quatre’s planning on heading back tonight or not, but I’d like to stay. "Sure—I’d like that."
She frowns slightly, her expression growing serious. "Can I ask you something?" After I nod, she continues. "How has Quatre been doing? Tell me honestly—he says he’s fine, but I don’t think so."
I shrug. "It varies. Sometimes he acts like nothing has changed. Other times he’ll drown himself in his work. He’s even become preoccupied with politics—I think he’s trying to pick up where Silvia left off." I don’t mention the long business trips, when he leaves Maja with me. Or the way his eyes look so . . . empty. Dull.
She nods, her eyes full of sympathy. "You’ll take care of them, though?"
I smile sadly. "That’s why I moved out there. I think Silvia would’ve wanted someone to make sure they were all right."
She pats my hand in a gentle, motherly way that reminds me of all the things I love about her, and crosses the room to talk to WuFei and Sally. I glance around, searching for Quatre. Maja’s still here, coloring at the table with Judas, so I know he hasn’t left.
There’s only one clear option—he’s run off to take a business call. He does this all the time.
I make my way down the hall to the tiny room Hilde uses as her office. But as I lean against the door, I don’t hear anyone speaking. Maybe he’s not in here. I open the door a crack to see his golden head bent over the desk, clutching a small picture frame in his hands.
I enter quietly, but he looks up, hurriedly wiping his eyes. He’s been in here crying by himself?
"I guess I’ve been gone a long time, huh?" he asks, his voice barely under control.
I sit down in the overstuffed chair next to the desk. "I was wondering where you’d run off to."
He looks down at the photograph—a picture of Silvia and Quatre taken at Duo’s and Hilde’s wedding. They look happy. Beautiful. His thumb lightly runs over Silvia’s image, a pained smile crossing his face. "You know, she normally wore heels whenever we went out—just to be taller than me and annoy me. But since she was pregnant, I teased her because she couldn’t do it that time."
He sighs, setting the picture back on the desk. "Who would’ve thought it would all end? Ten years of marriage. Not even ten, really."
I don’t answer him. What do you say to someone who has lost the most important thing in his life? I stand up and cross the room, sitting on the desk instead.
He looks up at me. "You know—everyone predicted our marriage wouldn’t last," he says with a bitter laugh. "We married on a whim—we were the only ones who expected it to work out. We always ignored everyone, thinking that it would take a lot to separate us. Hell—I can remember the way she looked at me as we were reciting our marriage vows. When I got to "until death do us part," she gave me this knowing smile—she was thinking that even death wouldn’t part us."
"It hasn’t really, has it?" I ask, my voice low. It hurts me to see him like this.
He doesn’t answer. I doubt he even heard me. "Ten years," he whispers. "I got to spend ten years with her. Do you realize that it was only one-third of her life? We were supposed to grow old together—retire together, dance with each other at Maja’s wedding—everything. And none of it will happen."
He stands, leaning on the desk and hanging his head. I think he’s crying again.
"And the worst thing," he begins with a shaky voice, "is that the more years I live, the less of my life I will have spent with her." He sounds desperate. He looks up at me, his turquoise eyes bright with tears.
My heart constricts at the sight of him; he’s never been so openly vulnerable. Normally he’s too busy trying to pull his and Maja’s lives back together. But now—his desperation frightens me.
I slide off the desk, bracing his shoulders with my hands. "Quatre," I growl protectively. "What are you saying?"
He averts his eyes, mumbling incoherently.
An icy stream of fear trickles through me. I close my eyes tightly, wishing that I didn’t believe what I suddenly knew to be true. "You aren’t—" I can’t even bring myself to say it. The idea is incomprehensible—too painful to give serious thought to.
Quatre forces a laugh. It sounds weak and desperate. "No," he protests, trying to smile. "God, Trowa, nothing like that." His voice cracks.
My heart breaks.
He clenches his fists, looking away as fresh tears betray his lie.
It takes me less than three steps to reach him. For the first time ever, I don’t second-guess myself as I yank his trembling figure into my arms. Holding his head against my shoulder, I swallow the lump in my throat. How did this happen? How did this get so far without my knowing? "Damn it, Quatre," I say into his hair. "Don’t you know that without you, we’d all be lost?"
He slips his arms around me and holds on.
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