***

    I recall a line from Quatre’s biography, a direct quote….

    I don’t recall the rest of the quote, but I wrote it down and I keep it in my notebook.

    I debated making a background of it with a small medley of pictures of the five pilots, but I thought then people might think I was a bit excessive.

    There’s another loud burst of shouting from downstairs.

    Jimmie wakes with a start, ears pricking.

    I get out of bed, Jimmie following, and walk quietly down the hall. The lights downstairs are still on, and it’s well after three. As I pass the door to Mark’s bedroom, it opens a crack and he peeks out at me. “You should be in bed,” he says as soon as I look at him.

    “Look who’s talking,” I reply, picking him up and settling him on my hip. “Why are you awake?”

    “The… shouting,” he says in a glum voice.

    “It is kinda loud out here, huh Mark?” he nods and looks down at his hands on my shirt. “Well let me tuck you back into bed, I think you can take some more medicine, and then I’ll go and ask mom and dad to keep it down.”

    Mark nods, grateful, and I take him back into his room, cracking the window a little to get rid of the stuffiness. Jimmie sits patiently at the door, having been shooed out of the room by mother doubtlessly countless times throughout the day.

    I give Mark his pills and pull the covers up to his chin. His eyes are already drooping shut.

    “Don’t I get a story?” Mark asks weakly.

    “If you sleep now, I’ll tell you about Heero Yuy in the tomorrow.”

    “Promise?” he asks, coughing.

    I nod and he closes his eyes, turning onto one side.

***

    I look downstairs from between the railing and see the two of them in the kitchen. Mom keeps glancing up towards the direction of Mark’s room worriedly, and Dad’s face is an angry red.

“Ellen I am not lying to you, for the last time!” he shouts.

    “Keep your voice down, Mark is sick,” her voice is a calm whisper, intense and lethal.

    I hate hearing her use that voice. It means she’s severely upset with something and is keeping a close hold on her temper. I sometimes wonder if that’s from some part of her ancestry that I don’t know about. Her parents and grandparents died long before I was old enough to meet and remember them. She said once that I looked a lot like one of her brothers, but she never did tell me which one, and I’ve never met any of them either.

    “Ellen, what is there to talk about? I told you what happened, I’ve been telling you all evening.” He sinks into a chair, back facing me.

    “Look, we’re both tired,” she stresses that word and glances up at the stairwell, seeing me finally. “Let’s just go to bed and worry about it in the morning.”

    “What are you…” dad turns and follows her gaze, meeting my eyes in the dim light and jumping up with the small cry of, “Jeremy! What are you doing out of bed?”

    Quietly I stand and come down the stairs, even though they obviously don’t want me to. “I can hear you guys arguing all the way in my room, and Mark woke up.”

    Mom looks like she’s loosing her grip on herself, but I can see her force herself to relax as she says, “Well then it’s definitely time we all get some sleep, don’t you think, Samuel?”

    She never uses dad’s full name, she must be really upset. I glance at her but she glares me silent. It still works, even after all this time. “Jeremy, go back to bed, please.”

    I lock gazes with my father for another moment before turning and heading back upstairs. Mom glances at him as well before following me, leaving him alone in the dimly lit kitchen.

***

    Nine a.m. is too, too soon.

    I hit the alarm clock and hear a sneeze.

    Jimmie…

    Trish’s track meet!

    I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom, showering quickly and brushing my teeth as I get dressed. The door to mom and dad’s room is closed and there isn’t a noise in the hallway. I check in on Mark and give him his morning medicine. He falls right back to sleep, which I take as a good sign, and leave mom a note on the calendar about the time.

    Jimmie’s tagging along at my heels as I make it down to the kitchen and grab a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Heading back upstairs I grab his leash and, doubtfully, pass over Maxwell’s autobiography and take one of the other required reading books.

    On my way downstairs again to get a can of Coke I pass mom. She stops me and hands me a fifty absently, “For the vet… I called ahead.”

    She is putting on her coat and I don’t see the big bulge of her key ring for work. “Where are you going, mom?”

    “I’m going to check out the rigging they hung last night. I was supposed to go in and inspect it after the two of you fell asleep but…” she lets the end of her sentence trail off and I nod. “Look,” she stops as she reaches for her key ring and turns to me. “No matter what happens with your father… he’s still your father.”

    “And nothing that happens between the two of you is our fault?” I respond with an edge to my voice. “I’m old enough that I know your marital problems aren’t my fault, mom.”

    “I… I know you are, Jeremy,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders and then putting one up to my cheek. I like that she never calls me ‘sweetheart’ or ‘kiddo’ like some people’s parents call them. Sure, it can be considered callous, I suppose, but it’s just that my mom isn’t very affectionate.

    I give her a hug and then say, “I’ve got to get going, Jimmie’s appointment is for ten, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah,” she says, holding the front door open for the two of us. “Climb in and I’ll drive the two of you over there. You’ll have to get to the track meet on your own though, I probably won’t be back until late.”

***

    Trish takes first in the 50, the 100, and then because of her handoff’s spraining an ankle in the middle of her stretch, they get a second in the relay. Afterwards she comes over and hugs me, petting Jimmie and inquiring, “How’s he doing?”

    I set aside Black’s book and pat the seat next to me. She shakes her head and starts cool down exercises as we continue to talk.

    “The vet said he’s just got the common cold, and that’s it isn’t too uncommon in dogs of his age.” Jimmie nudges my leg and curls up at my feet. “I’m almost more worried about Mark though.”

    “How is he?”

    “He’d be better if my parents hadn’t woken him up at three arguing last night.”

    She stops, knowing the situation in my house as well as possible. “So he didn’t get any sleep?” her voice is concerned.

    “No, he finally did, but I’ve got to tell him a story about… Heero Yuy…” my voice trails off. What do I tell my little brother about the so-called Perfect Soldier now? Yeah Mark, he was gay and sleeping with Duo Maxwell, how cool is that?

    “Jeremy?” she asks, waving a hand in front of my face. “Hey, Jeremy!”

    I blink and look at her. “Huh?”

    “My thoughts exactly,” she responds dryly. “What’s wrong?”

    “Did you know that he and…” I choke on the phrase before it can get past my lips.

    “He and… and what, Jeremy?” she leans forward in her stretch to put a hand on my knee. “What’s wrong, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

    “He and Duo Maxwell were…”

    “Best friends?” she asks. “Oh sure, everybody knows that.”

    “Lovers?” I finish, finally spitting the words out distastefully.

    She pauses for a moment as though reviewing the facts in her mind. “Probably.”

    “No, not probably!” I say, standing up. Jimmie scrambles to his feet as well. “They were, and that’s the truth of the situation, straight from Maxwell’s autobiography.”

    “So they weren’t the saviors you thought they were?” her tone is low. “They didn’t really save the earth, twice, and they didn’t restore peace for people like you and me to live and grow up in?”

    “That’s not what I said,” I say immediately. “It isn’t what I said.”

    “No, but it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” she is getting defensive. Why is she getting defensive?

    “Trish, what’s… what’s gotten into you?”

    “So what if the two of them were homosexuals?” she says evenly, standing up and looking across at me. “Does that mean we shouldn’t still respect them? Does the fact that the two of them fell in love with each other mean that they should be any less revered or appreciated for their deeds?”