Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Buckets ( Chapter 55 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 55/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:
http://www.atsui.org
http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/gw /Mookie/gwmookie.htm

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

Chapter 55 - Buckets

"I will make a guess. He kissed you, did he not?"

"Eh bien, monsieur, and after all? What is a kiss?"

- Conversation between Hercule Poirot and the 'pretty French maid' in Agatha Christie's The Submarine Plans

~~~~~

The next morning Heero woke first. They'd fallen asleep on the sofa for a short time, at least Heero had. He wasn't certain about his roommate. It had just felt good to feel the fingers running through his hair, to feel the warm body next to his.

He had actually given a passing thought to testing the waters to see if Quatre's invitation was still open. Then he'd considered just asking Quatre if they could sleep together, without doing anything.

In the end, they went to their respective rooms alone. In the light of day, Heero was a bit disgusted with himself, not for wanting to yield to the temptation that Quatre continued to present, but for the neediness he'd felt when he imagined sleeping alone. He'd spent one week sharing Duo's bed, and now his tiny twin mattress seemed far too large for him.

He imagined that the familiarity of his own bed, back home, would go a long way toward dispelling that childish craving for a bedtime companion. He smiled slightly. If that failed, perhaps he could get a teddy bear. That would go over real well if anyone at the office found out.

Had he ever felt at home here, in the apartment with Quatre? He pondered this as he took a quick shower under barely lukewarm water.

He decided he had. It had only seemed like home when they were both there, however. Otherwise it was just a place to hold the few things he'd acquired or brought with him to Los Angeles.

Neither he nor Quatre ever brought a client to the apartment. There was something sacred about this place, something that would be sullied beyond repair. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep in a bed where he'd allowed a john to ram a dick up his ass.

He sighed. That was just one more example of how different things had been with Duo.

Quatre was waiting for the shower as soon as he walked out with a towel around his waist. His time in the bathroom was even shorter than Heero's, and in under half an hour, they were both dressed and sitting at the kitchen table. Heero was sipping at a glass of tomato juice, wondering which of them was going to break the silence first.

A blue jay outside their partly open window spurned Quatre into action. He sighed and got up, jerking the window up all the way and poking his head out. He looked toward the apartment to the left of theirs before withdrawing.

"It's that woman next door," he said. "She's throwing bread out the window again."

Heero had been quite surprised, when he'd first moved in with Quatre, that the blond didn't know everyone in the building by name, considering his gregarious nature at the bar. He'd learned quite a bit about the young man in the few months they'd lived together.

"Did you know," Heero said thoughtfully, "that seeing a blue jay playing near your home is a sign of fun and good times to come?"

Quatre snorted. "I don't now if I'd consider a freeloading bird to be playing, or if I'd consider this to be..."

It was eerie, Heero decided, the way Quatre also seemed to struggle with the idea of calling the apartment 'home' - especially as he'd been there all week by himself. Quatre certainly didn't hold the monopoly on guilt.

"You planning on making a habit of wearing my clothes?" Heero teased, hoping to lighten the mood. Anything to keep from falling back into the introspective abyss he'd been in a good portion of the previous day.

Quatre smiled at him brightly. "You're just jealous because it looks better on me."

This time he was wearing the suit Heero had gotten at Prada Men almost a week ago. Heero had to admit, it did look very good on Quatre.

"Big plans this morning?"

"I'm meeting my father for breakfast," Quatre said, then realized that he and Heero hadn't talked about anything since they'd met at the Tiara the previous day.

Heero already had that questioning look on his face that Quatre still found endearing.

Quatre went to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water, knowing his mouth would become dry by the time he was done talking.

"When I got back here yesterday, right from the hotel, he was waiting for me outside the apartment. I don't yet know how he found where I was living, but Iria had the number to the bar, so it's a safe bet that helped narrow it down to Los Angeles."

Heero nodded. He'd often thought it curious that Iria had never seemed to pursue locating her brother, especially considering how frantic she'd seemed lately, calling twice as often. Trowa had the patience of a saint to keep fielding all her calls for Quatre.

"Apparently the reason Iria had been trying to reach me was to inform me that our father was coming to LA for a meeting."

Quatre frowned even as he said the words. That didn't seem right to him, because he'd known Iria had been downright concerned. Worried about him. It didn't jibe with the fact that his father had arrived, as shocked as he'd been.

"The suit," Heero commented.

Quatre nodded. "I'm sorry I took the liberty of borrowing it without permission, but things happened pretty damn fast. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard myself volunteer to attend the meeting in his place, but you could have knocked me over with a feather when he agreed. Heero, I knew nothing about what was going on, but he handed me some paperwork and said he trusted me. He wants a full report this morning."

Heero nodded, then something clicked.

"Quatre Raberba Winner," he said slowly.

"Yeeess," Quatre agreed, looking at Heero. Suddenly Heero started laughing. He threw back his head and laughed so hard a tear rolled down his face. Eventually Quatre joined him, not completely sure he knew if the reason Heero was laughing was the same reason he was.

Heero stopped and reached for Quatre's bottled water, then took a long swallow before placing in back in front of his roommate.

"You were at a business meeting, representing Winner Industries. On a Sunday. In Los Angeles. Perhaps with Milliardo and Relena Peacecraft, Wufei Chang, and Duo Maxwell?"

Heero's voice was still a bit ragged from his bout of laughter, but Quatre didn't fail to notice the way his voice went a bit hoarse at the end.

"It was you," he said quietly. "He thought I was you."

Heero wanted to start laughing again at the vagaries of fate, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head, pondering at the strange intersecting paths that he'd stumbled upon.

"Kaze fukeba okeya ga moukaru," he said. "Kaze fukeba okeya ga moukaru."

Quatre waited for the translation he knew was coming.

"A bucket shop profits when wind blows," Heero said, chuckling a bit. "Who knew that we were selling buckets, Quatre."

Quatre mulled that over a moment, his mind making the connection rapidly.

"The world is interconnected, even though it doesn't seem to be," he said. "The guy in the Enzo? Duo Maxwell?"

Heero nodded.

Quatre had suspected as much the night before. In fact, he suspected far more than that. It hadn't taken long to put two and two together; the two being Duo's fleeting look of disappointment and Heero's briefly stricken expression. He wanted to say so many things, ask so many things, but it didn't seem right to force the issue.

"I have something for you," Heero said unexpectedly.

"Oh?"

"Be right back." With that, Heero was up and on his way to his room. When he returned, he handed a book to Quatre and then sat down again.

Quatre read the title and laughed. "To Love and Be Loved," he read aloud. He turned the book over and continued. "Love is not something we fall into...but rather a complex art combining many skills and talents that take a lifetime to learn." He looked up and his eyes bored into Heero's. "Think that's true?"

"I think some of his ideas have merit," Heero replied, "although perhaps it is different for everyone. There is no magical bolt of lightning that strikes you, suddenly opening your eyes up to a love so bright that you can't understand how you missed it before."

"You really believe that," Quatre mused.

Heero smiled at him. "Well, at least the part about the lightning bolt. This isn't ancient Greece, and Zeus isn't wielding his powers over us." He looked over at Quatre, staring at him with such intensity that the blond felt like squirming in his seat to get comfortable.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for Quatre. Don't sell yourself short."

Quatre took a deep breath, touched by Heero's words more than seemed appropriate. "I'm not going to sell myself at all. In fact, Heero, I plan on going home after this."

"That makes two of us..." Heero trailed off. "Quatre..."

Quatre cleared his throat, not wanting, not quite ready, to hear what Heero might be trying to say. "This book," he said. "Sam Keen. This the one you helped your sister with?"

Heero nodded. "Her name was Kitty," he said, and his voice cracked slightly. Quatre was at once at Heero's side, crouching beside the chair and placing a hand on both of Heero's, which were clasped in his lap.

"In my room," Heero rasped. "Dresser..."

Quatre nodded and got up to fetch whatever it was that Heero wanted him to see. He found the pile of money sitting on top of Heero's chest of drawers, and a cell phone. Next to the phone was a brochure, similar to the ones that were often hanging in wall pockets at doctors' offices.

He picked it up and flipped to the front page, reading the title of the pamphlet.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

~~~~~

Quatre brought the informational leaflet with him to the kitchen. Heero had turned his seat toward the window and seemed to be staring at the building across the street. Quatre knew better.

He supposed he should review the pamphlet first. On the first page was a list of symptoms of PTSD. Insomnia. Irritability. Distancing oneself from family and friends. Lack of enjoyment from interests previously pleasurable. Repeated nightmares. Decreased sex drive or overindulgence.

He continued skimming the list. It was rather ironic, he thought, that he'd actually experienced some of the symptoms himself. Not all, but some.

He was spending far too much time analyzing the symptoms. He moved to the page showing bullet items for possible causes of post traumatic stress.

Officer involved shooting. Officer witnessed shooting. Senseless death. Child victims of crime. Lack of debriefing after a critical incident. Officer family member being the victim of a crime.

He stopped.

My little sister, Heero had said. Her name was Kitty.

Officer family member being the victim of a crime. Officer?

He flipped to the back of the pamphlet. It had prepared by an online organization intended to provide assistance to police officers nationwide. He flipped open to the business card that he'd seen inside and noted the e-mail address of the doctor.

That certainly explained what Relena had told him about a recent friend she'd made. It explained the dark look her brother had given Heero outside the restaurant. He'd originally thought it must have something to do with Dorothy, but now everything was falling into place.

Almira had been right about one thing. He and Dorothy were evenly matched. He wasn't being immodest. He had just had a knack for piecing things together to form the big picture. The biggest difference between him and Dorothy was that Quatre preferred to give people enough rope to hang themselves. Dorothy, on the other hand, was the type to forget the noose altogether and jugulate the person instead.

When Quatre had told Heero he was going home, Heero had replied 'that makes two of us.'

He got up to use the phone. He hated to do this, but he had to ask his father if they could change their breakfast meeting to a luncheon meeting. This could take a while.

~~~~~

Quatre wanted to sag with relief when his father agreed to postpone their meeting. He had immediately been alarmed at Quatre's request, but once he'd been assured him that yes, everything was fine, he was willing to go along with his son's request.

Quatre was sure he'd end up paying for that later, but right now Heero needed him.

As he sat down at the table across from Heero, he noted that there were only traces of the dark and brooding brunet usually shown to the world.

He amended his mental statement. It wasn't that Heero needed him to here at all. Heero merely wanted him to be, but was willing to go without his presence if need be.

The ball was in Quatre's court.

"You aren't a police officer, are you?" he asked, gesturing to the informational brochure.

Heero shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not exactly, anyway."

"Is the gun yours?"

"Yes."

"Loaded?"

"No. Not even that night."

"It's under your bed, isn't it?"

Heero's eyebrows raised in surprise. Quatre grimaced. "You probably noticed I, ah, borrowed your bed." The tips of his ears grew a bit red. "There's a loose floorboard..." he trailed off, and Heero didn't press the issue.

"Quatre, tell me about the meeting yesterday."

The blond nodded, relieved that he didn't have to admit to his overindulgence. He couldn't blame Trowa for that, even if that's whom he'd gotten the bourbon from.

"After Dad gave me the paperwork, I sat down to review the companies involved. I recognized the name Peacecraft immediately, as I'd gone to school with Relena briefly. She was lucky. She started at Delphi after Dorothy left. Relena was innocent, far too naive for the likes of Dorothy Catalonia. She would have either become Dorothy's lackey, or would have learned the hard way what it was like to go up against someone with cold ruthless determination.

"I was honestly surprised to see her at the meeting. I haven't seen her since I graduated. She was a Business Seminar student, just like I was, with the opportunity to visit leading businesses in several cities. And I found out yesterday that, just like me, she has been given permission to intern working for her own company. That's a lot harder, I think, because the professionals you work with are determined to make you toil harder than any other student would, although whether to make sure you can handle it or to give you the necessary trial by fire, I'm not sure.

"She never met Dorothy Catalonia in school, but I found out Relena made her acquaintance recently, and, I suspect, yours as well."

Heero nodded.

"I'm getting a bit ahead of myself," Quatre said. "I showed up at the meeting, in my father's place, and was shown into one of the conference rooms. That's when I met Milliardo Peacecraft. I'd heard of him, mainly through Relena the year we were both at Delphi, but also in connection to Treize Khushrenada, who everyone had heard of.

"Milliardo didn't seem to pay me any mind one way or another, so Relena and I caught up on old times. She told me about some of the recent program changes at school, and that she was going back to Oregon...today, actually. Then there was a bit of tension in the air, and I knew that Maxwell and Chang had arrived.

"Ever get that feeling, where you can feel crosshairs in the middle of your back?" He winced at the turn of phrase he'd used, but plowed ahead. "I felt that way as soon as the door opened."

He blew the stray bangs out of his face before continuing.

"I turned around, and for a split second, Duo Maxwell looked like he'd seen a ghost. I almost thought I'd imagined it, and I'm not given to flights of fancy."

Heero nodded again.

"Then I shook his hand, and it was really weird, Heero," Quatre said. "I could tell he was..." he trailed off, then shook his head.

He fell silent, and bit his lip. He couldn't tell Heero that he'd felt a wave of longing through Duo, could he? It was like giving away a secret. He hated the way his body sometimes gave him insights he'd rather not have. Duo Maxwell was a very lonely man, and it didn't seem right to tell Heero that. Part of him wanted to, because he loved Heero, and he wanted to make things right.

The other part thought of the book Heero had given him. It was not Quatre's place to try to pave the way for Heero's heart, nor to stoke the embers with his own, possibly faulty, impressions.

Sometimes his own feelings colored the way he perceived the emotions of others. It was like trying to separate two hopelessly tangled balls of yarn, when the colors were similar. Where did one end, and the other begin?

Heero had been a bit upset the night before, but he hadn't felt lonely. He'd felt resigned, sad, even, but not lonely. He wished Trowa were there. Trowa had a way of listening even when no words were spoken. Heero had always been comfortable around him.

He sighed heavily. Heero didn't look as though he wanted him to continue in that vein, and he was grateful for that. Heero had always understood Quatre's struggle with his weird bouts of being an emotional radar.

Perhaps Heero wanted to find his own way, without interference. It took a great pressure off his mind when Heero said, "so how did the meeting conclude?"

Quatre took a sip of water and said, "Quite well. It seemed to me as if Milliardo had been rather reluctant to give an inch to Maxwell-Chang, and I suspect that, if Winner Industries had the capital, he would have left them out of the equation altogether. This will be a very good move for everyone, though." He took a deep breath, and then said, "I think I have a few questions for my father after this."

Heero reached across the table again, and Quatre recognized the gesture from their breakfast the previous morning. He clasped Heero's hand in his and squeezed.

"Careful," Heero said. "I'm right handed." With that, he smiled a bit at Quatre.

Quatre tightened his grip, then released Heero's hand.

"Something rather interesting happened after the meeting," Quatre said. "A woman showed up and glared daggers at Milliardo."

Heero perked up at that. "A woman?"

"Mmm. Wufei looked a bit surprised at first, then confused, but Milliardo definitely recognized her. Relena tensed up almost immediately, too. Then Milliardo walked right over to her and...Heero, are you okay?"

Heero had started laughing again. He leaned his head back and laughed, his palms on his stomach, then he bent forward at the waist and continued until he had managed to contain his mirth to a light chuckling.

"She's cagey as ever," Heero said, wiping his eyes. "Should have known that's why she sounded so damn smug on the phone."

"Who?"

"Lucrezia Noin. My partner."

~~~~~

Duo looked at the clouds out the window and thought how innocent they seemed. The sky was the picture of a perfect sunny day. Funny how those same clouds could turn ominously dark before sending a torrent of rain below.

The previous evening he'd been surprised to hear a knock at the door. He'd expected Wufei to call him at some point, but the phone had been painfully silent.

There was only one person he'd wanted to hear from, though, and it was just as well that his partner stayed the hell away from him for a while. They were catching an early flight in the morning and Duo felt the emptiness of the luxury suite even more as he slowly removed any trace that he'd been living here for the entire week.

The hardest part had been packing the Scrabble game and the jigsaw puzzle into his suitcase. He'd been tempted to leave them behind, but in the end, he just couldn't.

He'd picked up the playing cards and shaken them out, shuffled them the way Heero had, and then set the deck on the table and picked up the top card.

The two of hearts.

He'd stared at it and then swept his hand over the cards, scattering them everywhere.

He could still hear Heero's tentative voice. "Fifty-two pickup?" he'd asked, then Duo had heard the riffle just before the cards started to shower over him.

He'd angrily thrown half his clothes into the suitcase, only to pull them all out and refold them in order to get them to fit with the addition of the two boxes that he still could not leave behind.

The closet had been stripped of every single article of clothing he'd purchased for Heero. Except for what Duo had found on the desk, it was as if Heero had never set foot in the suite at all.

When he'd heard the knock at the door, he had practically torn it off its hinges as he opened it, then looked into the very calm, very dark eyes of Meiran Long.

His anger had deflated, and he'd stepped back to allow her to enter.

He'd attempted to flirt with her in that way he always did, but the words sounded flat to his ears. Forced.

He'd been stunned when she told him that she and Wufei had discussed moving to California and had asked what he thought of the idea.

Practically, he'd been all for it. There was no single reason for Wufei and Meiran not to set up residence in Los Angeles, and every reason for them to do so. Duo would still make the occasional trip out West for meetings, and Wufei would do the same with flights to the East Coast.

Then she'd surprised him, asking if he'd mind taking a later flight. She'd suggested that he might wish to review all the terms of the agreement and present any questions to Janet as he'd been absent for the meeting.

Duo had wondered briefly what else Wufei had shared with his wife. His partner wasn't the type to speculate, but Meiran was.

He'd agreed to take an evening flight instead of a morning one, even though that would mean he'd arrive in LaGuardia in the middle of the night, considering the time difference. Meiran had teased him about having an 'in' with one of the bosses and she would make sure it was okay if Duo came to work late on Tuesday. She'd actually leered at him when she said that, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Just before she left, she'd handed a small paper bag out to him. When he'd lifted an eyebrow in query, she'd said "in case you get bored on the plane."

It wasn't until she'd left that he took the book out of the bag and read the title.

The Maltese Falcon.

He'd almost dropped the book. He could picture Heero on the couch, calmly answering Duo's question about pulp fiction. Duo had been referring to the movie of the same name, and Heero had deliberately answered in terms of the era when tales of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe made their debut.

It would have been nice to watch that movie with Heero.

After Meiran had left, he'd slid the book he was still holding back into the paper sack and placed it in his carryon. Then he had finished packing the rest of his luggage, only leaving out the toiletries he'd need in the morning as well as the suit he planned to wear for his half day at the office.

The suit he was wearing now. He didn't know if it was intentional that he'd worn the collarless shirt that Heero had borrowed a few days earlier.

He'd just finished reading the entire plan for the quasi-merger, and he supposed he could double check with Janet to be sure that everything was finalized. It was a good business move. If he had the time and inclination, he would have arranged a meeting with Quatre Winner today as well, but he remembered again what the young blond had been wearing and just couldn't bring himself to find out more about him. Perhaps Wufei could make arrangements to return to Los Angeles some time in the next week or so. In the meantime, they'd teleconference with their new partners, and Wufei had already indicated that Janet would take care of meeting with Peacecraft and Winner in person as needed in the meantime.

Forget a raise, the girl should get a damned promotion.

Duo picked up the stack of papers he'd set aside on the conference table and straightened them before taking them with him to the legal department.

As usual, he was waylaid several times on his way to his destination. He listened with half an ear as he remembered the rest of the previous evening.

Meiran had walked over to the loveseat and unerringly sat down on the same side Heero usually did. Sometimes Duo would swear the woman was psychic.

"Do you mind?" she'd asked, picking up the remote. He'd stood there dumbly and shook his head, the paperback still clutched in both hands.

She knew Duo's penchant for old movies, and had flicked through channels until she found it. An old John Wayne film was playing, and she'd shaken her head and sighed. Meiran hated Westerns, but she shared Duo's passion for the old suspense thrillers.

"Duo?" she'd asked carefully as she turned off the television. "Are you feeling alright?"

He'd not been able to respond, because just before she found the classic movie channel, she'd surfed past a commercial for a cosmetic product. Eyeliner or eye shadow, Duo supposed. Meiran had paused at that station briefly and laughed a bit, and Duo suspected that indicated a private joke of sorts between her and Wufei, one that ordinarily he'd have done his best to charm out of her so he could tease his partner mercilessly the next day.

The reason he'd known it wasn't a commercial for lipstick or nail polish was because of the music the advertisement featured. Another perfectly good song, ruined by Madison Avenue.

"Temptation eyes, looking through my mind, my soul..."

Then her question had registered, and he'd nodded. "I'm fine," he said, his tone clipped.

He realized he'd said those words out loud to a question posed to him by one of his employees as he stood there with the first man who had stopped him on his way to the legal department. If Duo remembered correctly, one worked in payroll and the other in either purchasing or accounting.

The man hadn't really been inquiring about his well being, Duo noted, because he thanked Duo for his time and went on his way. It was funny how the words 'how are you?' served as an all-purpose greeting. Most people really didn't care how the person they were asking was truly feeling, and even if they did, they were nonplussed if the answer was anything but 'I'm fine.'

Duo excused himself from the accountant he'd been pretending to listen to and continued on his way to see Janet.

The radio was playing as he'd expected. Johnny Nash was crooning how it would be a bright sunshiny day now that the dark clouds were gone.

"I hate this song," Nadia grumbled as she took a sip of coffee, then carefully placed the mug where it wouldn't get knocked over onto the computer or paperwork she was paging through.

Janet beamed at her as Duo stood there listening to their banter. "Vic is out this week, so they're doing a high school flashback this morning."

"Yeah," Nadia said, grimacing. "Class of Ninety Seventy Gag Me."

"Good morning to you, too," Duo said, glad for the distraction. Janet snapped to attention immediately, glancing at the paperwork in Duo's hand and asking if everything had been made clear.

He nodded, and she grinned at him. "Mister Peacecraft's original plan was modified only very slightly by Mister Winner, and those changes were typed up by Nadia while the rest of the proposal was reviewed," she explained.

"I saw the highlighted areas where you'd indicated changes from the proposal I received," Duo said. "You were very thorough."

"You can drop that over there," Janet said, pointing at the table with the stereo on it.

"... you never said too much, but still you showed you cared..." came from the radio.

"Gah!" Janet's sound of disgust drowned out David Gates as she recognized the song. Duo felt himself tense slightly at the lyrics, and he followed the example set by Janet earlier in the week and pressed one of the preset buttons.

"THANK you, Duo!" she said in exaggerated relief. "Oh, please, K-Mix, be good to me..."

"Momma needs a new pair of shoes," Nadia finished under her breath. She picked up her coffee mug and saluted Janet with it before draining the contents.

Janet started laughing. "Who needs the radio when I have you here for entertainment, Nadia? Ever think of doing standup?"

Nadia rolled her eyes and turned her attention to collating the pages spread out on the other half of the L-shaped desk.

"No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women. No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark..."

A loud crash followed, and Janet gaped at the retreating form of Duo Maxwell as he stormed out of the office.

Nadia's attention wasn't on her employer. Instead, it was on the mangled remains of the now silent radio.

She blinked a few times, then looked at Janet to see what she thought of what had just happened.

To her surprise, the blonde had a slight smile playing about her lips.

"Janet, whatever you're smoking, it's only polite to share."

"No, Nadia," she said, her voice quiet and almost reverent. "Don't you see?"

"The broken radio? Yeah, hard to miss."

Janet shook her head. "No, no, not that."

"Please enlighten me, Nostradamus."

"I know it will seem hypocritical of me, considering how upset I've been after Casanova put his dipstick in another car, but I think this is a different Duo than the one we saw earlier this week."

"Spit it out, Barbie," Nadia said, making a rolling gesture with her right hand.

"I think Duo just realized he bought a purple Dodge."

~~~~~

Heero had just finished washing his breakfast dishes when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find Trowa on the other side, holding the suitcase Heero had purchased the previous day.

"You forgot something," Trowa said.

"So I did," Heero replied. He held the door open wider and gestured for the other man to come in, then closed the door when Trowa did so.

"I appreciate your bringing it over," Heero said. "I was just going to start packing."

Trowa's face was unreadable. "It's not like you to forget things, Heero." He followed Heero into his bedroom.

Heero moved the bed out of the way and retrieved the metal box from under the floor. "Did I ever thank you for this?" he asked.

"You paid me for it; no thanks were needed."

Heero removed several articles of clothing from the closet and folded them neatly, placing them in the suitcase before opening the metal box. He double checked the contents, removed the key that was nestled in the foam, and closed and locked the box. He set it on the layer of clothes in the suitcase and reached into his pocket. He added the key to the ring he withdrew before returning to the task of folding and packing.

"Do you love him?" Trowa asked suddenly.

Heero's entire body froze, and he felt a sharp pang in the region of his heart. He took several calming breaths.

"What?"

"You heard me. Do you love him?"

Heero looked at Trowa's impassive expression. The man never gave a sign of what he was feeling. Then he realized whom Trowa was referring to.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

Trowa sighed. "He loves you, too, you know. He has ever since he found you."

Heero closed his eyes briefly before straightening and turning to face his guest. "I'm sorry, Trowa."

Trowa laughed softly. "He does have a way of getting under your skin, doesn't he? I think he might be very good at infiltration."

Heero realized that in all the time he'd known Trowa and considered him a friend, he really knew very little about the man.

"Do you have any beer?"

When Heero shook his head, Trowa asked, "would you like some?"

One look at the clock indicated he had plenty of time before his evening flight. "Sure."

By the time Trowa returned with a six pack, Heero was packed and ready to go.

They both sat and drank the first bottle in companionable silence. It was much like being at the bar, except Trowa never drank when he was working. In fact, Heero couldn't remember having seen him drink even after hours.

Then again, he himself had made a habit of avoiding alcohol around most people.

It seemed that he and Trowa had a lot in common, he mused. Much, much more than he'd ever have imagined. Lyrics to a J. Geils song ran through his head until Trowa asked him a question.

"There really is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone, isn't there?" Trowa asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"That's up to you."

Heero took a long swallow of beer before answering.

"Yes," he said. "There is a difference. Sometimes the difference is like night and day, but other times, I think that 'loving' and 'being in love' are as closely related as love and hate are."

"Is it worth it, do you think?"

Heero rolled the bottle between his hands as he thought about how to respond to that. "Suru noha shippai nanimo shinai noha daishippai," he recited. "Doing is a mistake; not doing is a huge mistake."

"I suppose I should be glad, then," Trowa said, "that I only made a mistake."

Heero's lips curled into a self-deprecating smirk. "Me too."

"Are you..." Trowa took a deep breath. "Are you IN love with him, Heero?"

It took Heero a while to answer before he said, "No."

Trowa felt some of the tension in his body leave him. He glanced over at Heero before lifting the corner of the beer label and pulling. "How did you two meet?"

"He wanted to rescue me," Heero said.

Trowa nodded. "It's one of the reasons I -" he promptly shut his mouth. "He cares a lot. About you, about everyone. I was worried, at first, when he brought you to the bar. I wanted to rail at him, tell him that he was insane for taking in a stray biped."

"I know," Heero said. "I never thanked you for accepting me, either."

"Do you believe in destiny, Heero?"

"That question seems to come up a lot," Heero said. "But no. No, I don't."

Trowa looked at him sharply, as if Heero's tone of voice belied his words.

"When you were a child, did you ever play 'cat's cradle,' Heero?"

"That's the finger game with the yarn?"

Trowa snorted. "Yarn, or string. It's all one continuous circle, but you manipulate it, and each time, you end up with another pattern."

Heero nodded. Trowa didn't need to say anything else, nor did he. The analogy was clear.

Heero was on his third beer by then, and Trowa on his second. The latter glanced at the clock.

"I've been here long enough that I can legally drive," he said, shaking his bottle to show it was only half-empty. "I'll be back around five to pick you up."

They both stood up, and Trowa headed for the door. Heero held up a finger to indicate that Trowa should wait.

He rummaged through a drawer near the sink and pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it.

"Just in case," he said, folding up the paper into quarters as he walked toward the door. To Trowa's surprise, Heero's arms came around him suddenly. He returned the embrace tightly. Heero's hand slipped into his back pocket before they pulled away, and he winked at Trowa.

"You've been living with Quatre far too long," Trowa said, shaking his head. "See you later," he said.

Heero thanked him again, then closed the door behind him.

Before heading down the stairs and out to his car, Trowa reached into his pocket and withdrew the paper Heero had given him. As he unfolded it, something fell on the floor. He glanced at the paper. It was a phone number, just as he'd suspected. He didn't recognize the area code.

He bent over and picked up the item that fell. His brows drew together as he looked at the broken pencil in confusion. He shoved both the phone number and the writing implement back into his pocket and left the building.

~~~~~

"You should have let me tell him," Wufei told his wife. They'd just reached the appropriate boarding gate and were waiting for their flight to be called.

"You say a word to him and I will personally make sure you suffer from monorchidism."

"He has a right to know, Meiran!"

She shook her head. "You are not to butt in, Wufei. I mean it. There is more to all of this than what Heero does for a living."

"What the hell do you mean? Duo thinks he's a prostitute. I need to correct that assumption."

Meiran's eyes were flashing angrily. She was tempted to point out that, for all they knew, Heero really was a prostitute when he met Duo, but that would send the argument in a different direction. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Wufei, you're being a typical man," she said. She opened her eyes again and stared into his. "Would it make any difference if I were working full time somewhere? Would it change how you felt about me if I told you I wanted to go out and earn a living instead of doing volunteer work?"

"Of course not!" he snapped.

She held out her hands as if to say 'see?'

"Meiran," he began, but her words had him doubting himself again.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes, dear," he said sarcastically.

"You're such a bear when you admit you've come from the dark side over into the light."

"I just..."

"I know, Wufei," she said, and her voice was full of tenderness. "You don't like to admit it, Chang, but you have a big heart. I know you care for Duo, but this is one of those things where he needs to sort it out by himself. Interference from us will only cloud the issue. Whatever happens or doesn't happen must be the result of Duo's own choices. Let it run its course."

He merely grunted. Just because he agreed with his wife didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

~~~~~

After calling his father's room to inform him that he'd arrived, Quatre fought the temptation to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The minutes seemed to drag as he waited for in the lobby of the Loews Beverly Hills hotel.

It was hard to believe he'd been here just over twenty-four hours ago with Heero. He almost expected to run into Dorothy Catalonia again, but of course she had much bigger fish to fry. That didn't mean she wouldn't be a thorn in his side in the future, but for now, he was nervous enough regarding the upcoming meeting.

Then his father was there, shaking his hand in greeting. They made their way from the hotel lobby to the restaurant. Before he knew it, they were seated and provided with glasses of water. Quatre wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that it was a different table than the one he and Heero had dined at.

Once they'd placed their order Quatre leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and folding one hand over the knuckles of the other.

Business first, he decided. Then anything else they had to say would not color his father's reactions of the deal he'd successfully closed with their new business partners.

"We are now equal shareholders in the newly incorporated Sanquhar," Quatre began.

He illustrated the changes he'd implemented to the plan that had been briefly outlined to his father when he'd received the call from Milliardo Peacecraft on his cell phone the previous morning.

He provided his first impressions of their new partners. Milliardo he described as driven and ambitious, potentially ruthless if need be. Wufei Chang, he told his father, was open and up-front, most likely honest to a fault. Relena brought a sense of youthful eagerness for changes.

"And Duo Maxwell?" his father prompted.

Quatre considered the brief contact he'd had with the man. "Duo had other pressing matters to address," he said. "I did not spend enough time with him -"

"Come, come, Quatre," came the amused reply. "First impressions are formed almost instantly. Forget what you think Maxwell can bring to the table. Tell me what you think of him."

Quatre needed to do no more than think of his roommate. Just before he'd left the apartment, Heero had stood up and walked over to him.

He'd been surprised, thinking that Heero had had enough for one day. Then Heero had held out his right hand. Quatre had accepted it automatically, without hesitation.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Quatre Raberba Winner," Heero said. "My name is Heero Yuy." He'd smiled at Quatre's stunned expression and gave an almost imperceptible squeeze before letting go. "Enjoy your breakfast, Quatre."

Quatre had one hand on the doorknob when Heero spoke again.

"Quatre," he'd said. Once Quatre had turned around to face him, wondering if Heero had changed his mind, the dark haired man looked at him with the gravest of expressions. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I'm only going to breakfast with my father," Quatre had replied with a roll of his eyes.

Heero had winked at him then. "It may be good advice later on."

Quatre had the answer his father was looking for.

"I trust him," he said, and he meant it.

~~~~~

After they'd eaten breakfast, they'd returned to the hotel room upstairs that his father had reserved before his arrival in Los Angeles. His father set about filling the coffeemaker with the grounds provided. He was silent as he added bottled water and waited for it to brew.

"You're probably wondering how I found you," his father said, seating himself in one of the chairs with a cup of the piping hot beverage.

Quatre sat on the bed, part of his mind unable to keep from marveling, albeit briefly, at the Tempur-Pedic mattress. He was making a clean start, he reminded himself; the last thing he needed was to start wondering how it would feel to use that mattress for rather strenuous activities. It was going to be harder than he'd thought to simply stop being a spintry.

"I'll admit," his father continued. "I did suspect for a while that Iria knew where you were, because there's no way that girl would have remained calm if she thought for a moment something had happened to you.

"I have to say, Quatre, you have loyal friends."

Quatre swallowed hard. "I do?" He winced internally as soon as the question was asked. So much for appearing the calm rational adult. He sounded like a shocked little boy.

"It was easy enough to find the bar. I called, asked for directions, and found it without a problem. The bartender wasn't very forthcoming with information, however. He managed to keep me from making inquiries regarding your whereabouts from others in the vicinity. I should be angry with that young man. I even showed him my identification, but he pointed out that Winner wasn't exactly that unusual a surname, and said that I looked more like him than I did like you. Then he followed it up with a comment that even if I was who I said, that didn't give him the right to betray a confidence.

"He seemed quite adamant about the issue of trust, I'd say."

His father took a sip of his coffee and set it down on the saucer he'd placed on the desk earlier.

"I had to hire a private investigator. Once he had your photo and knew where you might be spending some time, it was a simple matter to follow you home one night. It took a day or two to glean the information from your neighbors about which apartment was yours.

"Are you living with that young man, Quatre?"

Quatre almost choked on the water he was sipping. He felt like he'd been caught stealing. "Young man?"

"The one that works at the bar. The investigator said you had a roommate with messy brown hair."

"You think his hair is messy?"

"Quatre," his father said, looking at him intently. He opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't get the chance.

"I'm gay," Quatre blurted out.

"I see," his father replied, and Quatre wondered what meaning lay behind those two words.

Neither of them said anything, and Quatre could hear the humming of the laptop computer situated on the desk, right next to the coffee cup.

"This is why you left." It wasn't a question.

Quatre nodded, summoning all his courage to meet his father's gaze as he did so. "I was a coward," he admitted. He felt his face grow warm.

His father sighed. "I can't say this is the news that I was hoping to hear, Quatre. I don't think any parent is eager to hear that their offspring won't provide them with grandchildren. I know, I know," he said. "You're not the only child. It's just that I am being a typical patriarch. I'd like to have a grandchild bearing my name. One that does not merely because one of my daughters got pregnant out of wedlock."

Quatre couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his father, who seemed resigned, but accepting.

"And don't think I'm blind to Almira's faults," his father added. "That girl would drive any sane man away." He sighed. "I suppose I have given her far too much power, at far too young an age. I will need to remind her that being tactful is as important as tactical. She sees everything as an empire to be conquered.

"Don't expect her to welcome your announcement with open arms, Quatre."

"I don't. In fact, she may never accept it."

"So you do plan on breaking the news to everyone?"

Quatre nodded. "I owe them an explanation for my disappearance. Perhaps it might remind Almira that she needs to be mindful of her audience when she gets on a soapbox." He took a deep breath.

"Dad," he said tentatively. "I thought perhaps, with Sanq being in its infancy, we might wish to have an onsite presence until it gets off the ground."

His father drummed his fingers on the table. "You're right. I would never dream of leaving it in the hands of other interested parties, regardless of how reliable they may be. You will come home with me, first, as we discussed yesterday. Then we will review the logistics, and we will certainly find you a much more decent residence."

Quatre smiled, and his father shook his head.

"I would like to know more about this young man of yours, Quatre, when you are ready to tell me."

He chuckled softly at Quatre's look of surprise. "I do worry about you, Quatre, no matter how capable I think you are.

"There is a silver lining in all of this, I suppose."

"What's that, Dad?"

"I can breathe easy now, knowing that Dermail's granddaughter won't be an in-law of mine."

tbc

~~~~~

jugulate - to kill, especially by cutting the throat

monorchidism - the state of having only one testis or having only one descend into the scrotum

biped - a two-footed animal

spintry - a male prostitute

Songs:
I Can See Clearly Now - Johnny Nash, 1972.
Everything I Own - Bread (lyrics and vocals by David Gates), 1972.

Brownie points for anyone who recognizes the song that resulted in the demise of the stereo.

Nostradamus - a sixteenth century physician, alchemist, and astrologer. He is reputed to have predicted many events throughout history, including both world wars. His quatrains have been subject to a lot of interpretation (and misinterpretation). I last remember his name being bandied about in the press following the attacks on the World Trade Center towers, with creative attempts to make one of the quatrains fit the events of September 11, 2001. Here's the ubiquitous random URL: http://www.NostradamusUsa.com

Sanquhar - located in Scotland, has origins from "the eighth century when it was first called 'Sean Caer' meaning in the Celtic tongue 'Old Fort ' or 'Old Castle'" - at least this is according to one of the tourism web sites for Sanquhar (http://www.sadta.co.uk/sanquhar.html)

Those unfamiliar with the Tempur-Pedic mattress can see this marvel of Swedish technology here: http://www.tempurpedic.com/home.asp