Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Deadly Beautiful ❯ An Attempt to Move On ( Chapter 48 )

A/N: Happy birthday to youuuu, happy birthday to youuu, happy slightly-belated-third-birthday Deadly Beautifulllll, happy birthday to you!

 

Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't want to~ I have a new chair though. :D

 

 

Deadly Beautiful - Chapter 48

 

by danse

 

~*~

 

Quatre Winner was a brilliant tactician, and he knew it. It wasn't egotism—he wasn't cut out for that—but after hearing the same compliment over and over for most of one's life, anyone with a sense of self-worth will start to take to heart that maybe it just might be true.

 

So Quatre knew he was skilled at strategizing.

 

That was doing nothing for him right now.

 

In the span of a few short weeks, he'd: developed a crush that he'd known he shouldn't have; had it confirmed to him that it was a hopeless case; dealt with the failure of Heero and Duo on an extremely important mission; dealt with the repercussions following it, including an unsuccessful search for the possibly-dead Heero; essentially lost all contact with all of his new friends, Trowa most importantly; discovered that his childhood mentor was sneaking around behind his back and doing shady things for reasons unfathomable; and suffered the realization that his long-term hiding place with the Maganacs had been compromised and now had to be uprooted and moved somewhere else. Now, finally, he was slouched on his bed (one of the straggling pieces of furniture in the slowly-vanishing Maganac compound) with his shoulders hunched and dark circles under his eyes from insomnia, rereading the letter in his lap for what had to be the hundredth time.

 

It was from his father. H had delivered it to him.

 

'Dear Quatre,' it said. 'Your old violin instructor unexpectedly showed up at my office today. He told me a little (far from everything, I'm sure) of your current situation. I understand that your colleague Rashid and his cohorts have been discovered and are now in the process of relocating. H expressed to me his beliefs that your sister Iria was probably considering leaving the group, as it would be somewhat more convenient to do it while they move themselves to a new home. I asked him if this meant that you would be leaving as well, but for all that he claims to know you, he could not be sure.

 

'Quatre, my dear son, I realize as your father, after all that our family has suffered through, that perhaps you feel a little distant towards me, and that perhaps Iria shares the same feelings.' Quatre couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this. 'However, for all of our disagreements, we are blood, and I would like you and your sister both to seriously consider returning to the family home. Your sisters miss you both and would all be thrilled to see you again. As would I. Your rooms are still the same as when you left. Well, I know I cannot convince you to return if you don't want to; people say you take after me in that respect. At least consider it, please.' I will be sending this letter with H when he returns to your group.' He'd proceeded to sign it with his middle initial included, probably by reflex.

 

Sighing heavily, Quatre thrust the slightly crumpled letter down on the bed at his side, flopping onto his back to stare at the plain ceiling. His mouth twisted. So after two years, he wants me to go home. And Iria too. Why the sudden change? Then again, he thought, probably nothing has changed. It's probably just round two of 'Bring Your Future Company Executives Home'.

 

He sprawled in the same position and gnawed on his lip for a few moments, listening to his own breathing, and then heaved himself off of the bed to go find his sister.

 

***

 

It didn't take Quatre long to find Iria. She was in the infirmary, kneeling on the floor and searching through cupboards, when he walked in and cleared his throat loudly. She jumped, smacking her head on the top of the cupboard. Quatre winced and ran forward to help her.

 

“Sorry, Iria. Are you okay?”

 

His older sister squinted at him and frowned as she rubbed the top of her head. “You startled me,” she muttered, crawling away from the cupboard and sitting down ungracefully on the floor. She looked up at Quatre. “What are you doing in here?” she asked. She glanced at his face, and then frowned again. “Quatre, have you been getting enough sleep lately?”

 

He swallowed guiltily. “I'm fine,” he said, waving her off. “I was looking for you. Thought I'd find you in here.” He grinned.

 

She gestured at the clipboard she'd left on the counter. “Well, I'm doing inventory of the medical supplies for the Maganacs, so we can move it all out of here. I should have it done in a few hours, I think....” She gave the clipboard a brief, thoughtful look before turning her attention back to her brother. “What were you looking for me for?” she asked as she hauled herself to her feet.

 

Quatre sat on one of the beds, gnawing at his lip absently again. “I needed to talk to you. I, uh.... Father sent me a letter.” He sighed.

 

Iria, whose back was to him as she simultaneously listened and totalled numbers, visibly stiffened as she turned around. She immediately crossed the room and sat on the next bed, facing Quatre. “He sent you one too, huh?” she said ruefully, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

 

He locked eyes with her. “I'm going to assume that they said the same things.”

 

“He wants me to go home,” she answered. She got up again, going back to her clipboard. “Apparently your instructor, H, has a very big mouth, and informed Father on who-knows-what sort of visit that the Maganacs were moving and that I wasn't sure what I was going to do.” Her tone was bitter. She had never been a fan of Instructor H.

 

Quatre studied her back, not at all offended by the slight against his former mentor. After all, he was not presently in Quatre's good books, either. “So?” he prompted.

 

“So, what?”

 

Quatre rolled his eyes. “So, is it true? Are you leaving the Maganacs? Are you going back home?”

 

“Oh, Quatre, I don't know,” she sighed, opening an overhead cupboard and then writing something down on her clipboard. “I've certainly enjoyed my time with Rashid's group, and I've learned quite a lot....”

 

“But?”

 

She frowned. “...But, I've been here nearly two years now. I'm starting to feel like it's time to move on and try something new.” She turned to face Quatre and smiled slightly. “Maybe I can finally figure out a way to get into medical school and be a real doctor.”

 

Quatre studied her face silently. “Maybe Father is ready to forgive us, and he'll actually pay for you to go to medical school.”

 

She scoffed. “When pigs fly! Little Brother, you don't actually mean to tell me that you think our father has actually forgiven us? No, he wants us to go back home and say we've come to our senses, and that, yes, we'd like to join the Winner Corporation alongside all of our sisters who haven't been married off to young, male executives of the Winner Corporation.” She shook her head. “No, he hasn't given up yet. He's a Winner; he's genetically incapable of giving in.” Fuming, Iria tapped her pen irritably on the immaculate countertop as she glared out the small window at a courtyard.

 

Abruptly, Quatre started to laugh. Iria gave him an incredulous look, which made him laugh harder. “Don't you see?” he gasped out. “That's our problem too....” He burst out in another fit of giggles, leaning back on the bed. God, he was exhausted. This shouldn't have been so funny. It was true, though, as his father had said in his letter: the Winners had a stubborn streak. Eventually the fit of laughter died, and Quatre was contemplative and silent again as Iria continued to do her inventory. He could hear the faint sounds of people talking in the hallway.

 

Quatre's world had never really been normal or safe, but living here, with the Maganacs, had felt like a real home to him. He'd had a routine here, and he was encouraged to do the things that he wanted to do; he could make a difference in the world around him in whatever way suited him best. The Maganacs hadn't dissolved now that their current home was compromised—far from it—but they had to pack it all up and leave, and go find a new place to hide. Despite what Rashid protested to the contrary about the necessity of changing location once in a while, and how they had been getting too comfortable in one location for so long, Quatre felt guilty that this was all entirely his fault. He hadn't wanted to jeopardize anyone's safety, especially not those he cared about. He also couldn't help but think that his presence might not be wanted by a number of the Maganacs at wherever they set up camp next. He knew that he probably wouldn't appreciate having someone around who had a history of putting him and his loved ones in danger.

 

The problem was that he had nowhere else to go.

 

“So are you...?” Quatre asked softly.

 

Iria sighed just as softly. “...Probably,” she muttered.

 

Quatre nodded even though she couldn't see it, and then got up to leave without another word. He was going to go find Rashid and help lift things for a while. It was simpler.

 

***

 

Despite the fact that he lived alone again, Duo had still just barricaded himself in the bathroom as if he was afraid of being discovered. He stood in the middle of the small room, glaring at the counter and hugging himself as he shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. His hair stuck out in disarray from his messy braid and he wore an old t-shirt and boxers. The greyish, faded black of his shirt matched the colour of the dark circles under his eyes—he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in eight days, now. He couldn't even make it through an afternoon nap to fend off some of the tiredness, and since he'd informally quit his job, he spent his days staring lifelessly at the TV in a state of semi-awareness. Hilde had given up talking to him two days ago.

 

Today, however, he'd forced himself to put on clean clothes and go outside. He hadn't been able to put it off any longer than he already had. Not trusting his senses enough to drive, he'd gotten on the bus to go to the doctor. Half an hour of adult discussion and childish, desperate pleading later, he'd gone to the closest drug store to fill his prescription.

 

Duo stared at the bottle of sleeping pills on his bathroom counter as if it was going to come alive and bite him.

 

Finally, he shook his head angrily, his hair flopping around. “Jesus Christ, Maxwell, get ahold of yourself,” he growled, reaching forward suddenly and snatching the pill bottle from the counter before he could think too much more about it. The pills rattled as he tilted the bottle to read the label. 'Take one daily with water to ease suffering caused by sleeping problems'. Frowning thoughtfully, he popped the lid off of the bottle and shook a pill out into his hand to examine it. It was a small, round, whitish pill with 'ME' engraved onto one side, and '100' on the other. He put the bottle back down on the counter as he contemplated the little pill. It really was awfully small.

 

Duo clenched the pill in his fist as he turned on the cold water tap and filled an empty glass from beside the sink. Closing his eyes and taking a deep, steady breath, he took a sip of water and swallowed the pill, his throat working slowly and deliberately. After finishing off the glass of water, he put the cap back on the pill bottle and stared at himself in the mirror. A broken, exhausted boy stared right back.

 

These pills better work, he thought as he shut off the bathroom light and trudged down the hall to his bedroom. He hoped that Hilde would never find out that he'd actually listened to her advice, either.

 

><> ><> ><> ><>

 

A/N: Look, I'm really not dead! Just busy! So for those of you who don't already know about it, I started a new fic of story-length, and it's called Les Ombres Rebelles. It's a yaoi schoolfic (but not like you might be thinking), and there is a lot of violence and sex and death and yay. If you like the darker aspects of DB, you might like Ombres, because it's like DB, but more so. So check it out if you're into that, yeah. Thanks kids!