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Picture Windows	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 597 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Picture Windows
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 2
- 3
- 4
Picture Windows 3

Additional
disclaimer: I own nothing in relationship to the wondrous series of Oz Books by
L. Frank Baum, besides the extreme joy I find in them.

The door to the top tower room squealed with disuse as
Trowa pushed it open. The chamber did not have the same grandiose proportions of
the two below it; the ceiling was much lower, and the decoration almost stark. A
large but plain bed was the only furnishing, save for the trunk that Iria had
mentioned and a freestanding full-length mirror. The lighting in the room was
strange, and as he ran a curious eye across the dark wooden paneling of the
walls, Trowa found the reason why. Spanning the room at six-foot intervals,
there were narrow slits in the wall, barely a foot across and a scant three feet
high. And from each of these cracks, a soft glow of differently colored light
emanated. He approached the closest; a deep green color, and peered down the
thin shaft to find glass blocks instead of the stained glass he had expected.
The thickness of the blocks twisted and tamed the light; the long tunnel into
the room proper subdued it even further. Since it was the middle of the day, the
intensity of light coming from each shaft was fairly even, and it filled the
room with barely distinguishable bands of color. "These people and their
glass, " Trowa muttered to himself as he turned to the trunk.

He knelt down, and after a moment�s fumbling with
the clasp, the lid opened and the sweet scent of a faded sachet ghosted through
the air. Several articles of clothing lay folded neatly within, but what caught
Trowa�s eye was the same suit from the picture, or an exact duplicate. A neat
brown plaid vest was nestled in a fawn-colored woolen jacket. Underneath he
found a white button-down shirt with a heavily starched color and a tie to match
the jacket. He dug down further and was rewarded with the straight-legged wool
pants of dark brown and a carefully wrapped pair of black leather ankle boots.
He placed the clothing on the bed and stripped down to his boxers. He slid the
pants on first, and then quickly removed them with a silent shiver of revulsion
before returning to the trunk. He sifted through the contents, edging aside
pants and shirts until he found what he sought � a full-length garment
obviously meant to be worn as underwear; its soft cotton would protect his legs
from the scratchy wool.

Trowa shucked off his boxers and slid the union suit
on, his fingers making short work of the buttons that ran up the front. He next
pulled the pants back on with a sigh of relief, the roughness of the fabric
muted by the protective layer of cotton. The shirt and vest were little trouble,
and although the stiff collar of the shirt chafed at his neck, it fit as if it
had been tailored just for him. The tie, however, was a lost cause. Trowa�s
usually dexterous fingers twiddled the buff silk hopelessly for a few minutes;
he gave up and frowned at his impassive reflection. He slipped on the jacket and
then sat on the bed to slide on the boots. They, like the rest of the clothes,
felt as if they had been made just for him; his toes corresponded neatly into
the grooves worn into the sole by the previous owner. He gathered his clothes
and turned to leave the room, but his own movement, reflected in the mirror,
caught his eye.

As Trowa faced himself, he breathed a silent, "Oh
God," his voice robbed of strength by shock. For he did not simply resemble
the man in the picture with Quatre, he was that man. There were only two
differences; his hair hung down longer in front than the mystery man�s, and
Quatre was not by his side. His hands smoothed the suit down over his body as he
turned from side to side and searched his reflection intently for any subtle
difference that would let him deny the wild ideas running through his mind.
"There�s no way," Trowa muttered, angry with himself for wanting the
impossible. "It wasn�t me � how could it be?" His restless hand
skimmed over the breast pocket of the coat, and he heard a faint crinkling from
within it. He cautiously eased a bit of folded paper out and opened it to read:

Although
the words are from Thoreau, the sentiment flows from my heart:
```
"I never asked thy leave to let me love thee, I have a right. I love thee not as something private and personal, which is your own, but something 
```
```
universal and worthy of love, which I have found. I have discovered you; how can you be concealed from me? Give me an opportunity to live." 
```
~Your
Quatre~

Trowa�s heart jumped at the words, and he traced the
signature with a stuttering fingertip before issuing a half hysterical bark of
laughter into the vacant room. "This is stupid, he�s long dead!" he
told his distressed reflection. "He�s not my Quatre, and there�s no way
he could ever be�" He barely resisted the urge to crumple the note.
Instead he threw it into the trunk as he abandoned the room, chased down the
stairs by the mad mutterings of his own mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lunch with Miss Iria was a brief affair; true to her
word she had kept the meal simple, serving only BLT�s and tomato soup. Trowa
managed to pack away three of the sandwiches, much to her delight. She seemed to
sense his discomfort, so she simply smiled at him as she tied the stubborn tie
neatly and sent him on his way with a whispery kiss to his cheek. He stowed his
street clothes in the backseat and then drove carefully down the Hill. Wufei
lived on the newer side of town, in one of the spacious modern houses popular
with the executives from larger nearby cities who wanted a taste of
"country life."

Wufei opened the door, his tone and expression bland,
"You don�t look much like a lion."

Trowa�s only answer was to make a deliberate show of
examining Wufei�s costume. Wufei was totally green, from his sage, knee high
spats to the conical emerald cap on his head. A curling twist of a darkest
forest beard snaked down to skim the thighs of the bright green, tight one-piece
bodysuit that was topped with a short jacket trimmed with gold bric-brac.
"Don�t ask! I�m only going to explain this once � so just wait until
we�re with the others." Wufei told him in a voice that already sounded
weary.

Trowa raised both eyebrows and turned back to the car
with a small shrug. Wufei grabbed an outrageously long plastic rifle with
flowers glued to the end and followed. The ride to Hilde�s passed quickly but
quietly. Trowa was lost in his own thoughts of Quatre, while Wufei spent the
drive attempting to wrangle his restless beard into place.

Hilde�s front yard was amok with Munchkins. The
beribboned and befrocked crew tumbled over the grass in an undecipherable mess
of legs and arms and shrieking voices. Duo chased after them bonelessly, playing
the Scarecrow perfectly, right down to belting out "If I Only Had a
Brain" at the top of his lungs.

Heero clanked up to the car, the smallest of grins on
his silver painted face. "And truer words were never sung," he
deadpanned.

"Are you attempting humor again, Yuy?" Wufei
struggled briefly with his rifle; it had tangled itself in his beard somehow.

Heero simply looked at Wufei�s outfit and gave one
brief half-snort. "You people are making it too easy, even for me."

Across the lawn, Duo rolled out from under a pile of
flailing children, only to fall back to the ground, floppy from the hysteria
induced by his first sight of Wufei. He howled and pawed at the ground, trailing
bits of straw as he rolled back and forth.

"It�s not that funny." Petulance tinged
Wufei�s voice.

"Actually, it is," Heero, dedicated to his
role as the straight man, commented.

Duo slowly crawled towards the trio, struck down
repeatedly by intermittent guffaws. Apparently drawn by the sound, Relena and
Hilde stepped out onto the porch of the four-square as Meiran�s father pulled
to the curb with a load of Munchkins of his own. These children mixed seamlessly
with those already cavorting under foot and the whole flock swooped off to the
backyard, bits of glitter and fluff marking their wake.

The group gathered around Trowa�s Honda, each girl
gravitating towards "her" guy. Trowa stood slightly off to the side
and observed the couples. Hilde�s costume was exquisitely detailed, the
gingham frock switching around her knees as she walked, and sequined ruby
slippers glinted in the afternoon sun. She linked arms with Duo, and the pair
made a short skipping circuit of the lawn, blaring out "We�re off to see
the Wizard!" at an ear-shattering volume. Relena, as Glinda, was a pink
confection of tulle and chiffon, princess-pretty with rosy cheeks to match. She
was tittering in excitement, tugging on Heero�s arm as he leaned staidly
against the car. Meiran tugged on bits of Wufei�s costume, smoothing the beard
with expert carelessness. She herself was brilliantly attired; she wore a green
silk blouse that matched Wufei�s suit, and a full skirt blocked off into four
colors - blue, yellow, red and purple - skimmed the tops of her knees. A tall
emerald hat with a dome top sat slightly angled on the top of her head, held in
place by a strap running under her chin.

Hilde and Duo finished their impromptu song and
stumbled back to the cluster of friends. Duo sniggered, "Okay, spill, who
the hell are you supposed to be?"

Meiran drew herself up proudly. "I am General Jinjur, commander of the Army
of Revolt. Surrender the Emerald City, Scarecrow, and I will allow you to escape
with your stuffing intact!"

Wufei pulled away from her. "As the Royal Army of
Oz, I cannot allow you to threaten my king!"

"Um, I still don�t get it." Duo scratched
the side of his head with a gloved hand.

"Of course you don�t get it, you only know the
Velveeta version of Oz!" Meiran whirled on him indignantly. "If you
had read the books, you�d know!" The children had returned to cluster
expectantly around their escorts, and Meiran pointed to one of Hilde�s younger
sisters. "You! Do you know who Wufei and I are dressed as?"

"You�re General Jinjur, and he�s Omby Amby."

Meiran patted the lollipop-toting tot on the head.
"Excellent! Aren�t you embarrassed Duo? Even a seven year old is more
literate than you!"

"Yeah, whatever � so you�ll always beat me at
Trivial Pursuit, who cares? �Sides, no one but a couple little kids and
convention going freaks are going to know who you are. And everyone will know
me!" Duo spun around with a wobble and jabbed himself in the chest for
emphasis. "Now, what about you, Tro, are you gonna try tellin� me
you�re "from the book," too?"

Meiran came instantly to Trowa�s defense; one hand
cocked on her hip, the other pointed forcefully in Duo�s direction. "I
think he looks just perfect! He can be L. Frank Baum."

"Huh-who-what?" Duo did not look convinced.

"The author, stupid. Besides, this is one of the
most detailed period costumes I�ve ever seen." She turned to Trowa and
fingered the heavy fabric of his lapel. Hilde joined her and the two girls
twisted him this way and that, �ohhing� and �awwwing� over the stitches
and the material. After a careful inspection, Meiran announced, "This
isn�t a costume, it�s real."

"Yeah," Trowa confirmed, "Miss Iria
lent it to me."

"Lent it to you?" Mei�s voice rose above
the cacophony of impatient Munchkins. "This is museum quality, Trowa! Who
is this woman?"

"Iria Winner, she lives in the House on the
Hill." Trowa gestured in the House�s direction. "I�ve been doing
some odd jobs for her."

"Oh! I�m related to those people!" Relena
squealed.

"You are?"

"Yes, my great-great-great� how many greats was
it?" She ticked off the numbers on her fingers as she frowned into her own
brow in concentration. "It doesn�t really matter, I suppose! Anyway, my
great-something Uncle Millardo Peacecraft married one of the Winner
sisters�"

"Did they have any children?" Trowa
interrupted.

"Nun-uh. And his sister was engaged to the Winner
heir, but she ended up marrying a Darlian instead. Too bad, that would have been
kind of sweet, brother and sister married to sister and brother!" She
giggled shrilly in delight at the thought, and a minute wave of shivers coursed
up and down Trowa�s spine at the sound.

"Well, now that we�ve had our local history
lesson, can we leave?" Hilde was plainly tired of trying to control the
wired children. After a few false starts, Meiran and Hilde managed to arrange
their siblings in some order unintelligible to Trowa, and they were on their
way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The afternoon quickly darkened towards evening as they
made their rounds. Duo persistently tried to wheedle candy for his non-existent
"sick" brother. Most of the people knew better, but gave him treats
anyway. Trowa hung towards the back of the pack and kept the strays herded
towards the protected center.

A particularly high-pitched giggle from the flitting,
wand-waving Relena caused Trowa to flinch involuntarily. Hilde noticed, and
slowed to walk next to him. She laid a restraining hand on Trowa's arm, and
allowed the others to pull slightly ahead, out of earshot.

"You don't understand about her, do you?"
she asked quietly.

"No, I don't - Heero's so..." he fumbled for
a minute, and failing to find the word, he merely gestured in Heero's direction.
"And she�s so... well, not anything like him. No, I don't get the
attraction at all."

Hilde hmm'ed, accepting his comment with a slight nod.
"Let me ask you another question. Before Relena moved here, how many other
girls did you ever see talking to Heero? Besides Mei and myself?" She
stared up at him intently.

"Well, none, but what..."

"You see, most of the girls we know are afraid of
Heero. Or intimidated - it all works out the same." She waved a few fingers
in Relena's direction. The girl was just completing a series of graceful
pirouettes around her tin man, the pink skirt flared with her motion. "But
Relena walks into school on her first day and just starts talking to him. Like
it's the most natural thing in the world... and more importantly, she expected
him to answer."

"And that's all it took - Heero's that
easy?"

"No, that's not all, but she gave him an
opportunity that no one else ever had. And she sees something special in
him." She laid her hand on Trowa's arm once more, not to restrain, but to
emphasize. "So if he sees something in her, too, who are we to judge? And
if we do, aren't we just like all the people who never gave Heero a chance to be
human?" She tightened her grip gently, to soften the chastisement in her
words.

Trowa watched the interplay between the couple in
question - she was clinging to Heero's arm now, cheeks glowing and eyes intent
on his as he spoke to her in his quiet, steady voice. Heero smiled gently,
intimately at the girl. It was that look, even more than Hilde's words that
thawed Trowa. If Relena could earn such a look from Heero...

"God, I feel like such an ass now!" He
turned to Hilde with a new understanding in his eyes.

"Don't! After all, we don't need you to fall in
love with her, too!" Hilde skipped forward, eager to catch up with the
group now waiting for them at the corner.

"No chance of that!" He called after her as
she ran off to join Duo.

Because he was farther back than the rest, he was the
only one to see the scene unfolding with agonizing lucidity. Relena and Heero
stood off to the side; she was shivering slightly and bouncing up to pointe and
down again as she clung to Heero's arm. Meiran and Wufei were laughingly trying
to herd the passel of Munchkins into a more ordered blob. Hilde caught up with
Duo and jumped up on his back, loudly declaring that her ruby slippers were
killing her feet. No one else saw the small Toto slip between the forest of legs
and out into the street. Trowa started to shout to warn the boy back or alert
the others, but the candy-fueled shrieks of the children were too loud. The
lights from an approaching car illuminated the scene in bouncing, haphazard
spotlights, and as Trowa looked up towards it, he knew with an undeniable
certainty that it would not stop. He ran forward, not pausing to respond to
Hilde's startled "Hey" as he shoved her and Duo out of the way. He
vaguely heard her scream "Nooo!" as his shoes touched the pavement,
but he was too intent on his goal. Time slowed to a near standstill, advancing
slowly frame-by-frame, as each moment brought both the car and Trowa closer to
the now frozen Toto. The loud boom of his own footfalls competed with the
thundering of his heart as he reached down to grab the boy.

For one molasses-slow moment, Trowa believed that he
had been successful, and he hugged the tiny terrier tightly to his chest in
giddy relief. However, when the right corner of the front bumper caught his
back-stretched calf, time collapsed in upon itself and its normal flow resumed.
He only had an instant to twist his body so it would cushion the little one�s
landing before he heard Hilde scream again as the pavement tilted sharply up to
meet him, and a silent blackness fell all around.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

First a hazy golden light filled the sky. Second a
voice like a small stream burbled soothingly at the edges of comprehension. The
pain rushed in soon after, in rolling waves that threatened to overwhelm the
other sensations, but Trowa fought it with a small groan. He could make out a
figure in the light above him, and the murmuring voice coalesced into words of
comfort. "Rest easy, shhh, I�ll take care of you. Just rest." Trowa
struggled to respond, but his mouth refused to obey. Something soft and cool
brushed soothingly against his cheek and he turned instinctively towards it.
"Rashid! I think he�s waking up."

A shadow descended on Trowa, blocking out the sun and
bringing the speaker�s face into sudden relief, and he recognized the
concerned blue eyes immediately. "Quatre! Thank God I�ve found you! Iria
will be so happy." The buzzing of hundreds of half formed thoughts filled
Trowa�s mind, but he stubbornly clung to the frantic need to tell Miss Iria
that Quatre had come home. "Miss Iria� got to get you home to Iria�"
he muttered, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

"Have you ever seen this gentleman before, Rashid?"
Quatre�s voice paused for a moment. "No, neither have I, perhaps my dear
sister has been courting in secret � but there�s nothing to be done about it
now. The fact still remains that his injuries are my responsibility � let�s
get him in the buggy and up to the house." Seasickness swept over Trowa as
he was lifted in two burly arms. "My, I forget how strong you are
sometimes! Although I honestly didn�t expect you to carry him all by
yourself� here let me get the door and then get in first, that way I can hold
his head steady on the ride home."

Trowa forced his eyes back open as he felt himself dip
forward, "Ngg � no � I can sit up � please � " He attempted to
brace himself against the wall and the seat, but the world wavered around him
unpleasantly.

"I�m afraid I haven�t any cushions, so
you�ll just have to lay your head on my lap. I do so apologize for the poor
comfort my bony legs will lend�" Quatre caught Trowa�s hand and drew
the flustered youth firmly down. "Now, now, I insist you lay down! After
all, you were injured on my behalf! My sisters are always telling me that I am
far too distracted for my own good! And now you, kind sir, have been hurt, and
it�s all my fault!" The blonde�s face creased in misery. "I can
not begin to express how deeply it distresses me that I caused you harm, my
friend!" Quatre ran a gentle hand across Trowa�s brow. "And how your
poor head must ache, while I�m selfishly prattling on. I beg you, forgive me!
And my manners are inexcusable, my gallant knight, for I have not even asked
your name!"

"trowa�" Darkness danced down over his
sight once more, and although Trowa struggled to focus on Quatre�s glowing
face, he was soon lost in the gloom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He awoke in a darkened, warm room. His first attempt
at movement was rewarded with a sudden stab of pain through his head, so he
stilled and tried to orient himself. A persistent low noise filled the air, and
as his consciousness solidified, a conversation emerged from the drone.

"Are you sure you�ve never seen this man
before, Sister dear? He seemed quite insistent about knowing you � he was
positively frantic to find you and tell you I was home," a clear tenor
asserted.

"Certainly not, Brother mine! Do you think that I
could ever keep something like that from you? Besides, I am quite pleased with
my Joseph, I have no reason to be in the company of dashing green eyed
strangers!" A laughing female voice answered the first.

"And he did recognize me, but I�ve never seen
him before, either. I am quite positive I would remember meeting a man of his
qualities. Quite a mystery we have been thrust into the midst of, my dear
Watson! Are you up to a new case?"

"Quatre, please don�t be silly! I find it
inappropriate to be playing Sherlock Holmes when you have a strange man passed
out on your bed!"

"Oh dear, Iria, when did you become such an
adult? I do feel dreadful � he was wounded because of me!" The
conversation drew closer, and he struggled with his own unresponsive voice. A
cautious hand brushed the hair back from his forehead, "He is beautiful
isn�t he? And they really were the most absolutely amazing green eyes. I have
never met anyone so brave and selfless in my life! Listen to me! I sound like a
smitten schoolgirl� I have fallen helplessly in love with someone I�ve only
just met! I must be ten kinds of fool�"

"Quatre, you are still the bravest and most
selfless person I have ever known, even if you are the Prince of Idiots! You
know better than to even say such things aloud." The woman�s voice grew
stronger on his other side. "I think your savior rises, Brother."

An arm gently worked its way under his shoulders and
lifted him to a seated position as a slight body moved close to bolster his own.
"Does your head still hurt?" He was only able to groan in response.
The boy chuckled, "Here, drink this, the tincture of morphine should help
ease the pain, Trowa."

He drank greedily from the glass, and when it was
drained, the arm drifted him back to the bed. "Who�s Trowa?" he
managed before the mix of fatigue and narcotics claimed him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next awakening was better, the throbbing pain in
his head considerably dulled. He was lying in a comfortable bed, which was
shrouded on three sides by deep blue velvet curtains, and the open face provided
only a narrow view of the room beyond. A pretty blonde girl, whose golden hair,
restrained by a wide cream colored ribbon, curled down the length of her back
until it reached her incredibly slim waist, sat next to the bed, immersed in a
book. He attempted to rise, and she immediately looked up. "Hello again!
Would you like a glass of water, sir?" She stood and approached him, her
long, lilac gown rustling faintly. She held the glass to his lips until he had
his fill. "My name is Iria. My brother said you thought you knew me. How
are you feeling?"

He looked at her heart shaped face and inquisitive
turquoise eyes for a long moment, brow furrowed in effort as he searched for
some shred of familiarity. "I feel much better, but I don�t seem to know
you at all. Should I? And how did I get hurt?"

"As near as I can figure, my brother, Quatre, was
wandering around oblivious to reality as usual, and found himself in the path of
a stagecoach. You knocked him out of the way and hit your head when the two of
you fell to the ground. Quatre should be back any moment now. He�s bringing
some broth; he said he just knew you would be waking up soon." She leaned
over the bed, blue eyes shining earnestly. "Trowa, I do hope you will find
it in your heart to forgive him for your injury, the little lamb is almost sick
with guilt. He always has had an overdeveloped sense of remorse."

"Is Trowa my name? That�s the second time
someone�s called me that."

"You told Quatre it was, right after you were
hurt. Do you remember anything at all?"

"No�" he started to answer, but he was
interrupted by a dismayed gasp from the door.

"Oh dear! You have amnesia now? And it�s all my
fault!" The tenor voice from earlier belonged to an exquisitely beautiful
young man. Shining waves of white blonde hair framed a fair, delicately featured
face. Quatre�s body was lean with sensuous lines, neither decidedly masculine
nor feminine. But it was the incredible blue eyes that held Trowa�s attention
as the other approached the bed. Quatre paused to hand the food-laden tray he
bore to Iria before carefully easing himself down by Trowa�s side. On closer
inspection, the eyes were not purely blue. Streaks of green and gold radiated
from the irises in starbursts. Trowa lost himself in the twisting channels until
the young man shifted nervously and flushed under his intense gaze.

Quatre�s tentative hand brushed aside Trowa�s
bangs. "The lump looks a little smaller, at least, but you have a terribly
colorful bruise and a rather nasty cut, I�m afraid. I again offer you my
apologies, I feel absolutely wretched that you were injured. And for a stranger
no less, even if you do know me in some confusing way�"

"Stop." Trowa grasped Quatre�s retreating
hand. He drew a slow thumb across the trembling palm to quiet it. "Stop
apologizing. Were you hurt?"

"No." Quatre frowned in disappointment with
his own good health. He attempted to retrieve his hand, but when Trowa clenched
at the retreating fingers, Quatre turned his hand to hold Trowa�s firmly. His
voice fell to an elusive whisper, "Thank you."

"I�m glad you weren�t harmed. Please stop
worrying, my memory will return." Trowa tilted his head to catch Quatre�s
downcast eyes. "You already seem familiar, maybe if you were to tell me of
our relationship�"

"I am at a loss, dear sir, I had never seen you
before yesterday! You spoke of both my sister and myself in intimate terms at
first�" Quatre pulled Trowa�s hand to his own chest, and clutched it
tightly as he continued, "I pledge to you, sir, I will never abandon the
quest to restore you to yourself. Until your memory is repaired, I insist that
you stay here! It will be my personal honor and duty to see that you have all
the comforts a body could desire!" Quatre�s earnest voice tightened,
"Please, sir, I am beholden to you. You have but to command me and I will
do everything in my power to see that your needs and desires are met!"

"Quatre Raberba Winner!" Iria hovered beside
the boy with a bowl of broth. She studied the pair�s joined hands for a beat
too long, and then addressed Quatre with a bemused voice and arched brow,
"Are you sure you weren�t hurt? You seem to be coming down with a touch
of the melodrama. Feed your poor guest before he drowns in sentiment."

Quatre took the proffered bowl, and quivered his chin
at her as she settled in her chair. "You have wounded me, most callous of
sisters! I will surely perish from the heartbreak!"

A soft contralto cut through the blonde�s playful
chatter. "Quatre, have you been reading Geraldine�s dreadful romance
books again?"

"Sir," Quatre focused his attention on
Trowa, and started to feed him careful spoonfuls of the rich broth in a serious
manner. "You mustn�t let my sisters influence your opinion of me, I beg
you!"

"Quatre, you are quite capable of creating
distinct and lingering impressions of yourself without any help from any of
us." The second woman was a few years older and had a much darker shade of
blonde hair than either Iria or Quatre, and it was wound in a wide bun at the
base of her neck. She bowed briefly to Trowa as she claimed a seat next to Iria.

"Phoebe, please! And if I was reading
Geraldine�s books, it�s entirely your fault. It�s true!" Quatre
nodded at Trowa with the air of someone about to impart a shocking confidence to
an old friend. "My spiteful wicked sisters left me trapped, wounded and
languishing up here for days, with only those sordid books within reach. I did
try so hard to resist, but I was weak, and temptation triumphed!" Quatre
sighed, "But my babbling must be tiring. Would you like more broth? Some
tea?"

"No, I�m fine, thank you. And I enjoy listening
to you. Please, go ahead and tell me about how your sisters imprisoned and
tortured you. Although," Trowa nodded at the inordinately pleased women,
"I have a hard time believing that such lovely ladies would�ve been cruel
to you on purpose." He was not prepared for the barely checked spate of
giggles that met his words. Iria�s hands were laced firmly over her mouth and
her cheeks reddened, while Phoebe�s patrician features were twisted into an
almost cruel smirk.

A movement in the bedspread caught his eye, and Trowa
looked down to find Quatre�s hand twisted in the folds, his knuckles white
with tension. His head drooped so far forward that his bangs formed a blonde
curtain over his face. When Phoebe spoke, he flinched with every word,
"Have you thought about my suggestion, Quatre?" Iria snickered around
her fingers. "You could be richer than Rockefeller. Women everywhere across
the world would sing your praises!" Iria�s suppressed sniggers mutated
into a sort of gasping snort, Phoebe gave her a moment�s bland contemplation
before she addressed Trowa, "Quatre uncovered a secret of nature this
autumn which will forever free women from the tyranny of the bustle! Although I
doubt that many women would endure such discomfort for the perfectly rounded and
protruding posterior." Iria lost her battle with laughter; it stormed out
of the battlement of her hands and rallied a weaker bout of chuckles from
Phoebe.

"Hmph! I would think this humor at my expense
might have lost some of its allure by now." Quatre was trying to scowl, but
the effect was ruined by the smile that refused to be camouflaged. He was
obviously fighting the infectious mirth of his sisters, but eventually he too
succumbed, and added his own lush laugh to the chorus. After a few moments,
Quatre covered his face with tremulous hands and drew in a few shuddering
breaths. He uncovered his face and gasped, "Stop, or the poor man will
think he�s ended up in the asylum!"

"I don�t think I�d mind, if all the crazy men
were like you." The doe-eyed look of shock that this comment of Trowa�s
elicited from Quatre was enough to drive the slowly recovering Iria into fresh
gales of giggles.

"I�ll tell the tale, since you are now witness
to the apocalyptic fits of merriment to which these two are disposed."
Phoebe told Trowa with a small shake of her head. "Honestly, Iria, one
would imagine a young lady of your breeding to have a more substantial
character! I fear for poor Joseph Bloom, the dear man shall never know another
day�s peace after he marries you!" The indulgent smile on Phoebe�s face
conflicted with her harsh words.

Phoebe stood rigidly at Iria�s side and recited with
theatrical force and rhythm. "In an endeavor to learn the ways of a frugal
housewife, our Iria decided to make red raspberry preserves to present to our
neighbors at Christmas time. Kindly, foolish Quatre agreed to pick the berries
for her, as the brambles are wild and painfully thick in places. So, one fine
September morning, our young squire girded himself for battle in thick gloves, a
broad hat, and long sleeves. Armed with only a tin bucket, he plunged into the
fray, and picked load after load, from sun-up until late afternoon. But our
young hero had an Achilles� heel; his innocent ignorance had failed to prepare
him properly for the challenge! For poor Quatre had neglected to tuck his pant
legs into his socks. That one simple precaution might have prevented the tragedy
that was to follow�"

"And you say I�m melodramatic!" Quatre
interrupted with a huff. "In short, I stepped on a nest of ground bees.
Several of them flew up my pants legs and proceed to sting me in such a manner
that sitting was quite uncomfortable for some time following the incident. I was
forced to remain prone and exposed on this very bed for several days; I was too
swollen and sore to walk far without assistance. My darling sisters,"
Quatre glared at the women, lips pursed in mock fury, "take too much joy in
the recounting of my humiliation and agony! And the wretched creatures were not
even repentant enough to sit up here and keep me company. And when I asked for
books, the mastermind of the two," He pointed his accusation at Phoebe,
"brought our sister Geraldine�s tawdry and illicit romance novels! And to
this day, I have never told anyone the very worst and most humiliating
part!"

"Quatre, you know we had to make the preserves right away, or all your hard
work and sacrifice would have been wasted!" Phoebe had collected herself
more readily than her siblings; Trowa would have been willing to believe that
she had never once laughed in her life if he had not just seen evidence to the
contrary. "And what could possibly be more embarrassing than laying abed
naked as a babe for three days with your sisters for nursemaids?"

"I would tell you, but I fear that Iria would
have another fit!" Quatre winked at Trowa conspiratorially.

"Quatre!" Iria struggled to appear
dignified, but her flaming cheeks and curling lips prevented it.

Her brother shrugged, then closed his eyes and shook
his head sadly. "I warned you!" Quatre rested a hand on Trowa�s
blanketed knee. "Do you recall meeting Rashid yesterday?" Trowa�s
blank look answered for him. "No? He was the mountain of a man that carried
you into the house and up here, to my room. He stands over six and a half feet
tall, and he�s Arabic � you see, my Father likes to travel, and he met
Rashid in Constantinople some twenty years ago. He�s been with the family ever
since. Rashid stands as our solemn pillar of strength; though he rarely speaks,
each word from his mouth is a jewel of wisdom. Have you been able to gain a
sense of the man?"

"Tall, dark, and silent?" Trowa asked.

"Precisely. Now, please picture me in the depths
of my misery, inflamed in a disfiguring manner and vulnerable to the open air,
lying face down in the very spot you now occupy. It was towards the end of my
second day of convalescences, when I had become quite petulant, that Rashid came
to sit with me. I was struggling unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position
to hold a book, and seeing my distress, Rashid took it upon himself to read
aloud to me. From one of Geraldine�s positively naughty erotic books."
Trowa found himself grinning broadly, both at the story and the incredulous look
on Iria�s face. "So there he sat, for over two hours, and his voice
remained steady throughout, as if he were simply reading to me from the
newspaper. But wait, this is the worst part!" Quatre attempted to forestall
Iria�s repeat descent into uncontrolled merriment. "After he finished the
book, he looked me right in the eye and said, �That was a most stimulating
text, was it not, Master Quatre?� " Quatre grinned good-naturedly as
Phoebe and Iria clutched each other, chortling in a most undignified manner, and
Trowa returned his smile readily.

After a few moments of sighs and eye wiping, Phoebe
stood. "As amusing as this has all been, you, Sir," she focused on
Trowa, "are probably most exhausted by our antics. My dear deprived
siblings are so rarely afforded the opportunity to entertain anyone of any
substance near their own age that I am afraid that we have taken advantage of
your generous nature and taxed your strength too much for today."

Quatre jumped up. "Has it really become that
late?" As Trowa watched, the boy pulled back and bound the heavy draperies
encasing the bed. "We won�t be able to see it as well from here, but
would you care to view the sunset with me?" Trowa�s eyes followed the boy
around the newly exposed, circular room. The space was entirely dressed in
various shades of blue that deepened in hue as they progressed from a curtained
enclosure on the east side of the room, until they had darkened to almost black
surrounding a similar area on the west wall, and faded back to the palest of
blue on the returning curve. Quatre occupied himself with the hangings, and drew
them back to reveal an enormous half circle window and an equally spacious seat
underneath it. "I almost always watch from here, but we should be able to
see fairly well from the bed." The blonde returned to his spot by Trowa�s
side. "I find that both sunrise and sunset have the most calming qualities,
although I do confess that I like the sunset better � I am filled with an
inexpressible feeling of relief as the light fades from the sky, knowing that my
family has safely made its way to the end of another day. A most foolish notion,
I suppose." Quatre�s smile lost its self-depreciating edge when Trowa
shook his head in silent dissent.

Iria, finally calmed, approached the bed. "I do
hope we haven�t frightened or shocked you terribly!" She continued with a
small smile when Trowa gracefully disagreed. "Then, I bid you a good
evening, and will visit you again tomorrow, if you wish." She turned to go,
but faced him again, her voice quavering minutely as she spoke, "I can not
thank you enough, for saving Quatre. I love my brother, Trowa, more than I�ve
ever told him, and � if I had lost him�" Her voice threatened to fail
her, and Phoebe came to her side to lend her a supporting arm.

"You have my thanks as well. May you pass the
night in peace, kind stranger." Phoebe tightened her hold on Iria and
pulled her away. "Quatre," She hesitated in the doorway, her eyes dark
and serious as they briefly flicked over Trowa. "Take care." She let
the words drift between them, a silent code, and then she glided noiselessly out
the door.

"Perhaps I should let you get some rest�"
Quatre gathered himself to follow.

"No!" Trowa was shocked at his own
vehemence. He softened his voice to ease the startled look from Quatre�s face.
"Please, I feel like I�ve been asleep for years. Could you stay with me,
for a while?"

"Of course, friend Trowa!" Quatre�s face
shone softly in the golden late afternoon light. He placed both his hands over
Trowa�s, resting them there lightly for a moment before curling his smaller
fingers tightly around. His cheeks glowed. "I would like to call you
friend, if I may. I�ve never truly had a close male companion my own
age." His voice nervously raced, "I�ve not been deprived or
sequestered, there are other boys around town, but I haven�t much in common
with them. They mostly think I�m peculiar. And I suppose they�re right, but
you don�t seem to mind so much, so I thought perhaps that�"

"Shh..." Trowa freed a hand to lay two
restraining fingers on Quatre�s lips. "Calm down." He slid his palm
up to cup Quatre�s cheek, and his thumb brushed lingeringly across the arc of
Quatre�s mouth. The blonde swallowed audibly, his breath caught in his chest.
The tips of his baby-fine hair tickled the top of Trowa�s hand and his smooth
skin felt like brushed velvet underneath. "Quatre, would you play your
violin for me?"

Quatre dislodged Trowa�s hand with a vigorous nod,
and began to stand. "I� yes� it�s right over here, I�ll
just�" Quatre halted in mid-rise and turned back to Trowa, his features
contorted in confusion. "How did you know I played the violin?"

Trowa shrugged, "Did you play for me while I was
asleep?"

"No, I wanted to, but I was strictly forbidden by
Phoebe." A frown wrinkled his forehead as he stared perplexedly at Trowa.
"Who are you? How do you know things about me? I don�t�"

"I don�t either. Please, play � maybe it will
help us both to think."

"As you wish." Quatre spoke no further, but
a small, puzzled scowl twisted his features as he prepared to play. After a few
restless moments of tuning and testing his instrument, he placed it to his chin
and drew a deep breath. Looking directly at Trowa, he allowed a brief smile to
soften his face before drawing the bow across the strings. Quatre�s whole body
played. He swayed and bowed with each turn of the music, instantly ensorcelled
in a spell of his own weaving.

The music flowed forth flawlessly in a manner that
bespoke endless hours of practice on Quatre�s part. However, it was not the
technical precision of the playing that ensnared Trowa; it was the boy�s pure
emotional force that elevated the music from a simply perfect performance to an
elaborate unfurling of Quatre�s very essence. Trowa�s first impressions of
Quatre had painted a portrait of the young man as a na�ve and vivacious young
innocent; the Quatre now revealed by the music was a sensuous and complex
creature who willingly, trustingly exposed his soul for Trowa�s appraisal. The
details of the melody faded from Trowa�s mind, revealing a thread of unmasked
longing as a constant theme; wrapping around joy and despair, intertwining
through pain and optimism, that drew out echoing emotions from his own soul, and
bound them to Quatre�s. He felt as if Quatre had unraveled them both, note by
note, emotion by emotion, and was now knitting them back together as a stronger
whole.

Quatre stood against the window, eyes closed in
rapturous concentration, as the sunset streaked around him and kindled a
red-gold fire in his ashen hair. A shock of recognition shot through Trowa.
"Quatre!" he called out softly, and the music was cut off mid-phrase.
The moment was both achingly familiar and teasingly vague, and Trowa buried his
face in his hands with a frustrated cry as the memory stubbornly refused to
become tangible. Instantly, Quatre came to his side and wound a comforting arm
around Trowa�s shoulders.

"Trowa! Please, let me help you! Are you in
pain?" Concern lowered the timbre of Quatre�s voice. He ran his free hand
over Trowa�s face and brushed aside his hair. "Does your head hurt?"

"A bit." Trowa uncovered his face and leaned
into Quatre�s shallow embrace. "But your hand is kind." Slender
fingers carded nimbly through Trowa�s hair as the still room cocooned the pair
in a companionable silence. Trowa felt his muscles gradually began to protest
the stooped posture necessary to conform to Quatre�s hold, and he shifted
slightly.

"I�ve developed a bit of a cramp, myself."
The warm words stroked Trowa�s ear. "Just let me move back a bit�"
Quatre released him and scooted back to the headboard, placed a pillow on his
lap and a bolster behind his back, and then patted the pillow as invitation to
Trowa. "Rest your head here."

Their eyes met, and unspeakable, unanswerable
questions flowed between them in the dying light. Quatre blushed, but remained
mute, and Trowa sensed that accepting the overt offer of comfort from Quatre
meant also accepting the implicit offer of an as of yet indefinable more. They
were paused on the boundary between friendship and a deeper sort of affection;
Trowa�s reaction would either stunt or encourage the emotions taking root
between them. He silently nodded, and then slowly moved to comply, unable to
contain a sigh of contentment as he nestled into the pillow. Quatre hesitantly
resumed stroking Trowa�s hair and face, and began humming a hushed melody.
Trowa closed his eyes and concentrated on the steady, simply progression of
notes, and followed their spiraling path until he was led into an untroubled
sleep as the last of the light faded from the room.
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