April 198 AC
Quatre stood at the bay window, staring out into the perfectly manicured lawns of his estate. Dressed comfortably in a familiar khaki pants and one of Trowa’s green sweaters, hands slipped into his pockets, framed by the window, the blond CEO of Winner Enterprises looked the picture-perfect example of a young billionaire at ease.
Quatre was more than just a billionaire, however, and he was nothing near at ease in spirit. Indeed, the young man was troubled deeply by thoughts that had, up until most recently, been kept at bay by day after day of full schedules and his fellow pilots to distract him.
Now, however, there was nothing to distract him from his thoughts. Wufei had enlisted Heero and Duo’s help on a difficult assignment, and Trowa had also agreed to tag along and help out as needed, leaving Quatre behind to attend the all-important meetings that swallowed his daily agenda in large gulps. Only, those all-important meetings had been cancelled thanks to a fire at one of the meeting halls and had yet to be rescheduled. Leaving him free, completely free… free to do nothing but think, and so he found himself standing in his home office, alone, thinking of a place he’d visited only once before, but that called out to him, like it was a part of him, or he a part of it…It called out to him through his blood, tingling his every nerve ending with recognition.
He’d only been there once, only seen the sea of white sands that stretched out across the land, running headlong into the shining, deep blue waters of the ocean. The palm trees and brightly colored houses and tents that decorated the otherwise bare landscape… The Sands. The ancestral home of the Raberbas, where his mother’s family had been born and raised…. Where the Tellurium Crystal lay.
He remembered his first visit, five months ago. He’d gone there and met the seven Behr sisters and Rashid. The one girl, Blaire, had taken him to the house where his mother had grown up; she led him through the halls until they stood before that door—the door to the Crystal’s Room. He had entered… alone… and that’s when the visions came. His mother, and her twin brother, his uncle… They had talked to him, asking him who he was and what his purpose was.
"To protect." His purpose in life was to protect… to protect not only the present, but the past and future, as well. Yes, he accepted that purpose, he accepted his purpose in life and for once, in a very long time, he’d accepted himself as who he was.
He wanted to go back. No, he *needed* to go back, he realized.
Since his lover and friends were going to be gone for the week anyway, surely no one would mind terribly if he ducked out for a couple of days to return to the Sands, right? Before he realized he’d made the decision, Quatre’s hand was on his phone, dialing his secretary’s number. He would be in the Sands by morning the next day.
Quatre laughed as he hugged Rashid firmly. "My friend, I have missed you!"
"As have I, you, young Master," the heavy bearded man replied, affectionately wrapping an arm around the blond man’s smaller frame, as if Rashid was afraid of crushing him.
Sitting on the veranda of the Raberba ancestral home some time later, Quatre calmly sipped his tea as he contemplated the renovation of his family’s home. It looked as beautiful and fresh as he remembered it in his visions.
Visions? Is that what they really were? He felt a hint of loneliness when he realized there was no one alive who could answer all of his questions about his family and this place… about the crystal.
"My friend," he said suddenly, settling his teacup back into its saucer. "I have many questions and few places, it seems, to find answers."
Rashid, who had just stepped out that moment, in time to hear Quatre speak, answered, "Than you have come to the right place."
"Have I?’ Quatre asked more of the wind than of Rashid. "I wonder… I feel the pull this place has on my soul, and I fear I might never be free of it."
The large man nodded, agreeing with his young master’s astute awareness of his home, and said not a word.
As if by some unspoken agreement, they had used the day to discuss matters closer to the present; ignoring the past that had called Quatre home to the land of the Sands, and instead talking about family and friends still alive. Quatre learned that the seven Behr sisters were actually Rashid’s nieces and had left the Sands shortly after the turn of the year. The girls had yet to check in with their uncle as to their whereabouts, but Rashid assured him that that was a common practice for the independent women his sister had birthed. That did not stop Quatre’s disappointment in not being able to talk with the girls—he had hoped to learn more about them; especially the one named Blaire who seemed to know so much about him. But, then, if they were Rashid’s nieces, then perhaps it wasn’t so special a thing that she should know him. Still, he would just have to wait his chance to talk with the sisters.
In return for Rashid’s revelation of his family’s well being, Quatre told Rashid all the news of his sisters and their families and how matters were going on at home with the five ex-pilots all living in the same house as they never really had during the war. Needless to say, the Manganac leader had much cause for laughter, though he did try not to laugh with Quatre as the young man gave the older an account of his sisters’ reactions to his choice of lifestyle. It was an effort in vain.
"Farrah has known since last year, of course," Quatre was saying, wiping some tears from his eyes. "She’s been pressuring me into going to gay clubs all year and throwing a fit when I refused. Of course, they really couldn’t say too much against it since both Fatina and Najila are in relationships with other women." Quatre shook his head. "They seemed more upset about the thought that I wouldn’t be able to have a son to name my heir until I pointed out that I could always have one special ordered."
Rashid nodded, sharing an amused smiled with his young master. "Many fine men start out that way."
Quatre nodded as well, allowing their conversation to lull into silence. "Thank you," he finally said quietly.
"Master?"
Quatre smiled into his teacup. "For accepting me even when I didn’t yet accept myself," he answered. "I used to hate my father, you know," he went on casually.
Rashid wisely held his tongue, allowing the young man to talk.
"Each horrible lesson, each horrible tutor… I hated more convincing myself that I liked it, convinced myself so well that I actually believed it for a while, and all for a man who cared more abut his image and job than about his family. That’s why my sisters stayed away. They didn’t like him anymore than I did… except I loved him, too, and I hated myself for loving a man who couldn’t love me back. I didn’t even understand why… I didn’t know what love was really supposed to be like until Trowa…."
Blue eyes looked up from his teacup, looked out across the night-darkened sand and sea. "You did not ask me to change who I am; you accepted me for who I was, even when I didn’t know myself, even when I was only my father’s son."
Rashid stood up and moved to leave Quatre alone, but he paused beside the boy’s chair, planting a large hand on the young blond’s shoulder and looked down at the golden-covered head. "In my eyes, Master Quatre, you were already someone special," the dark Manganac soldier said gravely. "And I know thirty-nine and four other men who agree with me."
He let his words hang in the air between them before leaving to go to bed.
That was only an hour ago, but the words and their meaning were still turning summersaults in Quatre’s head. He couldn’t fall asleep, even though he’d been laying in bed for more than forty minutes. He really missed Trowa—that was part of the problem, he knew. He’d gotten too comfortable curling up into the other man at night, falling asleep and waking up in Trowa’s arms…
The other part of his problem was his surroundings.
He was in his mother’s room—the room she grew up in, lived in until the day she married Quatre’s father and moved to the stars. He had explored the room and its adjoining rooms briefly when he’d first been shown to the room and told whom its previous occupant had been. It was softly decorated, with rich rosewood furniture and creamy white gauze hanging from the walls and windows and around the bed. There was a large but empty closet and a doubly large washroom with a deep, sunken whirlpool bath and a spacious refresher, too.
Looking around the bathroom now as he sat in his boredom and insomnia, he noticed something that had escaped his earlier inspection.
A seam in the wall behind the door. Somewhat intrigued but the musings of secret passages, Quatre got up, washed his hands, and then went over to the seam mark. He ran his hands up along the wall, feeling nothing out of place.
Reach out.
Quatre frowned. It hadn’t been the first time he’d heard voices in his head, to be sure, but it was the first time he’d heard the voice so clearly. Most times when he’d experienced flashes of insight, they had come as more of an impression of words, their meanings. But this time, it was as if someone was standing right next to him and whispering in his ear. He knew enough, however, to trust his insights and without really questioning it, Quatre began to lower the psychic shields he kept in place around him, to hold himself separate from the world.
It was like opening a floodgate. Colors flashed before his eyes, even though his lids were shut; songs swam around his consciousness; and his hands moved over the wall with a familiar touch. A draft of wind wafted past his face, the smell of old musk tickling his nostrils, and he opened his eyes to see the wall gaping open before him.
Something inside him quickened—it was dark beyond the portal and no light from the bathroom penetrated the shadows. A moment of titillation—what was in there? What would he find?
Cautiously, he stepped past the threshhold, groping blindly along the wall for a light source.
"Illuminate," Quatre said even as the thought pressed into his mind. A soft light began building in the walls and Quatre found himself standing in a passageway. He looked forward and back as his eyes slowly adjusted to the softly lit hallway. Which way?
Without realizing he’d made the decision, his feet began moving towards the back. He walked on for several minutes before reaching a staircase. Up or down? Down. One, two, five, sixteen, turn left. A new hallway, threads in the wall lighting the way for him. Here, stop.
Quatre raised a hand to the wall, pressing his palm against the seemingly stone surface. He gasped and almost pulled back when a glowing green hand print outline highlighted his hand, but something held him fast to the wall. A blue bar of light scanned from his fingertips to his heel of his palm and back up again. And then the words "Quatre Raberba Winner" scrolled above his fingertips in shining yellow-gold letters. "Welcome."
The wall before him seemed to just vanish and Quatre stood in front of another dark room.
"Welcome home, my son."
Quatre’s lips parted, his eyes sparkling with recognition of the soft, loving voice. His throat swelled with heart-wrenched tears as he breathed out one word: "Mother."
Quatrina Raberba Winner’s specter stood inside the room, shining before him, smiling at him. Beside her stood her twin, Kiell Raberba. Both beings were dressed in loose fitting white robes that hung off their shoulders and pooled around their feet. Quatrina’s long golden hair flowed unrestrained down her back; Kiell’s own unruly shag brushed devilishly along his shoulders. They stood close together, Kiell’s hand resting at the small of Quatrina’s back beneath the cascade of pale spun gold. Two pairs of azure blue eyes shined brightly as they stared at him.
"We’ve been waiting for you, Quatre," Kiell said, his voice as soft as his sister’s.
"Ever since that first day," she said, "When you first came to visit us, you have been ever on our minds and in our hearts."
"When you told us that… that your mother had died," Kiell went on, moving closer to his sister, "and that you were never given the chance to know her… that you didn’t know what the Tellurium Crystal was—"
"That your father was dead, too, and Kiell—" Quatrina lifted her hand to her brother’s chest. "That you did not know Kiell…"
"You are the last of the Raberbas, Quatre," Kiell said when his sister’s words failed her, lifting his chin with pride.
"There are things that you must know," Quatrina returned, stepping forward as her own chin lifted a notch or two. "Things that Kiell and I have grown up knowing and that you should have known, too." She stopped several paces away from him and held her hand out to her son. "It is past time you learn these things, my son."
"You are different from other people, Quatre," the man said, stepping forward now as well. "You are special."
"You’re a Raberba," she said with strong conviction. "With that comes responsibilities."
Slowly, Quatre stepped towards them, drawn in by their presence on his being. It was as if they were calling out to him without saying a word. And he went, agreeably.
"But first, let us talk of the crystal," they both said, and the darkness around them faded and Quatre found himself out on the veranda again. Only, it was a beautiful spring day, not nighttime like he knew it to be. Kiell and Quatrina were sitting at the table with a condensing pitcher of iced tea between them.
She motioned for Quatre to join them and he did, watching both their faces intently as they began to talk.
"The crystal allows us to see and talk to each other, Quatre," his mother told him. "It allows us to record our thoughts and memories, in a way, to record our very being. With the crystal, you can see back into the past—"
"Or forward, into the future," Kiell picked up. "To you, Quatre, we are of the past."
"But to us," Quatrina said, smiling fondly at him, "You are our future."
"But one thing remains the same, Quatre," Kiell said sternly.
"No matter what," his sister agreed, looking now sadly at the young man across from her.
"Though you can see forward and past with the crystal," Kiell said solemnly, "you can only talk to direct descendents or ancestors of yourself."
"Direct…?" Quatre asked, frowning and leaning forward.
Kiell nodded. "Yes. I can see you, your sons, your daughter, your grand-children and even your great-great-great grandchildren, and they can see and talk to me when they activate the crystal," Kiell said slowly, carefully. "But I can not see or talk to any of your sisters, Quatre, even if they were to physically touch the crystal. Your mother—"
"Because they are of my blood," Quatrina continued, "if they should ever touch the crystal, we could talk, if their blood is strong enough to connect with the crystal, of course—‘flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood,’" she quoted. "But even if they did come here, Quatre," she said forcibly. "Even if they touched the crystal, activated its properties, they would never be like you, my son, because you are the heir to the Raberba."
"The Raberba," Quatre turned the words over his tongue. He frowned as he watched their serious facial expressions. "You said that before, the last time I was here. But I don’t think I understand. What *is* ‘The Raberba’?"
Both Kiell and Quatrina leaned back in their seats, sharing a look. "The Raberba," Kiell finally said, "is usually a male descendent, but there have been a few cases where a female took position as head of the family."
"Then the Raberba is just another title meaning the person who is the head of the family?" Quatre asked, leaning forward, over the table.
"Yes," Quatrina answered slowly. "And no. It’s not always the first born child who leads their family, Quatre," his mother tried to explain. "But the one who’s more destined; whose soul is stronger and brighter and more pure."
"Our father," Kiell said, resting a hand over his sister’s, "was the second of two sons, and yet he was chosen to lead."
" ‘Chosen’?" Quatre’s frown deepened.
"Yes, by the crystal," his mother answered. "Kiell would have been the next leader of our clan," she told him, squeezing her brother’s hand affectionately, "had he lived to do so. Since he did not, his son has been chosen to lead our clan," she said as delicately as possible.
"I have a cousin?" Quatre asked feeling more confused than before.
Quatrina and Kiell shared a guarded look before Kiell hedged, "Well, yes, actually, you do. Two, to be truthful. But those two aren’t who we’re talking about, Quatre. We’re talking about you."
"Me? But I thought you said you’re—" The words choked off somewhere between his throat and his tongue.
"You *are* the next Raberba, Quatre," his mother spoke quickly into the silence that seemed to permeate the air suddenly, her voice ever soft yet firm as well.
"That is why it is important for us to tell you these things," Kiell added. "We want you to know the truth, because we value truth, love, and justice above all things."
"I did not love Isoldar Winner," Quatrina said, staring across the table at her son. "But I agreed to marry him. Our wedding put an end to an ancient family feud and allowed two adversaries and competitors to merge and join forces. Symbolically, that union is you, Quatre. It is one of the reasons I insisted you have my surname, too. That, and the fact that wherever you might go in the free world, you could use the reputation of the Raberba family to help you."
Despite his raging thoughts, Quatre had no trouble falling asleep the second time he went to bed that night. His dreams were weird, though—fragments of memories he’d never experienced; disjointed scenes of lives never lived. Still, he woke up the next morning, late but refreshed, to late morning sunlight pouring through the northern window. For minutes on end, he just laid there, letting his thoughts pick up where ever they chose.
31 sisters. Or half-sisters, as it were…
"It’s not bad, really."
Quatre looked over at the other side of the bed, not even surprised at finding a complete stranger in bed with him. A young man, about his own age of 17, Quatre guessed, with slightly darker blond hair that his own, almost a golden brown, and eyes that danced between being blue-green or green-blue. Quatre wasn’t sure. The boy was studying his fingernails with a somewhat guilty expression when he peeked over at Quatre.
"You’re not going to yell at me for coming here, are you?"
"Not that I know of," Quatre answered, pushing up to sit up in the bed with the other boy. "Is there a reason I should?"
The boy grinned at him—a devilish grin if ever there was one, and Quatre was reminded immediately of Duo. "Nope! Kiell told me to stay here and wait for you, so you can’t yell at me for following orders."
"Kiell did, huh?" Quatre folded his hands in his lap, wondering who the other boy was. "And what did he say to do once I got here?" The boy shrugged.
"I guess he wanted us to talk or something," he answered finally.
Quatre thought for a moment and then asked, "Do you know what the Tellurium crystal is?"
"Of course," the boy frowned at him. "That’s like one of the first things I ever remember. Coming down here and you taking us into the crystal room and telling us all about the crystal. You scolded me ‘cause you thought I wasn’t paying attention, and then you told me how very important it was and how I should be respectful and all that stuff," he said, sounding very bored with a speech it sounded like he’d probably heard a million times over.
"I showed you the crystal?" Quatre asked, and as he did, he had a sense of time slipping around him. It was hard to explain, the feeling of the very fabric of time, sliding across your skin.
When the boy nodded again, Quatre asked him to tell him what he learned about the crystal.
"Well," the boy began, "The Tellurium Crystal is the lifestone of the Raberbas. It allows us to slip in and out of time, to see the past, present, and future. It allows us to see each other," he looked at Quatre, "when we haven’t even met yet. You don’t know me, but I know you, because you haven’t met me, but I’ve known you my entire life. Because the crystal has touched us both, we can see each other. Because you’ve touched the crystal and filled it with your memories and thoughts and stuff, I can meet you when you’re just a kid like me, before you’re the big, all-powerful CEO of WEI."
Quatre smiled. "I hate to tell you this, but you’re too late. I’ve been CEO for over a year, now."
The boy’s blue eyes widened. "Damn, you really *were* young, huh?" Quatre nodded and a depressed looked crossed the boy’s face. "So I guess that means I won’t be able to see Sandrock, huh?"
"Um, no," Quatre answered, somewhat surprised that the boy knew the name of his gundam. He shook his head to clear it of thoughts of the white mobile suit and asked instead, "So if Kiell sent you here to talk with me, what do you think it is he wanted us to talk about?"
"I don’t know," the boy answered, getting out of bed and walking over to the window. "I guess maybe he thinks you were mad at him or something. Kiell’s real sensitive about stuff like that, you know? He feels real bad when people he likes are mad at him."
Quatre studied the boy’s movements. He was young—just a kid, even though they were probably the same age—and at some point in time, they obviously knew each other well. Who was he? His son? His grandson? And then the words that the boy was saying began to take root. Kiell? Mad at Kiell? He had said some things last night which may have led the other man to believe that, hadn’t he? "Mad?"
"Yeah, well," the boy shrugged. "I know I really hate it when you get mad at me." Seemingly large blue eyes looked up at him from a face turned down with sheepish uncertainty. "I mean, you can get pretty scary when you’re mad, Dad."
"I don’t mean to be scary, I’m sorry if I’ve scared you," Quatre replied, standing up now also to move to the window.
The boy shrugged again, and this time shot Quatre a conspirator’s knowing grin. "It’s alright. I’m sure I deserved it lots of time." He motioned out the window, pointing at something. "My girlfriend," he told him, even though Quatre saw no one. "No, you can’t see her now, I know," and the boy grinned once more at him, "but you’ll know her well one day." Obviously the girl in question had said something that Quatre could not hear because the boy turned back to the window and called down, "Alright! I’ll be right there!"
"I’ve gotta go," he said to Quatre, heading for the door with a glow on his face. "But it was sure nice talking to you, Dad. It’s been sure nice talking to you."
The other boy was gone before Quatre had a chance to say goodbye. And it wasn’t until several seconds later that something dawned on him. "Dad," he whispered, a proud, beaming smile splitting his face. "He called me ‘Dad’."
Quatre sat in the library, surrounded by the books his mother and her family had read, soaking in the absolute calm that flowed through this place. A soft spring breeze wafted up off the ocean and through the house, chasing away the punishing heat of the desert, leaving the room cool and comfortable. This was the place that Quatre sought out to think over all he had learned. Here he thought he would be left alone in his solitude. He was wrong.
Half an hour after Quatre had retreated into the library, the doors were thrust open, startling him from his quiet contemplation.
"Did you think I would not know?" Quatrina vented, storming into the room, leaving the doors to bang shut behind her. "Did you think I would not find out?"
"Trina…?" Quatre felt his lips move, felt his muscles tighten as he stood—only, Quatre was still sitting, and Kiell now stood in front of him. "What’s wron—"
She flew at him, thumping her fists on his chest. "How could you?" she cried over and over again. "How could you?"
"Trina, Trina," he cooed, leading her back over to the sofa—Quatre quickly changed seats. "What’s wrong? Please tell me. You know I’ll do everything in my power to fix it."
"You can’t fix this," she whispered, her face buried against his shoulder and throat. "Why Amaria, Ki? Why her? You could have turned to anyone you liked…"
Kiell’s face pinched and his eyes fell shut. "I’m sorry, Trina," he whispered against her hair.
"Sorry?" she cried, pushing away from him angrily. "Sorry! Damn you, Ki! If Aba Behr were *ever* to find out she was in any way unfaithful to him do you know what he would do to her?" She tugged at her hands to free herself of him, but he staunchly refused to let go, pulling her back to him and into his arms.
"I’m sorry, Trina," he repeated softly. "There is no excuse I know, but know it was not my intention to sleep with her—"
"Intention or not, Ki, it does not change the truth," she said, her body relaxing and falling back into his. "She’s with child, Ki…your child."
His body stiffened there on the sofa where he held her against him. "Are you sure?" he breathed, dare not trusting his voice too much more.
She nodded, her face rubbing against his chest. "If Aba were to ever find out…. Isoldar only neglects my children and me. He would only be upset if we were to tarnish his precious reputation; But Aba…. Oh, Kiell, if he was ever to find out, he’d surely kill her—"
"Oh, sweet Allah…" He buried his face in Quatrina’s blonde curls, as if to smooth away the consequences of his actions. "Surely she will eliminate the child."
"Oh, Ki," she cried, holding him closer. "How could you even think of such a thing? Amaria would no more harm a child of yours than she would knowingly do harm to you. You are too dear to her heart, my dear brother."
"Then… then, I will stay away," he vowed. "And give Aba no cause to suspect…"
"Could you really stay away?" Quatrina asked with quiet disbelief, looking up at him.
He looked down at her, his eyes shining with conviction. "If it was to save my child," he whispered, "I could do it in a heartbeat."
She seemed to think this over before finally nodding her assent. "And what will you tell Rashid, pray tell? You know he worships you so."
"Rashid is yet a boy—"
"He’s in his twenties!"
Kiell sighed. "Perhaps I should offer to let him join me. Times are changing, Trina. The scent of war flies on the wind."
"I have seen the enemy, and he is us," she quoted.
"Yes… yes… I’ve been thinking," he told her. "I think perhaps I should see into reinstating the legacy of the Manganacs."
She gasped. "But—Kiell! We have been peaceful for decades now!"
"War is coming, Trina. You can sense it yourself," he said solemnly. "Would you leave our people untrained, effectively defenseless, when you know we will not always be here to guide them?" He shook his head. "No, they must be given the means to protect themselves until the next Raberba can come to them."
"But *you’re* the next Raberba," she cried.
He sighed again, and gently kissed her. "Quatrina Raberba, we both know I will not live long enough to guide him. I will train Rashid—"
"But—!"
"So that when our son returns home," he placed a hand over her empty womb, "he will not lack guidance."
"You seem so certain that you will die, Ki," she whispered brokenly, "when we do not know that as fact."
The heavy sigh tore from his chest. "I have seen our future, Trina, and we are no more than specters from the past."
"Rashid?"
The dark-furred man turned around at the desk he was seated at and stood immediately. "Master Quatre? You were looking for me?"
"How well did you know Kiell Raberba?"
For a moment the other man just stared at the blond Winner, and then he managed a, "Sir?"
"You’ve lived here all your life, Rashid," Quatre said calmly. "Your sister and my mother were good friends, and you knew Kiell Raberba. How well? What can you tell me about him?" He moved into the room and closed the door behind him.
Quatre spent three more days at the Sands. Many of those hours he spent locked inside a room with the leader of the Manganac soldiers. Others he spent by himself, seemingly talking to himself. Before the end of his first full day at the Sands, word had begun to spread across the land, carried on the tongue of the Manganac people. Everyone had the same thing to say.
The Raberba had been returned to them.
End Part 7
Andrea Readwolf
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