12 June 2000
And I'm sittin' down here
just watching you,
And I'm thinkin'
Where has all the love gone?
Where's the love gone to?
Don't leave.
You got me hurting.
Don't leave.
Faithless: Don't Leave
Quatre sighed deeply as he let his head fall backward onto the passenger seat's hard headrest. Blue eyes wearily slid up to the digital panel that displayed how much time remained in their flight to the L2 cluster.
Two hours.
The Arabian sighed again and shifted, careful not to disturb his sleeping koi in the seat next to him. Briefly, Quatre considered relieving the ship's pilot from command and taking control of the shuttle himself. At least it would give him something to do as well as a much need distraction from the old memories and questions his mind was dredging up
How is she?
Is she still the same person?
Is her laugh still as pure?
Quatre's heart pulsed a bit harder. He doubted it, all of it, as sad kind eyes drifted down to the worn pale green plastic star held tightly in his right hand.
Will she remember?
AC 188
"I want to show you something, but I don't know if you're cool enough to see it" the chubby nine year old teased as she swung her legs back and forth in the air, eyes fixed on her blonde brother across the small room. Quatre shot a hurt look at his older sister as she hopped down from her perch on the practice room's black piano.
"I think I am." He replied defensively.
An easy laugh tumbled from her lips before she responded. "Well I know you think you are silly, but _are_ you?" she quipped, consciously softening her words so that they would not bite her little brother's sensitive heart.
The Winner heir sighed dejectedly as he rested his precious violin into its plum velvet lined case. His eyes watched the girl's reflection in a cabinet's mirrored door as she danced her way over to the room's only entrance, white over-sized shirt billowing with the movement.
"Will father be mad?" the question slipped from the boy's lips before he could stop it as he shut the instrument case and turned around, knowing the answer as always was yes.
Blair twirled like a ballerina on the ball of her boot covered left foot, arms stretched up high, right leg raised and bent to keep balance. Facing her brother's severe expression the humor faltered in her eyes, but not her face as she answered his question with a shrug. Slowly she lowered her arms to cross in front of her chest and dropped her foot to the floor. "Who cares. What's he going to do? Send me away sooner?" the words were filled with false humor and a barb that was becoming all too common in her young voice.
Quatre winced at the reminder of their father's decision, knowing the suggestion he had to make for his sake more than hers. "Maybe if we didn't cause anymore trouble..."
"Maybe if I had my brain taken out. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Everything's a maybe. Come on, let's go have some fun," she coaxed, voice rising and falling in pitch as she rolled up to her toes and then back down to her heels, long curly hair swaying freely with the movement.
"Fun can be good," the younger Winner murmured, an uninhibited smile turning up his lips, clear blue eyes sparkling.
"Or wonderfully bad," came Blair's immediate reply, brown eyes flaring with much more than just a hint of mischief.
"What now?" Quatra asked, head tilted to one side, eyes fixed on the eight-foot by eight-foot metal ventilation grate he stood in front of.
"We go inside," was the only reply he received, as Blair's fingers drifted alongside the access point, undoing any latches they found.
Quatre's eyes widened a fraction. "I...inside?"
The curly haired girl cast a bemused look over her shoulder as the grate swung easily open on well-greased hinges. "Inside." She repeated before pulling out a small flashlight from her purple pant's pocket and climbed into the dusty metal shaft.
Sighing softly, the blonde sibling followed her, his mind not entirely convinced that that was such a good idea but his heart excited by the promise of adventure. That is how it always was with them; one would plot and explore while the other hesitantly followed their sibling's footsteps into the great unknown of their playground called L4.
The two explorers ducked down as the ceiling of their metal cave dropped upon entering yet another section of the labyrinth.
"We've been at this a half hour. How much longer?" Quatre asked, tugging on the edge of his sister's baggy white shirt. Blair opened her mouth to answer, and froze as the whirl of white noise ceased momentarily and a familiar voice drifted though the air from an unknown location.
"I give her a month at best."
"What do you want from me."
"She's talented. I believe she may be able to help you."
"Aren't we taking a risk getting both involved?"
"It's one I'm willing to take."
"Fine, I'll keep an eye on her. But if I don't like her I'm shipping her back to you. I don't have time to baby sit and coddle her."
"You won't have to."
"Hn. We'll see. G out."
The elder sibling cocked her head to one side, eyebrows drawing together tightly, slightly irritated, but intrigued all the same. "That was the Instructor wasn't it?" Blair whispered, as if afraid the scientist would appear before them if she murmured his name too loudly. Quatre's blond head bobbed in agreement, his expression a mirror image of hers. "Strange."
Shaking her head Blair pointed the flashlight ahead and continued leading their expedition through the colony's ventilation system, eyes following the trail of footsteps from her previous journey. As if on command, large exhaust fans several sections over kicked on, their mechanical murmur and rush of air drowning out all noises and conversation from the outside world.
"Almost there," she murmured as they rounded yet another corner only this time their eyes were greeted with a splash of light emitted by several flash lights in the corridor a few meters ahead. "And we're here," Blair cheerfully announced as they entered the illuminated area, eyes closing to slits in reaction to the harsh light.
"Where exactly is here?" Quatre asked as he trailed his fingers over the dust covered metal walls.
The elder child shook her head fiercely. "Not gonna tell you. It's a surprise. Close your eyes and then lie down."
"Alright," the blonde boy replied obediently as he shut his eyes and sunk to the floor. The soft click of multiple flashlights being switched off entered his ears as the rosy glow that was the world behind his eyelids faded into darkness.
"Open!" Blair commanded, joy and excitement ringing clear in her voice as she dropped down beside her brother and rolled onto her back pillowing her head on her arms. An instant after Quatre heard her voice, his blue eyes few open and breath caught at the site they beheld.
Well over 200 half-dollar and quarter sized plastic stars haphazardly lined the air duct's ceiling in an intricate display that began to pulse and move hypnotically as if dancing to a long forgotten beat. Slowly the boy turned his head to spare a glimpse at his sister in the eerie neon green light.
"Wow," he whispered softly, awe filling the word and making it breathless. Blair nodded slowly, mind already enchanted by the view and adrift on a sea of thoughts. The younger Winner sighed deeply, content to with the silence and wishing nothing more than to fall into the make shift heavens.
Again the exhaust fans kicked on, filling their haven with a hypnotic whirl of white noise and rush of cool air that kissed softly any exposed skin as they laid there, two sets of eyes gazing at the faux star scape, two minds dwelling on one question.
"When did father stop loving us?" Quatre's voice broke the silence, its innocence and melancholy adding weight to the words.
Blair let out an inaudible breath from dry lips as she closed her eyes, the question doing more damage to her heart than any weapon could ever achieve. "I don't know, Quaty. I don't know."
He doesn't deserve to be treated like this. Neither of us do.
Tears welled up in pale blue eyes, blurring the edges of the plastic stars, and constricting the boy's throat. "It's not fair. All we have is each other, and you're leaving," his kind voice wavered in a pained whisper.
Something inside of the curly haired girl shifted and centered abruptly, clearing and aging her mind while pushing away the quiet numbness tugging at the edge of her soul. The elder sibling stood with an odd grace and reached a hand up high, short fingernails catching on an edge of one of the smaller stars. As she pulled it slowly away from the smooth metal, the tack stretched like over chewed gum till it finally pealed away from the pale green plastic, leaving behind a faint residue.
Sinking down to the duct's floor again, she took Quatre's hand in hers and pressed the half-dollar sized star into his soft palm. The small boy sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, all the while never breaking the light hold of her warm fingers. Brown eyes met blue as the souls of two people that should have been born twins connected and communicated in a language all their own.
"Stars are forever and always visible, not like people. As long as we have the stars we have each other. Remember that Quaty. The stars are ours, and nobody can take that from us." Her voice was even and rational as the words spilled out of a place in her being that was much older than nine years. As quickly as the moment came, it passed, and a heartfelt smile replaced the serious frown. "Come here, blondy," she whispered, tugging on her brother's arm lightly. The slight pull set his body in motion as he tumbled foreword, burrowing his head in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, while a torrent of hot salty tears streaked down his dust covered face.
"Don't go, please don't go. I'll be alone here," he managed to plea between painful sobs and hiccups that caught in his throat.
Breathing not a word, Blair's arms wrapped around her little brother protectively as she laid back, the cold metal sending a shiver though her body, the thin material of her shirt doing little to insulate her.
He doesn't deserve to be treated like this.
The thought rose above all others as glassy emotion filled black eyes fixed on the now faint neon glowing stars. Only then did the cold tears come and even they were silent and empty.
Erin Johnson
Please send comments to: johnsoel@purdue.edu