01 August 2000
The night is my companion,
the solitude my guide.
Would I spend forever here
and not be satisfied?
Sarah Mclacklan: Possession
Click. -- 72
Click. -- 72
Click. -- 73
The gentle hiss and whirl of cool purified air broke the early morning still as it filled ventilation ducts and rushed on its journey to over-heated rooms. Right, left, down, left the air traveled until it spilled out metal vents in a desperate attempt to lower the electronic thermometer that one crucial degree.
Sighing deeply in his sleep, Quatre buried his head deeper into the sweater-clad body beneath him. In response, dark eyes fluttered half way open and a pink tongue passed lightly over dry lips. Blair's mind floated lazily on the warm fog of sleep as she inhaled slowly, lungs reveling in the gift of clean air.
Clean air?
Home did not have clean air.
Home had ancient scrubbers that barely worked.
Blair's eyes snapped open wide beneath tightly drawn brows as years of training and reflex born on fear tensed her muscles tightly. Completely disorientated, her mind ripped itself from sleep and cleared in a panic filled instant. In that same instant, her gaze raked across her surroundings, analyzing and imprinting in her memory every finite detail of the small room.
Two sturdy pool tables to her immediate left; a bar nestled into an alcove at the far end of the room, and a large view screen hung on the wall over the couch she and Quatre were laying on.
Quatre?
A flood of memories from recent events swallowed the curly haired woman whole as she let her head tip backwards and rest on the old couch's armrest.
The whirlwind reunion with her brother.
She relaxed.
The late night/early morning conversation with Duo.
She smiled.
Niko's betrayal.
She froze.
In a flash, the tension was back as an image of the Japanese woman flickered to life in her mind for the first time in the thirty-eight hours Blair had been on the sweeper colony.
Was it for money Nik, or just fun?
A thousand unanswered questions sprung to life and anchored in her now almost painfully awake brain. A new kind of ache filled Blair's body as her thoughts twisted and turned down darker paths; paths that led to the place she lived but had never called home.
The ache was restlessness.
The ache was irritation.
The ache was fear.
A rustle of clothing sucked her back into reality and light years away from her tangled thoughts. Craning her neck to view the rec room's only entrance, she winced as a succession of pops emitted from her spine.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, the words catching and cracking in her dry throat.
"Not long," Trowa replied as he leaned against the doorframe, arms loosely folded in front of him.
Blair murmured in response before a small yawn spilled from her mouth as fatigue laced though her consciousness. The ex-pilot was exhausted both physically and emotionally in ways she had never known possible and, in a twisted way, she was enjoying herself. "What time is it?"
"Two AM."
"Oh, fuck," the curse rode on a bewildered breath that was instantly consumed by the steady rush of white noise.
"Duo said he'd leave the door unlocked for you."
Blair nodded awkwardly, the angle at which her head was titled restricting the gesture considerably. Unwillingly, a fragment of past conversation slowly drifted though her ears.
'I got a spare room in my apartment you can crash in.'
Blair raised an eyebrow at Duo's offer, then moved her gaze to Quatre. 'I thought I was going to stay with you,' she paused for a moment thinking,' Where's Trowa sleeping?'
'With Quatre,' the green-eyed man replied smoothly with a slight upturn of his lips and a flicker of mischief.
Blair blinked.
Duo grinned.
Quate blushed.
Trowa sighed deeply and pushed away from his support, movements filled with the fluidity and grace Blair had begun to associate with her brother's companion.
Her brother's companion.
The curly haired woman almost laughed. It was a strange phrase but the only one her mind could attach to their interesting blend of friendship and stolen glances.
Her heart, however, wanted to call them lovers, and rarely was it wrong. Rationality was another matter, and her brain had over-ridden the urge to attach such an intimate title to their relationship before hearing it first hand.
Yet another question to add to her ever-growing list.
Clearing the small distance between the door and the couch, amusement subtly painted Trowa's normally neutral mask. Green eyes focused intently for a moment on the curly haired Winner.
This woman was worlds away from most of his lover's other 28 sisters and for that reason alone he could understand why Quatre adored her so much. And maybe that was why the Heavy Arms pilot let himself kneel before the ratty old sofa and let his strong fingers brush the Winner heir's cheek in an open show of affection. They had both learned long ago that each sister would handle the news of their relationship differently. Some used the excuse as yet another reason to disown Quatre while other just ignored the news and went on their merry ways without even a comment. Trowa knew, however, Blair would care and accept them. Quatre, however, had insisted on being cautious.
"I'm going to take him back to our room," Trowa murmured as he let his hand drift to the blond man's back, relieved that a fair amount of the tension which was there two days ago had ebbed away.
Blair watched the brunet closely as she threaded her fingers through her brother's pale short hair, a small smile pulling up the edges of her lips.
"Take care of him," the words tumbled out under their own volition from the darkness within Blair's soul.
Trowa nodded slowly as he felt the tension return to Quatre's muscles instantly.
Damn it. His mind cursed bitterly. Ever since the first call from Duo, his blonde lover had worried himself into a fit for reasons neither man could understand.
Please don't let it be a premonition of things to come. His heart silently prayed to Quatre's God.
Please, just keep them both safe.
The blonde man sighed deeply and opened crystal blue eyes laced with a sad smile, confirming Trowa's suspicions: He had heard every word of the conversation.
"What time is it?" the blonde man murmured, voice lazy with the after glow brought on by sleep.
"Late," two sets of lips replied in unison. Blair laughed softly as she unwrapped her arms from around the pale-haired man's form. Inhaling deeply again, Quatre turned over, rolled off the couch and onto the hard linoleum covered floor, hands and feet catching himself.
Blair smirked impishly, eyes alight with an almost forgotten glint of mischief. "That was graceful"
Quatre wrinkled his nose and squinted at the brown haired woman as he stood. "You sound like Duo."
"God help us," came Trowa's quiet remark.
Blair rolled her eyes and shook her head with the barest of movements, not bothering to comment. "G'night you two."
The green-eyed man nodded in response as Quatre let his fingers drop down and ruffle his sister's curly locks. "Night," he replied before turning and following Trowa out of the small room.
And then she was alone.
She was alone.
Alone.
Blair closed her eyes and shivered as cold air slid under the residual warmth left by Quatre's body. Having another person so near without the taint of ulterior motive was almost foreign to her.
Almost.
Memories, she had memories from when they were younger-- inseparable. For eight years they had been that way, living off fantastic day dreams and hopes of better tomorrows. But then here was their father.
'One disobedient child is more than enough for me to look after. I refuse to tolerate two!'
Black-brown eyes flew open and a fine barbed tension filled Blair's body for the third time that morning as she shivered.
Memories can be a bitter thing.
Blair Winner, ex-gundam pilot and ex-resistance fighter, didn't want to be alone. She would have laughed if the thought hadn't hurt so much. Independence and loneliness were, like her brown curly locks, just another aspect that defined who she was.
Inhaling deeply, she pushed herself up from the sofa, joints popping in protest and restless mind rejoycing. There were many questions the ex-pilot need answers to, the first of which involved the one person who knew her.
The one person who had been avoiding her.
Howard.
Erin Johnson
Please send comments to: johnsoel@purdue.edu