14-Jun-2004
Title: The Worst Thing
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none this chapter
Pairings: no change
Archived: sweetlysour & gwaddiction
Notes: huge thanks to Maldoror for the invaluable help on Getting Wufei To Be
More Wufei-like, always a tough thing. And also, as always, big thanks
and gratitude to those writing and commenting: THANK YOU! Quatre can be
a boneheaded boy, but things are coming around. Well, mostly. He's not
out of the woods yet...
When I got back to the apartment, I took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, figuring I'd do laundry and catch up on philosophy chapters while I was at it. I had just finished shoving clothes into the old pillowcase when the knock came at the door. I ignored it at first; it was soft enough that I thought it must be a door down the hallway. It came again, a sharper one-two rap, and I instinctively reached for my gun before unlocking the deadbolts and opening the door.
The dying light down the hall threw Wufei's face into shadows that flickered and brightened. I could only stare as the hard line between his brows disappeared and his shoulders relaxed, or perhaps that was a trick of the light. His hair looked longer, but still pulled back in a stern ponytail at the base of his neck. His shoulders were broader than I recalled, his legs clearly muscled beneath the fabric of his neatly pressed slacks. He raised his eyebrows, his arms crossed over his Preventer's jacket, and waited.
"Oh." I shook my head, and opened the door wider. "I wasn't expecting company."
Wufei stepped into my apartment with a casual shrug. "I would have called, but your phone appears to be out of order."
"Yes." I dropped my gun on the bed, and went to set a pot of water on the stove.
"You have a permit for that, Winner?" Wufei didn't sit, but remained standing, almost near the middle of the room.
"Maybe." I shrugged, and tossed him a wry smile over my shoulder. "L4, perhaps."
Wufei's lips curled the barest amount. "I'm not on duty, anyway." When I turned around, setting out the mugs - and thanking the wisdom I'd had to buy a second one after Trowa's visit - he was regarding me thoughtfully. He caught me looking, and the expression changed to one of annoyance. "Before you ask," he informed me, "I am here in part to rid myself of one pest named Maxwell."
I scowled. "Figures."
"Changing your phone number won't dissuade him," Wufei said, and this time there was a definite twist to the lips. "He could find any of us, anywhere, anytime." He sniffed. "And the bastard still won't come work for Preventers full-time," he grumbled under his breath. "We could use those skills."
"Be careful what you wish for, Chang." I put teabags in the mugs, and checked the water. "Une might assign him as your partner."
Wufei looked horrified, but the look melted into a smug smile. "No. I'd demand he be put with Yuy. The two of them could drive each other crazy, just like during... " His smile faded, replaced by a stricken look, and he turned his head away.
"Yeah," I whispered. Partnering the two of them would be nothing but hell, given the history. A joke that once would have been funny, but... I sighed, and poured water into the mugs, then carried one to Wufei. "So. I'm here, I'm in one piece... "
"Not from what I hear," Wufei replied, looking me up and down. "You've lost weight."
"You've lost height," I retorted. He was at least two inches shorter.
He sniffed. "I'm here about your sealed files."
I was braced for him talking about my family, and had to backpedal mentally for a second. "My files? What about them?"
"Yuy keeps tabs on these things," Wufei explained casually. "Someone from this college attempted a full background search on you a few weeks ago. Mostly concerning your whereabouts during the war. They didn't find anything, of course."
"I see." I sipped my tea, choosing not to point out that the conversation so far could have been done by email. "I'm not surprised."
"Another search was run this morning. I thought I'd get your input before I go in with a cease-and-desist order from Une." Wufei stared at me over the rim of his mug, his dark eyes inscrutable.
"I had a run-in with a Dean when I was in the clinic, two or three months back," I said. "They ran a full test without my permission, and racked up an impressive list of drugs left over from Operation Meteor." I paused, reviewing Wufei's words. "Don't tell me Yuy--"
"Yeah," Wufei said, and smirked. "It's a rather unfortunate virus that's hit the college systems. Twice."
I started laughing, and had to set the mug down on the table before I spilled it. "Oh, fuck," I said, still chuckling. "Y'know, Une's sometimes got to rue the day she ever asked any of us on, let alone you two."
Wufei attempted to look indignant, but the smirk was still there. "I had nothing to do with it. I just expressed my indignation that some two-bit middle manager had the gall to run a background check on a lowly sophomore in some second-rate college--"
"It's not a second-rate college," I protested. "It's a good university."
"--Who's studying art, of all things," he continued, unperturbed. He stared pointedly at the scroll, then shrugged. "I saw the portraits you did."
"Oh." Caught off-guard, I stopped grinning, and stepped back, uncertain. "Yeah."
"He took a day off." Wufei frowned, but his lips curled up in mild amusement. "Une messaged me, wanting to know if the world had come to an end. I went barreling over to his place, thinking he must've fallen and hit his head, or been kidnapped, or gone off the deep end. Yuy, miss a day of work?" Wufei rolled his eyes. "But... " All humor was wiped from his face, suddenly, and he sighed, letting his shoulders drop. "He was sitting on his sofa, staring at the three pictures... "
Fuck, I thought. Why did I do that? Why didn't I think first, realize--
"He had been... " Wufei's whisper halted, and he stared at the scroll for a long moment, before taking a deep breath. "He was... upset, but... " He shook his head, looking away from me. "It meant a lot to him."
I swallowed hard. "Why... why are you telling me this?"
"Because," Wufei said, in that same low, gentle tone, no louder than a breath, "if your art can do that to someone, don't let anything stop you from going as far as you can with it."
"But that was--"
"No," Wufei said, shaking his head. "It's not just who drew it. It's the pictures themselves. I saw them. They're rough, yes, and you don't have a lot of training. But you caught... " He shrugged, and finished off his tea. "It's the eyes, I think."
"I couldn't get yours right," I said, trying to move away from the image of hurting Heero that deeply. "I tried... drawing all of you. But I don't know why I couldn't get yours."
Wufei stared down at his mug. "May I see it?"
I shook my head. "It'd take an archeological dig to find it." I waved my hand towards the stacks of sketch papers, laying along the walls. "It's somewhere in there, along with everything else. Maybe later."
Wufei arched an eyebrow. "Did you show any of it to your sister?"
"My... " I groaned. "Fuck, you know about that, too?"
"Hard to miss. When Heero's alarms on your files were triggered the second time, the preliminary procedures had just been filed against your name in an L4 court."
"Great. So now the Dean--"
"Probably." Wufei cocked his head at me, frowning slightly. "What happened? Unless you've got a Gundam hidden around here, I can't imagine why--"
"I don't want to be a businessman," I said, cutting him off. "It's not whether or not I'm pacifist enough for them - I'll never be, but that's beside the point - it's that I don't want to be their little brief-case carrying flunky."
"You were running WIC. Hardly a flunky."
"I wasn't running anything. I was delegated the job of pushing papers and signing things that I had no say in deciding." I set my mug on the countertop, filled the pot with water and set it on the stove to heat.
"Would that make a difference?" Wufei's tone was contemplative. "If you were more in charge?"
"Not really. I didn't like any of it anyway. I was more than happy to let my sisters run it. The problem is that my father's will is quite explicit. I either run the company, or I'm cut off."
Wufei studied me for a long second. "It wasn't disinheritance procedures, it was disownment. You're being removed from the list of Winner family members." He set his mug down next to mine. His fingers were long and graceful, running across the rim of the mug in a strangely delicate gesture. "They're your family, Winner."
"I've heard this lecture already," I said. I started to move away, but Wufei caught me by the wrist.
"You weren't listening, then," he said, his tone almost threatening. "I lost my entire clan in the war. I fail to see how you could walk away from yours, when the four of us would give years off our lives and significant body parts to have--"
I yanked my wrist from his grip. "So I'm just supposed to put up with my family's crap for you guys, so you'll be happy knowing one of us has to suffer through it?"
"No." Wufei stepped back, his face averted. "That's not what I meant. But your family, Winner... they're your strength. They always have been."
"I want to be my own strength." Like you, Wufei. Or Duo. Or Trowa. Or Heero.
Wufei snorted, and gave me a look like I was a total moron. "Quatre, you *are* your own strength. It's just that your family is a part of that. Doesn't make you less to have it, but it makes you less to lose it. Especially if you do so because you're a stubborn mule who makes Heero look easy-going."
I wondered if when Heero did something stupid, the rest told him he was making me look good.
"It's too late now," I told him.
Wufei snorted again, and his brows came down. "It's not too late. Have you tried calling--"
"I don't have a phone."
He scowled and dug in his inner coat pocket. Pulling out a cell phone, he flipped it open and shoved it at me. "You do now. Call."
I crossed my arms and glowered at him. "I can't--"
"Oh? You can't? You really are as helpless as you want to believe." He held the phone up, and punched in a series of numbers. "Here. I'll do it for you. Talk."
"Wufei," I said, shocked. "You can't just--"
"I can, and I am, and you're going to--"
"Winner speaking." The woman's voice was tinny from the phone's speakers. Wufei shoved the phone at me again. I took it, glowering.
"Hello?" I wasn't sure which sister he'd called.
"Quatre?"
Victoria. I glared at Wufei, and he turned his back on me to pour us more tea. "Uh... yeah. It's me."
"Oh." She was quiet for a bit. "How have you been?"
"Going to class... the usual," I said, not sure what I should do now that we were on the phone. "I... "
"I've been worried about you, Quatre," she whispered. "We all have. Your phone was disconnected, and Iria couldn't get in touch with you--"
I grimaced. I'd completely forgotten about the medical convention in a week. "I'm... tell her I'm really sorry about that. I'll email her."
"Good." Victoria took a deep breath. "Are... is everything else going okay? You're doing all right?"
"I guess so." I crossed my arms, and moved to the window, pulling the blanket back to look at the darkened streets.
"Quatre, it's not too late... "
"I thought it was all decided," I told her, a little sharply.
"Only if you say it is," she answered.
"You're disowning me."
"Your choice." A guarded note was seeping into her voice.
"And it's--" I was cut off by a sheet of note paper thrust under my nose. I took it, glancing at Wufei, who lowered his brows at me. Dutifully I read it, then frowned, and he scowled deeper, nodding firmly. "Victoria... I... what about a compromise?"
"A compromise?" She repeated the question, hesitantly.
"Yeah... give me three years to finish school--" I glanced at Wufei, who arched an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at the paper in my hand. "--And then we see what I can do with WIC that uses my skills, and is good for the company and satisfies the board's requirements for my participation."
"Three years," she said, and made a small humming sound. I waited, and I could hear her inhaled deeply and let it out again before she spoke. "But for three years you'll--"
"I want to do this on my own," I interrupted, tossing the paper back at Wufei. He widened his eyes at me, glancing at the paper. I waved a hand, dismissing him. "And then in three years we talk."
"I would hope we'd talk before then," Victoria said, softly.
"There's nothing to--"
She laughed, but it sounded tired. "Not what I meant, little brother. I just... we all do care for you. I know you got a difficult deal, being born into something and never being given a choice. But it seems like you forget that there were twenty-nine of us, and some of us... " She sighed. "Some of us really are good at business, and were contributing and had hopes... and one small child took all that away."
I opened my mouth, and I couldn't think of a damn thing to say.
"I was twenty-two when you were born," she said. "And I've tried my best to never hold our father's hidebound ideas against you, but watching you throw it away--"
"Victoria," I said, stunned. "I'm... why didn't you tell me?"
"You never asked." Her tone was dry.
"I should've realized," I amended. "I should've--"
"Yes, well, now you know," she said, cutting me off briskly. "I have a meeting in a few, but I'm glad we spoke. Your phone is disconnected, though, and we do prefer some way to get in touch with you. What if something happened? How would you--"
"Nothing's going to happen," I assured her. "A phone was an unnecessary expense." Wufei snorted from behind me, and I elbowed him neatly without turning around.
"I missed your birthday," Victoria said.
"Uh... " I tensed, wondering what she was thinking. "What about it?"
"You're still my little brother," she whispered. "I have to go. Take care of yourself."
The phone line clicked and went dead. I stared at the phone for a long moment, until Wufei whisked it out of my hands, folded it up, and put it away. He gave me a smug look.
"Better?"
"Depends on how you define better," I said, and then nodded. "Yeah. I guess."
"Principles are important, Winner," he told me, holding out my mug of tea. "But sometimes you have to compromise."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "You? *You're* going to instruct me on compromising?"
Wufei made a face, but his lips were quirking in a rather telling manner. "I've learned a few things working in a bureaucracy."
"Bullshit. I'd bet it's working with Po that's hammered such notions into your head." I took a long drink of the tea, and raised my eyebrows at him over the mug's edge.
"Oh, that woman drives me insane sometimes," Wufei muttered. He moved to the table, and sank down in one of the chairs. Fortunately it wasn't the one with the cracked seat. "She's reckless, impulsive, *and* a crack shot!"
"Why do I get the feeling it's the last one that bothers you the most?" I smirked and he leaned back in the chair, giving me about as wide a grin as I'd ever seen from Wufei Chang.
He shrugged. "So. What are you studying in art?"
"No, no," I retorted, settling carefully down on the other chair opposite. "My turn to ask questions. You showed up just to pester me, thanks to Maxwell, and to terrify the Dean?"
"I haven't terrified anyone in a few weeks. Starting to feel like I was getting rusty," Wufei said. "We've been letting Yuy do that job recently. Makes him feel like he's contributing."
I chuckled. "Who's he harassing now?"
"No one at the moment. New mission. Still in the investigating stages, but Yuy's been practicing his glares," Wufei replied. "Suspected Gundamian running from L2 to the new L5 system." A flash of something crossed his face, and I felt the twinge in my chest, but let it pass. He pushed away from the table, crossing his legs, ankle against knee. "One of the syndicate branches, using medical technology as a cover. We've had several agents infiltrate, but so far we're hitting mostly dead ends."
"Mm. Any possibility it really is for medical use?"
"Not unless x-ray machines require bullet-proof plating," Wufei said wryly. "No, the problem is that Une wants the guys responsible. Otherwise we'd just institute total inspections at all stations, and confiscate everything we find."
"And you haven't done that yet," I said, running through Preventers procedure in my head. "How'd you find out about it? Tip-off, or--"
"Scan," Wufei said, shaking his head. "In October, after the Marshall case in Asia, random scans of containers became mandatory in all ports for various materials, including Gundamian. A guard on a way-station satellite caught the Gundamian three weeks ago."
I frowned. "So, on average, how many shipments are moving between L2 and L5? And how often are items scanned? And what's the percentage of times, in all likelihood, that the Gundam-plated x-ray machines would have been scanned and caught during that time period?"
"Not sure," Wufei admitted. "Every tenth item is scanned at all stations, I believe. One of our sources was a scanner operator. He'd been accepting money under the table, and took immunity when we caught him."
"Doesn't do the job now?"
"Nope. We're aware there are six other guards also being bribed, of about seventeen working the three scanning stations between L2 and L5." Wufei frowned. "Spill, Winner."
"Just thinking." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Just that if I were the guy running from L2 to L5, and knew there were random scans... and that one of my bribed guards was no longer working... "
Wufei raised his eyebrows, and drummed his fingers on the table. I grinned, and shrugged nonchalantly. It was all perfectly clear to me, but I found it amusing that it hadn't been to Wufei or any of the other top people I'd expect to be working on the case.
"Winner," Wufei practically growled - and sounded, for a second, strangely reminiscent of Heero. "Stop looking smug and tell me."
"He knows you're onto the bigger picture, because if you weren't, you'd have caught and confiscated something by now." I poked my finger into my mug, swirling the lukewarm tea. "What you need to do is let the scans run, catch a shipment or two, and deal with it like you normally would."
"That'd mean taking out a few lower managers, since we'd normally stop with whomever packed and sent," Wufei murmured. "But that wouldn't get us any closer to the top dogs. Almost a month and we've still got nothing."
"That's because they went to ground the minute they figured out that you'd scanned the goods, and knew what it was Gundamian. Because, if the chances of discovery were high based on the number of shipments and the percentage of random scans," I explained, "then it's highly unlikely that they would've gone even one week without getting caught, if they didn't have a bribed guard on every shift."
"So by not catching them... " Wufei swore colorfully in Mandarin, and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Fuck. We were *too* quiet."
"Yeah." I grinned, then wiped my face to something a bit more serious. "Sorry. I could be wrong, y'know, it's always--"
"No," he said, and sighed, looking down his nose at me. "You're not. Haven't been before now. Fuck. Yuy's going to blow a gasket when I point this out to him."
"You're not working with Po?"
"There're six of us running this one." Wufei pushed his cuff back, checking his watch. "I've got to catch a shuttle to L2 in two hours." He stood up, and stared at the scroll again for a moment, before transferring his enigmatic gaze to me. "Next time we'll do dinner."
"Next time?" I stood up, frowning. "I appreciate you and Yuy wrecking the school's computers for me, but it's really not--"
"Yes, it is." Wufei squared his shoulders, but didn't quite look me in the eye. "When I started working for Preventers, you came to see me a number of times those first two years."
"I was in town," I protested. "And it wasn't anything major."
"When Duo went off to school on L3, you made six trips in one year."
"It was on my--"
"You visited Trowa at the circus every time he was within a three-hour flight."
"That was--"
"And when Heero reappeared and got his own place," Wufei continued implacably, "I seem to recall you just happened to be in Bremen a number of times. Even though WIC's earth-sphere headquarters are based in Sanq."
"Europe's not that big," I said, confused. Had my behavior been improper? "I thought--"
"You were thinking then, Winner, but you seem to have a damn hard time doing it now," Wufei snapped. "You were there for us, when we were all finding our feet. It... " He frowned, and looked away, straightening his jacket. "I know it meant a lot to them, to have you come by. It was good to know that... "
"Oh." I felt breathless, uncomfortable, sensing between the lines what Wufei was saying, but unwilling to draw it out. I tried once more, and my voice sounded feeble in my ears. "It wasn't a big deal. I just figured that's what a friend is supposed to do."
"Exactly," Wufei said. He crossed his arms and stared at the mugs of tea on the table. A muscle flickered in his jaw, but otherwise he was almost preternaturally still. "And we... *I*... haven't really been a good friend, in return."
"You... " My jaw dropped a little, and I closed my mouth firmly, shaking my head. "No. It's been good to have the space to figure out what's important."
Wufei blinked, and I was stunned to see his shoulders slump, just a fraction. No one else would have noticed the change, but I did. I'd hurt him; I could feel it. "Ah," he said, formally, not looking at me as he moved back a half step. "I'm sorry to have intruded."
I winced. "No... that's not what I meant." I sighed, and lowered my head. "I'm sorry. I'm just ruining everything these days, I think. I keep trying to be honest, and I end up just butchering things."
He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze intent, and I did my best to hold still under the examination. Then he nodded, once, almost curtly. "You're not an honest person, Winner," Wufei said, but he didn't sound upset. In fact, he sounded almost amused. "You were raised as a businessman and diplomat. You can out-bluff Trowa, out-scheme Duo, and you've chewed Yuy a new asshole and lived. I've watched you tell career Preventers to go to hell so sweetly they end up looking forward to the trip."
I nearly choked. "I'm not--"
"You forget. I went into battle with you," Wufei replied, implacable, that smirk back on his face. It faded after a moment, and he stared at me, hard. "I know you. Those of us who do... " He raised his chin, a challenging look in his eyes. "*I* know when you're speaking the truth."
I raised my head, puzzled.
"So, I'll see you in a month, maybe, when I'm back Earthside," Wufei said, that smirk appearing and disappearing in a quicksilver flash across his face. "We'll do dinner then. I hear Bruno's is the best place in this city."
I blinked, and then narrowed my eyes at him. "You... "
Wufei's smirk was full on, that time. "You were born to wear a dinner jacket with a tie, Winner. It's just a step up from that vest and khakis get-up you wore."
"At least I wasn't wearing pajamas," I shot back.
"Pajamas!" Wufei looked indignant, but his eyes were wide. I realized he was enjoying it. "You have no respect for other cultures."
"When in Rome, Chang." I cocked my head at him. "Though if I squinted, it could've been a toga."
Wufei made a disgusted sound. "Don't confuse me with Maxwell. I do not drape bed sheets on my body."
"Bed sheets," I repeated, questioning, and grinned. "There's a story there."
"You missed it," Wufei said, affecting nonchalance. "Relena's winter party... "
"But I bet you got pictures," I pressed.
"I believe they involved several curious uses of fruit, too," Wufei allowed. "And Yuy might deign to give out copies, if you ask him nicely."
"I'll email him."
Wufei shrugged, and zipped up his jacket. "Or you can ask him when he stops by in two weeks."
"Two weeks?" I gaped. "Wait a minute, I thought--"
"I told you," Wufei said, slowly, but there was a tension in his shoulders than made me realize he'd moved away from joking and was serious again. "We have a debt."
"Never between friends," I whispered. "You don't have to visit if you don't want to."
"Exactly." Wufei put his hand on the doorknob. His voice was crisp, but his shoulders remained stiff, and he didn't quite look me in the eye. "I want to."
"I'd like it, if you did," I said, and was pleased and surprised to realize it was the truth. "And when I say that, Chang, I'm--"
"I know you're not lying," Wufei said, his eyes narrowed, his lips curled up in a pleased smile. "I told you, I can tell."
A week passed after Victoria's visit and I didn't see or hear from my landlady. I started to breathe a bit more normally as I entered and left the old building. No sign of her meant I didn't have to deal with simpering, or hints about rent increases, if she turned out to be that kind of person. I debated finding another apartment anyway, once places opened up at the end of the semester; a chance of scenery might be nice. Smaller or larger, didn't matter, as long as it fit the bed. I already knew I'd leave everything else behind. Why bother taking something that's worth less than the effort to move it?
Work was challenging, for all I'd hoped it'd come easy. But after four days of working the late afternoon - when it was slower, and the manager had plenty of time to correct me on everything - and I was starting to get used to the idea that my diplomat's mask fit the job perfectly. It was a way of smiling without ever showing what I really felt, and I was starting to pick up on people's reactions. At times it felt intrusive; other times it was exhausting. Just trying to be perceptive, to pay attention to what they wanted, to anticipate... and my feet hurt like hell. I hadn't realized how much time I'd gotten to sit at the club. Moving back and forth from dining room to kitchen - and trying to always appear like I wasn't rushing - was exhausting. All I wanted to do when I got home was lie down with my feet straight up in the air.
Well, lie down with my feet up and count my tips for the night. They weren't even half what evening waiters made, and they weren't as much as my three afternoon coworkers... but each evening, the tips got a little bigger. It was tangible proof of progress, of a sort.
Stumbling in from another late afternoon shift, I hung my coat on the nail and stood at the sink, considering what I'd eat. Part of me was starving after seeing those dishes go past. The other part of me didn't want to see a single item of food, let alone a dirty plate afterwards. And nibbling on the sous-chefs' afternoon experiments wasn't helping, either. I felt full and sluggish for an hour afterwards. Sometimes I wondered how I'd managed, eating like that every day for nearly my entire life. And now I had a small cup of lobster bisque and I wanted to lie down? It made me chuckle, but it was a joke none of my coworkers would get, so I had shrugged and come up with a diversionary comment.
The blue lamp cast the room in gentler shadows, masking much of the age, the grime I couldn't scrub, the feeling of being worn, used-up, and cast-off. That still lingered. I'd told the manager I wanted forty hours, on top of school. The money would be enough to rationalize only seeing Jamie for coffee every few days. The exhaustion would be enough to stave off the loneliness of not seeing any of my friends on campus.
It was enough, I kept telling myself.
I was at the sink for several minutes before I remembered the date. Exploding in a frenzy, I showered, tried to comb my hair, gave up, pulled on clean clothes, and dashed from the apartment. Ten minutes later I was at the train station, waiting as the seven o'clock train pulled in.
Iria was the fourth person off the train, her massive suitcase dwarfing her slender frame. She saw me and waved, and I picked her up and swung her around. I wasn't normally demonstrative with my sisters but Iria was a special case. Besides, it was always cool to remind her that I could do that now.
"Quatre, enough," she fussed, and I put her down. I picked up the suitcase, and led the way towards the taxi stand. "I'm so sorry," she said, tugging on her coat. "I'm in meetings for the next two days, and then I have to head straight to L1 for a big presentation on the arguments presented here. The hospital administrators want to hear the news right away. So... I'm afraid I can only visit tonight." She peered up at me, chewing on her lower lip. "Are you--"
"I'm fine," I told her, and waved down a taxi. "Where are you staying?"
"Four Seasons," she said, and I helped the taxi driver put her suitcase in the trunk, then climbed in after her. "I'm hoping it comes with a complimentary foot massage," she moaned.
"Don't look at me," I told her. "I'm waiting tables. My feet have got to hurt more than yours."
"You're... " Her eyes went wide. "But, Quatre!"
"I'm not bad at it." Mostly, I admitted silently. Except for sometimes forgetting the salad had to come before the meal but after the bread, and a few times not remembering who wanted drink refills. And when it got slow, I got really absent-minded. "Manager's going to move me to dinner shift in a week," I said.
"Oh," she said, and sighed, leaning back, her eyes closing. "At least you're not working at some horrible club anymore. With fights and gangs and... " She shuddered.
"Iria," I chided. "You forget who you're talking to."
She opened her eyes just a little, and slanted a look at me sideways. "You're still my little brother. I'm allowed to worry."
I made a show of huffing.
"You're cute when you pout," she teased, and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "Are you doing okay? I know waiting tables is a job, but is it really enough to pay for school and your own place and all the other expenses--"
"There are no other expenses," I said, shaking my head. "Art supplies, tuition for this summer, rent and utilities. It's a lot, but I had a little bit of savings, and that'll last until I can get financial aid."
"You shouldn't have to," she whispered. "And you should have a little money extra, to have fun."
"I'm working my way through school," I replied. "Fun isn't part of the equation."
"Oh, Quatre," she sighed, and pushed her coppery hair out of her eyes. "You always have been so serious about everything you do."
"It's important to me."
"I'm not arguing that. Just... " She slid across the seat to hug me tightly. "I look at you, and I still see you, fifteen years old in that hospital bed, so solemn, so intense... "
"Iria," I said, trying to appear long-suffering.
She grinned, and squeezed me tighter, until I gave in and hugged her back.
The hotel was nice, the dinner was good, and the conversation was witty. We kept away from news of the family, and stuck to my tales of my art professors' frustration with me and her busy schedule working on modifying plague inoculations to combat the newest strains. She bid me goodbye at the end of the night with a hug and cash for the cab.
When I got to the apartment, I locked the door behind me and hung up my coat, which was when I heard something rustle in my pocket. Suspicious, I stuck my hand into my coat pocket, and pulled out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, I wasn't sure whether to swear, stare in shock, or laugh helplessly. She'd written me a check for two thousand credits. On the 'for' line, at the bottom of the check, she'd written in her medical scrawl, 'a little extra, for fun.'
"You look like you're doing well," Chip drawled from behind me. I nearly elbowed him instinctively, caught off-guard at someone so deep inside my space. I turned sideways, blinking at him to cover my surprise, and pulled out the rest of my mail, sorting it quickly. He grinned, but it looked forced. "Haven't seen you 'round much, man."
"I didn't think I was welcome," I said quietly, but trying to be polite.
"You are," he insisted, rolling his eyes. "Look, I was pretty sure Lisa an' I were right, but Lola's just... well, she's being a chick. And they can get pretty stubborn."
"I gathered," I told him, putting my few school memos in my bag. "But she did have a point."
"So did you," he replied quietly, falling in alongside me. "Bunch of us are going to the campus movie on Saturday. You working?"
"No... a friend is coming in from out of town." I thought of Heero, and reminded myself I needed to clean the apartment, maybe do some grocery shopping on the way home. "Can I take a rain check?"
Chip frowned, and I hesitated, but he broke out laughing. "Hell, yeah. There's a great place, just opened up near my digs. One-credit beers, all night long on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You gotta come by and hang."
I smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed than I had in a while, for a reason I couldn't quite determine. "Yeah, that'd be cool."
"Chip!" Lisa's voice called out across the crowded mailroom, and we both turned to see her smiling widely at Chip. His smile immediately softened. I glanced back and forth between them. Lisa finally drew her eyes away from Chip to notice me and her eyes went wide. She blushed.
"Ah... " I nodded my head, giving them both a knowing look. "I see things have changed in my absence."
Lisa only blushed deeper, to a scarlet red. Chip looked a bit smug.
"So... other than that, how've you been?" I arched an eyebrow at Lisa.
"Fine," she managed to choke out. "And *nothing's* changed!"
"Uh-hunh."
"Mostly." She sighed, and grinned broadly, hooking her arm through Chip's. "What've you been up to?"
"Studio, and working." I patted my bag. "I'm not sure, but I think I'm carrying around letters of acceptance to the Art Institute for those summer classes you suggested."
"You're not sure?" Lisa eyed the bag. "Open them."
"Working up my nerve," I replied smoothly. "They seem awfully thick for rejection slips, but still... "
Lisa narrowed her eyes at Chip, and he nodded. The next thing I knew, my bag was jerked off my shoulder. Chip tossed it at Lisa when I tackled him. I made sure he had his hands full holding me back, but it was mostly in play. Lisa squeaked each time I hollered, pretending to lunge only to be caught up by Chip. He was shouting for her to find the letters before he got reamed.
Lisa hopped up on a bench, the letters over her head, reading fast. When she started squealing, Chip relaxed his hold, and clapped me on the shoulder.
"No hard feelings, man," he said, in an undertone.
"None at all," I replied, giving him a quick smile. Lisa was doing a strange little dance on the bench, waving the letters over her head. "Wouldn't want to deprive her of the fun, after all."
"Yeah," he said, watching Lisa, still unaware we'd stopped pretending to wrestle. "She's kinda cute, isn't she."
"Could use some dancing lessons," I said, a bit louder.
"I heard that, Quatre!" Lisa shrieked, pointing at me. She froze, her mouth open. "Oh," she said, turning red again. "I'm... oh... sorry... "
I shook my head, and offered her a hand down from the bench. "Don't be," I said, shrugging. "It's my name, after all. Even if it's a seriously bizarre one."
"You sure you're okay with it? It just kinda slipped out," she said, handing me the letters. She tucked her hands behind her back. "I do think of you as Cat, but... "
"Call me whatever you want," I assured her. "I'll answer to both."
"Okay... Quatre," she said, and beamed.
"Hm," I said to Chip, speculatively. "She *is* kinda cute, isn't she."
"Hey, now," Chip replied, edging closer to Lisa. "Get your own." His masculine posing was destroyed when he yelped. Lisa jutted her chin at him. He clutched his side, gasping. "What was that for?"
"*Get your own*," she mimicked, tossing her hair. "Idiots." She winked at me. "See ya 'round, Quatre."
"Sure thing, cutie," I said. Chip made a choking sound, and Lisa practically sashayed from the mailroom. I grinned smugly at Chip, who straightened up with a leer as he watched Lisa walk off.
"Gonna have fun making up," he told me, going after her. "Don't forget! Tuesdays and Thursdays!"
"Right," I said, shaking my head as he ran after Lisa.
End Part 10
(:./sol/worst10)
