16-Aug-2004
continued revision of The Worst Thing...
Title: Nothing Like the Sun
Author: Sol 1056
Warnings: bad words and adult situations
Disclaimer: not mine. I know this. don't sue, it's all for practice.
Thanks to those reading & reviewing, and those archiving who are stuck re-coding each chapter. sorry!
He carries the gift in one hand, and stops in the next shop, an ice cream parlor. It's just opened for the morning, and the boy behind the counter doesn't bother to hide a yawn as he waits for Quatre to pick a flavor.
"Peanut butter brittle," Quatre says, and smiles to himself. It's an old flavor, one full of memories and richness and all the calories Marie is always telling him he shouldn't eat. But he works out, takes care of himself, and dutifully eats those salads she always orders for the lunch meetings. He's no longer surrounded by people paid to tell him he looks good; he wonders if that's why he takes Marie's chiding with such grace.
He tucks the gift under his arm, digging in his pocket for a few credits to pay the boy, and accepts the loaded ice cream cone with careful fingers. He ponders walking outside with it, and changes his mind. He has time, for once, to sit and enjoy rather than do two things at once.
Quatre sets the gift before him, and bites into the ice cream, wincing as the cold rushes through his teeth into his bones. It makes him laugh, and he digs out the gift with one hand. Fiddling with the box, he turns it over in his fingers.
It's the size and weight of a half-loaded Ruger magazine, and he sighs.
I'll spend the rest of my life with that metaphor, he thinks, and carefully puts the gift away. He doesn't want to taint it again with the way his mind works.
I wouldn't say the mood was subdued after Heero left. Subdued is how you feel when all the forces of Oz and the Alliance are converging on your shoreline, and it's only a matter of time before they get there and pummel you into dust. The mood among my friends was closer to quiet, and somewhat hesitant.
That is, until Lola, Felicia, and Lisa started squealing about my marksmanship.
I helped Felicia and Lola organize their rolled-up target papers, and sent them off to the post-shooting class, where they'd learn how to clean and store a gun properly. After they left for their class, I could feel the manager watching me, but he didn't say anything, and I didn't offer. I simply reloaded my empty magazine from the ammunition the girls had bought, and pocketed the few remaining rounds.
The classroom was on the way towards the exit, and I was startled to see Vin leaning against the wall. He looked up, and I realized he must have been waiting for me. I tensed, stopping a few feet away, and he gave me that lazy frat-boy smile.
"Which side," he said, and it wasn't so much a question as an assumption there had been sides.
"Mine," I told him.
"We figured," he replied. He didn't say anything else, and it took a moment for his words to sink in.
I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"They're not stupid, Cat. They didn't fight, but they've met those of us who did." Vin shook his head. "I was in much worse shape than you when I got here. I guess those Preventer friends helped you?"
"Something like that," I said, thinking of Duo, and Trowa. Not Preventers, but called in on enough missions like myself that perhaps their insistence on healing could stretch the truth to include the organization. I moved a few steps closer, still wary, and leaned against the wall next to Vin.
"Learned to shoot when I was sixteen," he said. "Alliance soldiers took over the town in Italy where I grew up, and I came home from school to find them raping my mother. My sister was supposed to be next. I tussled with one, got his gun, and found guns are easier than people realize. Point, pull, and... " He shrugged, sighing. "It's the aftermath that's harder."
"You regret it?"
"Sometimes... " His lips curled, in a sardonic twist. "But the truth is that I regret only that I couldn't make them suffer longer for what they did to my family."
I nodded.
"But... " He pushed away from the wall, and gave me a lopsided grin. "They... " He jerked his head towards the closed classroom door. "... Don't know the details, and don't need to."
"Why'd you tell me?"
"Because I suspect you've been through even worse." Vin raised a hand, in a casual wave, as he walked backwards towards the exit. "Leave it behind. Be a college guy, because it's a hell of a lot better than living with ghosts. At least now, you only have to live with cheap beer and academic pricks."
I laughed, softly, feeling the gun at the base of my spine. "Yeah. I suppose."
When I got back to my apartment, I opened the door to find a piece of paper had been slid under the door. Its pristine white accused me, laying against the cheap wooden parquet. Locking the door behind me, I stepped around the letter, only returning once I'd removed my boots, put my jacket on the nail by the door, and slid my gun under my pillow.
Then I crouched down next to it. I knew I was acting as if it would bite, but I couldn't help it. Still hesitant, I picked up the folded note and flipped it open.
Quatre. I was in town for a conference. Duo told me to look you up. No offense meant. Heero.
That was it. No explanation, just the barest apology. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or rip up the letter and throw the bits onto the fire escape for the wind to catch and carry off.
Oh, Heero. You always were one who kept such a tight lid on your words, as if they'd betray you, distilling your explanations down to the barest amount. It works in person, where I could read you, see the gestures, the faint arch of an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile, and know what you were saying behind your few words. But that doesn't work on paper.
I imagined Une must hate his reports.
That made me smile, for real, and I found myself tucking the paper away in the shoebox from buying my boots. It already held the stack of my favorite sketches, and my exams from Sanskrit. Replacing the shoebox in its little corner, I rearranged the dirty clothes on top, as camouflage. It wasn't security, but that wasn't the issue. I wanted to save the memories, but not see the evidence of their existence.
After a minute, I thought better of it, and moved the shoebox to the top shelve over the sink. Then I gathered up all my dirty laundry, checked my little yogurt cup for change, and went down to the basement to do my wash.
The call came a week later, and I wasn't surprised. I'd been expecting it, pretty much ever since reading Heero's note.
"Duo," I said.
"Yeah!" Duo sounded surprised, but his next words were suspicious. "What's into you, man?"
"Into me?" I rolled over on my stomach and looked at the notes scattered across the room. "Sanskrit, currently. Next, macroeconomics. You?"
"I talked to Heero." Duo always was an upfront kind of person. At least, he was when it was your ass that needed grinding. If it was his, he could be cagey in ways that defied current technology to measure. "He said you were angry to see him."
"I wasn't expecting him at the range," I allowed.
"He said you weren't even shooting," Duo shot back. "And you got all pissy on him when he—"
"Maxwell," I interrupted. "He came in while I was teaching two friends and just ignored them and acted—"
"You were teaching?" Duo's tone turned reflective, then he muttered, "bastard didn't mention that."
"No, of course not," I said, groaning. "The last thing Yuy would ever notice is the two pretty girls in eye and ear protection hovering over the range's loaner gun."
There was a heartbeat of silence.
"Pretty?"
"Uh."
"Two of them?" Duo turned sly. "Oh, I see. You thought he was going to cut in on the action."
"Yuy?" I snorted. "Don't even."
"Winner, I don't know what happened, really. I just told him as long as he was attending the recruitment conference that he should look you up. But he came home with his tail between his legs and avoided my calls until this morning. Whatever you said or did, you really smashed him one."
I know that now, I thought, a little sourly.
Duo was silent, waiting.
"I don't know," I finally said. "He just showed up... and was acting like a prick."
"He's Yuy, man, he's always on the defensive. You didn't used to let it get to you."
"I know. It's just that... it's different, now." I rolled over on my back, resting my head on the Sanskrit text book, and stared at the water stains on the ceiling. "It's not like... " When I was running the show, held the cards...
"When you were on your own turf," Duo finished for me. I grunted, and he sighed heavily. It echoed through the phone, down into my bones. "Speaking of which, Heero told me about your apartment."
I tensed. There hadn't been any signs of entry. I must have been quiet for too long, because Duo sighed again.
"Stop thinking that, Quatre. He didn't go in. But he said it was... it sounds like... you're living somewhere kinda... questionable."
"It's fine."
"You grew up with houses that had at least three staircases, and you're living in an old tenement with junkies hanging on the front steps? Gang graffiti, gun shots, and a burnt-out hulk of a car right by your building?"
I didn't have an answer to that. I could only murmur something like an acknowledgement, without agreeing outright. It was true. That was the kind of neighborhood I lived in. So?
"That doesn't seem right, Quatre," Duo said, his voice dropping into a whisper. It was a light note, as though teasing, but I knew him well enough to know it was the closest he'd come to expressing the true extent of his worry. "There have got to be safer places on campus, or a little farther away... "
"I wanted to be within walking distance," I replied stubbornly. "And on-campus housing is only for freshmen."
"You walk?" Duo's response was nearly a squawk. "I thought you brought your car! You're walking home in the dark after class in—"
"I am not five!" I shot up with the force of my yell. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself, damn it. Yes! It's a bad neighborhood, but I like it!"
Duo hissed through his teeth. "You... like it?"
I realized my mistake instantly, but couldn't back down. "Yes," I said, begrudgingly.
"Must be fun, hunh," he snapped, the hurt bringing out his accent. "Playin' at bein' poor, like you can live a little on th' other side."
"It's not like—"
"What is it like, Winner?" The use of my last name stung me almost as much as the anger in his voice. "You don't have to do stuff like this. Whattaya trying to prove? That yer one of us? Why the hell would ya wanna be? Ya have more, ya can have more, there's no reason fer ya to be living with junkies an' gangs an'—"
I was a Gundam Pilot, too, I wanted to yell. I am not some defenseless, weak-willed individual who will crumble at the first sign of difficulty, damn it. But the truth is, Duo knew all that. And I knew that wasn't what had him most upset, no matter what his words said, I knew him well enough to guess the real reason. He'd spent his life dragging himself out of the dirt of his upbringing, shaping himself into someone respected, capable... someone who could walk away from that world. It wasn't that I was pretending, or that as a rich boy I wasn't allowed. It was that he couldn't separate his childhood long enough to see that I wouldn't follow the same path.
"I'm nineteen, Duo," I said, keeping my voice as calm as possible. "I'm not going to end up on the streets just because the neighborhood is bad."
"But—"
"Let's talk about something else, please. Or maybe we should just cut this short," I added, feeling a bit cruel. "And try again some other time." When you're not so damned insistent on lecturing me all the way back to my gilded cage.
"No!" Duo's answer was quick, but followed by a moment of silence. I knew he was gathering his thoughts, forcing the smile back on his face, so I waited. Eventually he came through, that cheerful tone a little forced, but still there. "So you were teaching two pretty girls how to shoot? You get a job at the range or something?"
"No, just spotting them." I sank back down on the bed, trying to relax. If I didn't, everything would still sound tense, and it wasn't like he could see me. Thinking that reminded me of Heero, and I had to take a long breath before I could work past the frustration. Damn it, why are old friends so unwilling to accept me, when my new friends could gloss right over, accept something as just the way I am, and move along? "No," I repeated, "one of my friends was mugged at gun-point, so I talked her into taking lessons. She's buying a gun next week—"
"She was mugged?"
I tensed, expecting Duo to launch into another rant about how little rich boys didn't belong in bad neighborhoods, but his next comment startled me.
"And your first reaction was to tell her to buy a gun?"
"Uh... yeah," I answered, baffled by the tired amusement in his voice. "What?"
"Good god, Quatre, you're almost as much a moron as Yuy. A gun. You told the girl to buy a gun?"
"I made sure she'd know how to shoot it and take care of it," I replied, a bit defensively. I couldn't help it. He sounded like he was somewhere between laughing and sighing melodramatically.
"Did it ever occur to you that there might be a better solution?"
I blinked. "Uh... "
"Didn't think so," Duo muttered. "Everything may look like a nail to you with that frickin' hammer in your hand, but on the streets, you pull a gun, you're escalating things to the point of no return. A newbie with a gun... bad news. She may walk taller and straighter but it's going to scream 'I've got a gun!' to everyone in three blocks, and they won't hesitate to pull their piece on her first, before she can even blink."
Again, all I could manage was an inarticulate sound. That hadn't occurred to me. "But... "
"Hell, you could tell her to not wear shoes she can't run in. And teach her to walk like she means business. And to make sure she walks with others, and takes a cab if she's got the least bit of sense when the sun goes down." Duo sounded like he was ticking off the options on his fingers. "Send her to martial arts classes, so she can learn to disarm an attacker. It's not that guns are bad, but they're not the first answer and they're not the only answer, so better she be barehanded and confident, than pull a gun and getting shot by someone faster and better. All it takes is once, Quatre, and damn if you aren't the most idiotic asshole I know outside of Yuy and here I thought you had some common sense."
I mumbled something, and Duo hummed knowingly. He'd won that final round. He knew it, I knew it, and there was no reason to rub it in. Okay, so he sounded a little smug for the remainder of the conversation, but I could mostly ignore that with gritted teeth. I'd been a fool, and I'd fix it, once I had a chance to consider the situation more carefully.
When I hung up the phone, I could only stare at my Sanskrit notes. None of it mattered suddenly, in the darkening light of late day. Hell, it looked like Greek to me, with my mind stuck in the rolling tones of Duo's lectures. Heero, upset because he thought he'd offended me so badly, or perhaps because he thought he'd damaged our friendship? I still wasn't sure. Duo, pissed that I was living in quarters less than perfect, and a little betrayed that I'd move backwards when he'd spent his life trying to move forwards. That made my stomach clench, that he couldn't see past his own nose, and history, to understand that wasn't my point.
Or maybe it is, I thought, but shoved that away. I'm not doing this to make a point. It's just the cheapest apartment, within a good distance, and I can defend myself, anyway. There's nothing this neighborhood can throw at me that I didn't see or fight or defend during the wars.
I stared at the scroll, and wondered what Wufei thought of all this. I'd heard nothing from Trowa, but that was no surprise. When traveling with the circus, he was notoriously bad at keeping in touch. Only Duo – to no one's surprise – could track Trowa down with any consistency. But Wufei... he'd not lectured me, or challenged me, but only wished me the best.
At least, I hoped that's what his gift meant. By that point, I was ready to doubt even that. Two so far didn't seem to like the version of me that was coming out. Wrong life, wrong attitude, wrong...
Oh, fuck. It didn't make much sense, and I really didn't have the time for in-depth introspection. And now I wasn't in the mood to worry about Sanskrit even with an exam the next day. Shoving the notes away, I grabbed a notebook at random, flipped it open to a back page, and began to draw.
I wasn't very good at it, but it was one of the few times I could be free.
"One hot tea, double-tea bag, two creams, no sugar."
The cup was set down in front of my nose, and I looked past it to see Felicia dropping into the seat opposite me, with her own coffee in hand. Latte, I guessed; skim milk. She grinned at me, and tossed her head until I realized the change.
"Your hair... " Her grin grew wider, and I leaned across the table, my hand out. Her chin-length hair was now past her shoulders, in hundreds of small braids, each with several colorful beads on the end. "May I... ?"
"Sure," she said, and rolled her eyes.
"Wow," I told her. The braids felt slick, and shone in the library lights. "That's so cool. How long did that take and... " I frowned, bewildered. "Wait... where did all the extra hair come from?"
Felicia laughed. "Braided in, silly. A little bit of glue," she flipped a few braids at me, and the beads clinked. "And if you had hair that was African, you could do this too." She leaned across the table and ruffled my hair, and I swatted at her hand. "Actually, maybe you could. Your hair is a lot coarser than it looks. And it's got a bit of curl, so maybe... "
She narrowed her eyes at me, and I tried to imagine myself with hundreds of little Duo-braids. I snorted, and shoved the Structural Engineering text at her. "Come on, we've got an hour before class."
"Boy. You sound thrilled about it, too." She dutifully flipped open her own book, turning to the pages we'd covered in the last class. She dutifully flipped open her own book, turning to the pages we'd covered in the last class. "If you hate it... "
"I don't." I dug out my notes, and spread them across the table. "Just... it's kinda boring."
Felicia rolled her eyes. "You are so the overachiever, asshole."
I couldn't help it. I bristled. "Am not."
She was quiet for a minute, arranging her homework before letting me take a look at it. Shuffling the papers a few times, she set them down in a neat stack, and leaned her elbow on them, preventing me from sliding them away from her.
"Cat. A lot of stuff comes easy to you, doesn't it."
"Ah... " I froze, and wondered if my face was turning red under her blunt scrutiny. "Not really. Not always... "
"Oh. Maybe once, twice in your life it was a little hard?" She twisted a braid around her fingers, then back the opposite direction. The beads clattered.
"More than that." I scowled and reached for the papers again.
"Want to know why I'm studying engineering, Cat?" Felicia leaned her weight on the papers. I grunted, trying to pry them out from under her arm. "Because I fucking suck at it."
"You do not," I retorted, surprised enough to let go of the papers. "You just need to—"
"I need to a lot of things, Cat, but I like engineering. I'm also pathetic at it, but when I work that hard and I succeed, it feels ten times better than anything else. Don't you get it?" Felicia dropped the braid and stabbed a finger at me. "That's the whole point of college. Drink things you'd never get at home, sleep with people your parents would pay you to avoid, and try stuff you just might fail miserably because it's the one damn time in your life you'll have a safety net to give it a shot."
"A safety net?" I blinked, thinking of Trowa's high-wire routines. He didn't use one, did he?
"Yes. There are people to catch you if you fall, so jump." Felicia shoved the papers at me with a disgusted look. "Seems to me all your classes are stuff you can just slide right on through. You take notes but I've never seen you really check them, and most of the time you seem to get what Riley's saying before she's even opened her mouth, I think. I'm amazed you haven't shriveled up and died of boredom."
There's no one to catch me if I fall, I thought. The only thing that's going to catch me is a desk job, nine-to-five, forty to eighty hours a week, staring at reports and numbers and rushing from pointless meeting to pointless meeting... that's what's waiting for me. That's my fuckin' safety net.
I shook my head, not willing to meet Felicia's eyes. "Maybe. But I know what I'm doing. I don't need to—"
"I don't think so." Felicia cocked her head at me, sweeping the braids over her shoulder with a practiced air. "I think you need more than Sanskrit to scare the shit out of you, make you realize that whatever you did during the war wasn't the biggest excitement in your life, that there's—"
I raised my gaze, and she froze, a pained look coming over her face. We'd never discussed it, and after that day at the range, it had been one of those things that just settled into the no-man's-land I was learning occupied a great deal of a friendship. But to hear her say it out loud triggered the same defensive reaction as Heero's challenge.
"You have no idea what I experienced during the war, Felicia," I told her, in a cold voice. "Don't presume you can."
"Then I'll tell you what I experienced," she replied. Her chin wavered, but her eyes were clear. "I was sixteen and my colony was evacuated. My parents were botanists in the hydroponics labs. A Gundam announced it would blow us out of the sky, and we had five hours to get the hell out. Me, my parents, and my little brother, and thousands of our friends, neighbors, classmates, coworkers. Five hours, to evacuate." Her eyes had gone distant, and I felt like there were entire galaxies of pain hiding in the darkness of her pupils. She sighed, and shifted her gaze back to mine. I know my jaw was open, and she smiled, just a little. "Our entire lives, destroyed, by one machine, one person... "
"Felicia," I whispered. I resisted the urge to clutch at my chest. The waves of pain and memory faded as I called her name, and I couldn't tell which was her remembered fear or my never-forgotten regret.
"Nothing is safe, Cat." Felicia shoved her homework across the table at me. "War teaches us a lot of things, but one thing it should teach us is that life is too precious to take the easy way. Peace ain't easy, y'know?" She stared down at the textbook, a wry smile twisting her lips. "That's all we heard after the war. But truth is, life ain't easy, either."
I could barely form the words. "What do I do?" The question had one meaning, and a thousand.
"Stop being afraid," she said, "because when your life's Gundam comes along and blows all your tightly-held preconceptions out the window, you probably won't be ready. But at least you won't be scared."
"I... "
She tilted her head at me, one eyebrow raised.
"Maybe," I offered, hoarsely, "you are my... " ...Sandrock... " ...Gundam."
Felicia took a deep breath and stood up. Coming around the table, she hugged me tightly around my neck, and I was too startled to react. Her braids slid across my cheek, the cool metal beads thumping lightly on my collarbone. With one hand, she reached out and pulled my engineering notebook closer. Flipping through it, she opened it to a portrait of her, laughing in class. Next to it was a picture of Dr. Riley's hand, holding up the midterms.
"There's only one thing on this page that truly scares you, Cat," Felicia whispered in my ear. "And it's not the numbers and equations." She hugged me once more, and pulled away. "Gonna take a walk, and I'll be back in a few," she announced, and left.
I stared at the page for a long time. In my mind's eye, I could see Sandrock's door opening, beckoning me into the world even as I self-destructed him. For years, I'd regretted that secretly, knowing that bereft of Sandrock, I'd built Wing Zero and had wrecked such destruction in my ignorance – and arrogance.
Perhaps, in some strange way, Felicia's words – although she herself might not have known the full impact – were another escape hatch. Fleeing one world, and facing another no better or worse than the first, she gave me a third choice.
I picked up my pencil and began drawing.
Lisa poked at the pizza, and reached across me to grab a handful of napkins. She patted furiously at her slices, making a face when she pulled back the napkins to reveal they were soaked with grease.
"I can feel my arteries hardening just looking at this crap," she fussed.
"You're twenty. You can't have hard arteries, yet," Chip retorted. He flipped open the second box and pulled out two more slices, handing one to me.
"Like hell," Lisa said. "Okay. Are we going to get started on the final project? Oh, and did someone bring any beer?"
"I did," I said. "It's in the fridge."
"There was room?" Felicia snorted, and continued picking the green peppers off her slice. "Or is Chip cutting back?"
"Me?" Chip pretended to be wounded. "Saving my pennies for the lab course next semester."
We were sitting around the table in his apartment., which I'd noted was easily three times as large as mine and four times as messy. He shared it with several other juniors, and it made me wonder how much Duo must've cleaned the two times I'd come to visit him, if this was par for the course.
"You got in?" Lisa sighed. "I'm on the wait-list. Damn the stupid administration, they always have to list only two classes and then act surprised when five hundred people try to squeeze in."
"The benefits of having a last name that starts at the beginning of the alphabet," Chip declared.
"Don't remind me," I said, around a bite of pizza. "My last name sucks some times."
Felicia snorted. "You could change your name to Loser and you'd make it halfway up the list."
"Bitch." I threw a piece of green pepper at her. It stuck in one of her braids, and Lola nearly choked on her own slice from laughing. Chip pounded her on the back.
"Enough, damn, don't break my ribs," Lola said, once she got her breath back. She shoved Chip away. "Go molest someone else."
Lisa looked hopeful, and Chip blushed. I rolled my eyes, and Felicia threw me a sideways grin. Eventually perhaps Felicia, Lola and I would get disgusted enough and just lock those two in a closet and let them figure it out. Until then, we had to resort to snickering at opportune times.
"Winner," Lola said, getting up to open the fridge. I tensed. "Too bad you're not on the good side of the family, or you'd be bringing better beer." She swung the door open to reveal two six packs from a local brewery.
"What? I like that beer!" I went for indignant, hoping to sidetrack her from any more teasing about my family name. She didn't do it that often, but perhaps the cold glare she got was prevention enough. Either that, or she figured I resented not getting to share in my so-called distant relatives' wealth.
"Naw, chill, Cat, I know you're not one of them," she drawled, bringing one of the six-packs to the table and setting several out. "You, for instance, are not a pansy."
"A... " I know my eyebrows shot up to my hairline. Chip made a snorting sound, and now it was Lola's turn to pound him on the back. Felicia just looked smug, while Lisa giggled. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"Well, like that pretty boy," Felicia said, grabbing another slice of pizza. "What's his name. The one with the bodyguards... "
Suddenly I found my beer label very interesting, the way it was curling at the edges. "Hunh," I said, not sure whether it would be interpreted as 'tell me more' or 'I couldn't care less' and hoping she went for the latter.
"Quatre Raberba Winner," Lisa answered, nodding. "I've seen his picture in the mags. I can't believe you're related to him," she said, shaking her head. "He's such a... "
"Momma's boy," Lola answered.
"None of you guys have ever met him in person," Chip pointed out. "What's with girls and gossip, anyway?"
"Oh, and you never chatter on for hours about stock racing teams and who's doing what to what car and who's changing to what team," Lola retorted.
"That's different." Chip made a face and busied himself opening the bottle of beer for Lisa.
"Sure." Lola threw her beer cap at him. "Naw, see, Cat, you're like... " She waved the hand that held her pizza slice. "Someone who kicks ass and takes names. I bet you don't even know how to tie a tie!" She laughed, and Felicia joined her.
I do, too, I grumbled silently. Six different ways, and a bowtie, too. And I wasn't a momma's boy, either. I didn't tell the Maganacs to go with me everywhere, they just decided on that themselves. I frowned at my beer, wondering when the label had been completely removed.
"Oh, don't get us wrong," Felicia said, consoling, her hand on my arm. "We're sure you have a really nice family. It's just certain elements that... well, I'd bet that guy's never done a hard day's work in his life. He's soft, y'know? Too pretty."
"Pretty," I repeated, puzzled.
"Yeah." Lisa shrugged. "Girls don't like pretty boys."
"Never date someone prettier than you," Lisa agreed.
"Maybe I should change my last name," I pondered, half to myself.
"It's a perfectly fine last name," Chip said. "Don't listen to these bitches. They'll make you paranoid, man."
I was struck with the sudden urge to get as far away as possible from the image of myself, a year before, entering or leaving some restaurant with three Maganacs in tow. While wearing a suit, no less, with white-blond hair curling a little and that stupidly innocent and gentle smile pasted on my face that I'd adopted during the war to confuse the opposition. No one suspects the baby face, I always used to say, and Duo proved in his adaptation that I was right; we both had that pattern of defense.
Maybe it's time to get rid of the baby face, too. Lisa nudged me, and I gave her an apologetic smile.
"We didn't mean to pick on you," Lisa said. "Just seems weird, y'know, to know someone distantly related to so much wealth."
"I'm not going to start handing out limousines," I replied.
"Why bother?" Felicia cackled. "In this neighborhood, it'd be stripped in twenty seconds!"
"Ten, on this side of campus," Chip replied.
"I want to do something... different," I said, glancing sideways at Felicia. She frowned, pausing with her beer halfway to her lips, and raised her eyebrows at me. "Something," I explained, "to get away from even the remote taint of that category." I snorted, derisive, at the thought of being considered pretty.
"Oh," Lola said, with a knowing smile. "There's lots of things. Bet that rich side of your family doesn't ride motorcycles, for starters."
"Or have tattoos," Chip suggested.
"Or piercings," Lola crooned. "Piercings are... " She sighed, a glazed look coming into her eyes.
"What? Do you have any?" Chip looked mostly baffled, the expression deepening as Lola blushed bright red. "What? You do! Show!"
"I'm not showing you," she muttered, hunkering down in her seat. "It's personal."
"I've always wanted a tattoo," Lisa commented, taking more napkins to pat at her third slice of pizza. "Just don't know what I'd get."
'04' would probably be too obvious, I thought. So would 'Sandrock'. But... I glanced around the table. "I think I want to get a piercing," I announced.
The entire table went silent, their faces gaping. Chip was the first to move, shooting up from his seat with a hell.
"School project later, Cat project, now!"
Next thing I knew, I was being dragged down his hallway, a girl on each arm, and Chip shoving at me from behind. The drawback, of course, was that with Lola tugging on one hand and Felicia on the other while Lisa led the way, I couldn't get my hand free long enough to finish my beer.
It felt like I was staring at a deluxe version of the three monkeys. Lisa had her hands over her ears, and Felicia was covering her mouth. Chip had a hand to his head, still laughing, while Lola looked both worried and smug.
"Wow," was all I managed, swaying a little in the door. "It feels... " I started to shrug, felt the bandages against my chest, and winced. "It's... wow."
"Adrenalin rush," Lola told the others. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and got up, approaching me as carefully as though I were a wild feline. "So... can we see?"
I blinked at her, and without thinking twice, pulled up my shirt.
"What happened to just getting your ears pierced?" Felicia gave me a puzzled look.
"The guy talked me into it," I told her, still holding up my shirt. "I was going to do just one, but he said better to do both, so I didn't feel lopsided, or something." I shrugged. He was the expert, after all, right? I was just the guinea pig. Or something. That seemed to be the most I could manage, mentally, with the blood still pounding in my ears. 'Or something.'
Lisa stood up to see better, and scowled. "Hey, there're bandages in the way."
"That's all? Just your nipples?" Felicia snorted. "I would've thought—"
Chip made a choking sound and crossed his legs suddenly. "Don't you be talking about putting holes in other places. It was bad enough with you three looking at pictures for the past hour." He did look a little green.
"Two isn't enough?" I made a face at Felicia, and she grinned, unrepentant. I took a step forward and the room tilted. Damn, it felt just like the first time I'd run a training program on Sandrock. Like every blood vessel in my body was wide-open, pumping blood at mach one while my stomach did flip-flops. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to go run five miles or throw up.
"Whoa, Cat, sit down," Lisa said, and I was guided to the sofa while the three girls hovered around me.
"I think he needs more beer," Chip said, peering over Lisa's shoulder.
"Beer good," I managed, gasping.
The drawback was that in class on Monday, the three girls kept staring at my chest. I complained until Lola pointed out that now I knew what it was like to be female and wear a low-cut shirt. Disgruntled, I slunk down in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest, but had to shift positions when the pressure on the metal made my entire chest throb strangely. The worst, of course, was that now any pressure on my nipples shot straight to my groin. Thanks for erogenous zones, which are normally great things unless you're trying to focus on structural engineering projects and not walk around feeling like you're fifteen again.
It was a little annoying, but I hoped it'd pass.
What wouldn't pass were the glances between the girls, punctuated by long-suffering sighs from Chip. I managed to ignore all of them until the end of class, when Lola's teasing caught my ears.
"We timed this all wrong," she murmured to Felicia. "We're moving into sweater weather. It'll be months before we have an excuse to see him bare-chested!"
My face went hot instantly. I threw my bag over my shoulder, muttered my excuses and fled. Didn't help much, though, and I wondered if that notorious girl-gossip tendency extended as far as my private life. It felt as though every girl between one class and the next was staring at my chest.
Well, I told myself, trying to look on the bright side. At least it's not a neon sign that says, Gundam Pilot Here. I scratched my head, made a note that it was time to get more dye for my hair, and wondered whether a neon sign of Pierced Both Nipples On Saturday Night was really that much of an improvement.
Everything healed, including my self-image, once the bandages were off and I had gotten over the paranoia of being convinced every person on campus was staring at my chest. Classes continued, and I signed up for the next semester with the rest of the sophomore class. I still had one more semester before I had to declare a major, and signed up for more general education requirements. I didn't have to choose a major for another semester. I had time.
The weather turned bitter cold, with little snow but days of driving rain and brutal wind, whipping the rain sideways and making umbrellas an experiment in utter pointlessness. After several weeks of watching me enter class soaking wet and shivering, Lola took matters into her own hands. We'd just finished a major review class for the upcoming final, when she snagged my shoulder and started hauling me through the departing students.
"We're going shopping," she announced. "You need a coat."
"I have one," I protested.
She gave me a look that would've curled Gundanium, and I shut up, knowing when I was defeated. She kept that tight hold on my arm anyway. Outside the building, we bent over, twisting against the wind and pelting rain, heading off campus for the small strip of stores nearby. One of them was a clothing outlet, and she threw the door open and shoved me in unceremoniously.
"Hey, no need to get pushy," I said.
"Sure there is, if it's forty-two outside and you're wearing a jeans jacket." Lola pushed her wet hair out of her face and narrowed her eyes at me. "What's your budget?"
It took a second to process, before I blurted out a number I could manage if I ate nothing but macaroni and cheese for the next month. That was okay, actually; for all Duo's complaints about the meal, I happened to love it. I didn't have to work half as hard to stay in shape on that diet as I'd had when stuffing down four course meals every day for lunch. Plus, the directions were really easy.
"Okay, follow me," Lola commanded, and I dutifully dripped my way through the racks of men's coats. She pursed her lips, measuring me up, and divested me of my jacket and bag, dropping them by her feet. "Try this on," she said.
The first was thigh-length, and brown, and she stared at it for a second before telling me to take it off. The next was black, and hip length, but a little narrow around the shoulders. I don't know what the next ten looked like; they all sort of blended together in a blur of Lola handing me coats, making me turn in a circle, and then telling me to ditch one and try the next.
I was ready to lie down on the floor and beg for mercy when she surprised me by clapping her hands and smiling brightly. "Oh, that's perfect," she purred, and I turned in another circle, still half-convinced she was going to tear it off and thrust another coat at me.
"It's... what?" I stared down at it, smoothing the thick black wool with my hands, and gave her a puzzled look. "What's different between it and the others?"
"Men," Lola snorted, coming closer. She steered me towards a mirror. Standing behind me, her nose was just barely visible over my shoulder when she stood on tiptoes. "The shoulders are broad enough for you, and the double-breast will keep rain and wind from getting in." Her hands came around my chest, smoothing down the coat, tugging a little at the front while she buttoned it up. "And the cuffs are long enough for your arms, and it goes in just a little at the waist and hips, with a bit of flare, and the ankle-length with your height... " She sighed, pleased, and I gave her a crooked smile. It looked the same as four others she'd told me to try on, but if she was that ecstatic about it, I figured arguing would only delay the torture.
"Okay, fine," I said, shrugging. I turned in her arms, and grinned down at her. "Pleased with yourself, are you?"
"Very," she purred again, looking up at me. Her eyes were half-closed, or perhaps she was still fiddling with the buttons. Lola tilted her chin up, and I saw a flash of green, and knew she was looking at me from under her eyelashes.
It felt right, even if I'd never done it before. I kissed her. Perhaps in gratitude. Perhaps because my Gundam was saying it was time to get out and try that third option, again. Perhaps because her hair was still a little wet, slick strands plastered to her forehead, or her lips were parted and the day was rainy and I was a big, dumb, male who wanted to know what it'd be like.
Neither of us made it to our next class.
He has to tilt his head back to lick at the drops of melting ice cream coming from the bottom of the cone, and ends up eating it from the bottom up. The last few bites are squeezed into his mouth. He wonders if the clerk has any clue who's sitting in the second-rate parlor stuffing ice cream into his mouth like some small boy trying to finish his dinner fast enough to still have daylight to play.
Quatre wipes his hands on a few napkins, picks up his gift, and tosses the napkin, leaving without a word. Outside, he blinks against the bright sunlight, and pulls sunglasses from his pocket. Out of habit he checks his phone, but there haven't been any calls, and he's not sure he'd answer if there were. There are people whose calls he'll answer even in the dead of night, even in the midst of tense negotiations, but on this day, he prefers to think, to wander, to prepare.
He stares into the window of a dress shop, and wonders whether purple and orange are still fashionable colors. He's worn the same dark suits for too many years, and he absently shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. There's a silk-painted scarf in the window, and he stares for a long moment before going inside to purchase it.
That was how I lost my virginity. I don't remember much, but then, if I'd thought coat-shopping would be a blur with a woman involved, I was far more naïve than I realized. Sex with one was... well. It was beyond a blur. It was the very definition of blur.
My nipples were a shitload more sensitive, I discovered. I nearly came the second her hot mouth descended on one nipple, her tongue flicking the ring gently while her fingers tugged on the other ring. I'm pretty sure I left claw marks in the door, trying to hold myself up, and I might've dented the doorknob before I thought to push her backwards, towards the bed. My entire body was screaming with a message I'd only gotten two or three times before in my life but never with the chance to do anything about it.
Her skin was smooth, pale as colony-born, and I dragged my fingers across her chest before I realized what had me so astonished. It wasn't the reddish nipples, standing proud on her breasts, or the gentle sweep of her collarbones down to rows of ribs. It was the utter smoothness. No gun shot scars, no knife marks, no signs of war engraved on her body. I had to pause, quelling a fear that she'd see my body and recoil in horror. The war had been kinder to me than Heero or Trowa, but still... a gunshot wound is still a gunshot wound.
The curls at the juncture of her thighs and pelvis were a light copper, and wiry, and she arched her back as I ran my fingers through them, until I hooked a finger on a ring and nearly jerked back in surprise.
"Piercings," she sighed, and blushed.
Curious, I pushed her legs apart, so I could stare. Damp and glistening, two rings sat opposite, nestled within the folds, and I tugged, twisting lightly, enjoying the whimpers she made. I had no frickin' clue what I was doing, to tell the truth. I hoped she didn't notice, but I followed the sounds she made, encouraging me, and I stroked, prodded, and rubbed until she begged me to kiss her. The only thing was, she was pushing my head down, not pulling me up, and it took a second for me to figure it out.
I guess I did okay. She made a lot of noise, while I struggled to figure out some kind of rhythm and come to grips with the tangy bittersweet taste on my palate. It wasn't bad, just... different. The whole thing was different. I was different. Maybe that's all that mattered.
She had condoms, and I recall being eternally grateful that I didn't have to reveal my lack of preparation, but knowing Lola, she would've worked around it somehow. She ripped the package open, but did it for me, and her hands on me made me nearly come again. Lola chuckled, the sound becoming a sigh as she lowered herself on me, and I clawed at her hips, wanting more. Then she started to move, and I couldn't comprehend wanting anything but this... and then she bent over to suckle at my nipples – because that's the only word that could possibly describe – and my body had no interest in my mind's commentary then.
Pure, total instinct. It was exactly like the last battle with Libra, knowing what to do without need for a guideline or rules or someone to show me the way. I just let go, rolling over until she was pinned beneath me, and let my body do what it wanted. And it wanted to be inside her, deeper and farther and my god, I don't know what I thought or saw or did but I remember her moaning in my ears and maybe that was me, too, and my entire body tensed, arching, slamming deep to explode into a million pieces like the death of a Gundam and her ankles were locked around my waist and I was shuddering, slowing, moaning, my eyes wide or maybe shut tight and her hands tweaked my nipple rings and I shivered and slowly collapsed, rolling over at the last minute so she was straddling me.
We were quiet for several long minutes. One of my hands was buried in her hair, brushing gently as I stared up at the ceiling. I was trying, oddly, to comprehend how it was that the first time I brought someone back to my apartment, it was to lose my virginity.
I certainly felt different. I wondered if I went and looked in the mirror, would it be like the nipple rings? Would others know it, sense it, react to it? Was it like carrying a gun, where only those who know their own guns would see that you had one, too? Was it like that strange insulated world of mobile suit pilots – which included even us Gundam pilots – where the faded calluses and random hand motions were clear sign that you were among those who understood?
Lola sighed against me, turning her head to stare across my little one-room apartment. I wondered if I should apologize for the place being so messy. I wondered if this meant we were going to do this again. I wondered if this meant I had lost something in my friendship with her.
"What's this from?" Her finger traced a scar that ran from my armpit, several inches across to my collarbone. It was a jagged line, made sensitive by her fingernail, echoing the old injury.
"The wars," I said, covering her hand with mine.
"Plural," she breathed, and was silent again for a minute. Then she shifted, curling up closer, and tugged her hand out from mine. "That's a beautiful piece," she whispered, turning her head to stare at Wufei's gift. "Not what I expected to find on your walls, though." She laughed, softly, against my chest, and her breath across my nipples made me shiver again.
"A friend gave it to me," I told her.
"It's gorgeous."
"Yeah." I went back to running my hand through her hair, and tried to figure out how I felt. Her body was curves and slopes, cushioned against me, and it felt good. It felt... it felt strange, too, knowing I'd been that vulnerable with someone. I'd never imagined there were any but four other people in this universe around whom I could ever truly be myself. But maybe having sex – like so many other things – was just one more way to find out that I'd never been myself before.
I didn't like that thought. It felt like I was betraying the first peers to accept me not only as one of their own, but their leader, in some ways.
"I guess I expected something a bit more... " Lola shrugged, and her fingers trailed down my chest, catching on the few white-blond hairs around each nipple. "Stark."
"Stark?" I frowned, thinking of all the colorful oil painting and watercolors in the houses where I'd grown up. Every room had at least three original pieces of art, if not more. Stark was the last thing I'd apply to my usual surroundings, let alone as a description of a natural tendency.
"Yeah. Black and white photographs, or maybe pen-and-ink," Lola murmured, a little sleepily. "You just seem so... withdrawn. Like your world isn't in colors for you and you resent those of us who can see the rainbows... "
My hand slowed, came to a stop, and I could only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling.
"Maybe you just don't know how to look," she continued, her voice dropping into that purr again. "Wrong eyes. Rose-colored glasses got smashed, and now you think the world's all gray."
Her fingers thumped on my chest, and she snuggled closer, interlacing one leg with mine. I realized the condom was still on me, but couldn't be bothered to move. Wrong eyes, she'd said. Smashed-up rose-colored glasses of pacifism, destroyed by the Barton Incident and the recognition that my fight had been futile if it did nothing but make Mariemaia's attack so damn easy. I didn't bring peace, I'd found; I'd created a weak world, bereft of its defense or will to defend, easy pickings for the next Khushrenada.
"Shhh," Lola sighed. "Your heart's thumping a mile a minute... " She shifted, tilting her head, and I craned my neck to see her giving me a sad smile. "I'm sorry it wasn't that good."
"Wasn't... " I was stunned. "It was... you were... excellent. Really. I... " I tugged her up closer and kissed her quickly on the lips.
When I pulled away, her eyes opened slowly, and the sorrowful little look was still there.
"I don't know, Cat," she said. "Your body will react... that's just hormones. I know how that works," and she sounded just a little bitter, but then she smiled again. "But... something I said just made your heart beat far faster than it did while we were having sex."
"I don't understand," I said, frowning.
"You don't need to, yet," she replied, and patted me on the chest, a comforting and yet somewhat patronizing move. "But your heart only pounds when it's involved in the picture. If it's not... then it's not. No harm, no foul, I enjoyed it, too."
I puzzled that out, and could come to no logical conclusion as to what the hell she meant. Sex had been mind-blowing, and put my body on a vibrational level with a bad gyro motor in the midst of a fierce battle. And my mind had certainly shut down, but... how did I feel about it?
Worried, mostly, I thought, and shifted out from under her. The condom was starting to be really annoying, and I wanted to clean up before settling down for a nap. She murmured something incomprehensible, and I pushed the hair out of her face before peeling off the condom with a disgusted look. I threw the condom in the trash by the kitchen sink, instinctively covering it with some papers on the countertop I'd been meaning to throw away. Then I washed my face and brushed my teeth.
Feeling more human, I rolled my shoulders, stretching my arms over my head and shaking out my legs before heading back to bed. Lola had rolled over on her back, facing the wall, and was curled up with my two blankets around her in a small lump.
I was just lifting up the blanket to slip in beside her when someone knocked on the door. It wasn't the landlady, who never knocked but taped a note to the door. Who else knew where I lived, other than Heero and Duo? Even Wufei had written in care of my school address. One hand was under my pillow in an instant, relieved my gun hadn't been knocked away while Lola and I rolled back and forth so energetically. I checked and cocked it as quietly as I could manage.
I grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them on, managing to only get the bottom two buttons done in the few seconds it took me to cover the ten feet to the door. The gun was in my right hand. I opened the door with my left hand, keeping my body at an angle and my gun at the ready.
"Bad time?" Trowa tossed his head, getting the long fall of auburn out of his eyes, and stared down at me with an amused look. There was a duffle bag by his feet, and he was leaning up against the doorjamb. He took in my appearance in one swift glance, and raised his eyebrows. "Or do you welcome all your old friends this way?"
End Part 3
next chapter coming soon...
(:./sol/nothing3)
