Hopefully, posting this will relieve some people's suspicions that I have died/disappeared/run away screaming from my writing.
Now, because of the poll, I added a lot more to this chapter than I initially planned. That's probably why I had to break it up. In any case, it is still longer than all the other chapters and hopefully will be just as enjoyable. Have fun reading, and remember that I am your friend. You can NOT kill me.
Oh yeah. Trowa time.
~Litia
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. I just love to write. A lot.
Around This Life
Chapter Eight
The first thing I did when Duo dropped me off was go into the garage for the Daffodil. Whatever reason Trowa had for acting the way he did had something to do with that flower, I was sure of it. Once I?d retrieved it from the shelf, I went into the house to put on fresh clothes, then set off to find the man who?d given me the flower while I was still in the right mind to do so.
If I saw Mother, I would lose my nerve. Even Duo?s good spirits couldn?t keep me distracted from the memory of her actions.
After about fifteen minutes of searching, I came across the room in which my harpsichord was kept. At first it appeared as though no one had been in there, but something didn?t seem quite right. Perhaps it was the memory of the dream I?d had the night before, or the faint scent of cologne, but I was curious about what was in that room and ended up walking in with my guard down.
That?s why I probably should have seen it coming.
?I?m guessing that this is a room your mother tends to stay out of??
I jumped a little at hearing his voice all out of the blue like that, but steadied myself and answered, ?How did you know??
I spotted him over by the far wall, on the left side of a massive window which shone brightly from the midday sun. In front of him was an arrangement of pictures, pictures that I?d taken and collected myself, since Mother didn?t like candid photographs. She preferred portraits only, so I had to hang my pictures up in my own private areas of the house, which consisted of this room and my bedroom.
?Your mother doesn?t strike me as the type of person who?s fond of memories like these,? he said, almost too quietly for me to hear from my position by the doorway. The feelings of self-righteousness and slight anger I?d felt upon returning to the house had faded away and then returned without my noticing, and now I was just left with two options. Go or stay.
I opted to go.
As I approached him I noticed that he was looking at a particular section of photos. They were the ones from Milliardo and Lucretzia?s wedding. She had chosen lavender as the color for her bridesmaid?s gowns, and had each of our hairstylists place a flower on our right ears.
The flower was a?yellow?Daffodil.
I couldn?t help the gasp I emitted or the way my eyes widened, but I probably could have stopped myself from dropping the Daffodil. Which he inevitably noticed.
?Did I startle you?? he asked, his tone ever so calm as he bent down to pick up the fallen flower. I looked at him with obvious confusion, but didn?t say a word. I wanted him to explain without my asking. ?The flower, I mean.?
?Yes,? I said, unable to stop myself, ?Everything about you has been slowly startling me.?
A chuckle rumbled low in his chest as he stood up. ?So many things make so little sense,? he nearly whispered, running the petals of the flower between his fingertips.
I had to ask him, ?How did you know about the flower??
He seemed to come to attention all of a sudden, and paused. ?I recognized it from the picture.?
For some reason, I didn?t believe him. ?I don?t believe you.?
His fingers stopped moving along the petals and his eyes shot up to mine. That deep, piercing gaze took me by surprise with its intensity, as though he wanted me to say more. To challenge him.
?I didn?t think you would.?
We stood for a few moments in silence, until his eyes dropped back down to the Daffodil in his hand. He turned the flower around in his palm a few times before extending his hand out to me, offering for me to take it back.
?Keep it,? he said, raising his eyes back to mine. Without looking down at it I lifted my hand and retrieved the flower from him, my fingers brushing gently against his. The contact sent a shiver through me.
So many shivers. ?What are you doing?here?? I stopped myself from saying ?to me.?
?Getting to know the girl I?m supposed to marry,? he said, not making my question sound as foolish as I had said it.
?Through pictures??
?Pictures are precious moments, frozen forever. They?re memories that you can always go back to, even if you forget.?
Something told me that he was trying to point out more than just what a picture was.
?Would you like to go for a walk with me?? I asked, feeling unexpectedly restless. I couldn?t resist the bizarre urge to talk to him, to find out just what he meant by all the things he?d been saying to me. But the fact that I?d asked him to walk with me surprised even myself.
?Yes,? he responded, then waited for me to lead the way. I led us out of the room and down several long halls, where we walked side by side in silence. The whole time I found myself wondering what he was thinking, trying to figure out his mannerisms and the meanings behind them, but in the end he still remained an enigma to me.
It wasn?t until we walked outside that he began a conversation. ?Did you like the movie you rented??
I made a noise that barely resembled a laugh. ?Not even a little.?
?That?s too bad. Usually, when you try something new, you are pleasantly surprised by the way it turns out.?
?Usually,? I murmured. ?I guess I?m just not usual.?
?That?s quite an understatement.?
Instantly I puffed up. ?Do you have some kind of talent for offending people, Mister Barton??
?No, not for offending people. For observing people.?
?Well, did you ever think that your observations might be offensive??
?Did you ever think that your offense proves my accuracy??
?I-? I paused, trying to think of a good response. ?Why do you do that??
?Do what??
?Contradict me.?
?Because you are contradictive.?
?Stop that!?
?Why??
?Because! It?s- it?s rude, that?s why.?
?The truth tends to be lacking in manners.?
?Even so, you could still be polite when you speak.?
?I could, but then you wouldn?t respond so liberally.?
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. ?Mr. Barton, can we please get along??
Something resembling a smile appeared and then disappeared from his face. I tried to bury my annoyance. ?It might be difficult for us to get along if I have to worry about you stealing my car.?
?How else was I supposed to get away?? I asked angrily.
?What were you trying to get away from??
You, my mind screeched, but I decided to take a different approach.
?I?m just?tired of all these assumptions.?
?What assumptions??
?All of them,? I breathed, followed by words that flowed from my mouth before I could fully comprehend their impact. ?Everyone assuming that I should be married. Mother?s friends assuming that they should all have some say in the circumstances of my upbringing. Mother assuming that I?ll be ready and willing to marry whatever guy she throws at me.?
That was when I caught myself. I sucked in a breath and bit my lower lip so hard that I almost whimpered in pain, and Mr. Barton?s steps slowed considerably.
Several tense minutes passed by in silence. My immediate fear was that I had just let slip something that would lead to a revelation of my relationship with Duo, but I also feared that I had insulted him and, therefore, would be unable to convince Mother of my new accord.
It all changed with his words.
?So that?s what I did wrong.?
I jerked my head up at him with a question on my lips, but he spoke again more softly than before, as if he were talking only to himself.
?You were forced?I understand now.?
I was filled with questions, but there wasn?t a single one that I knew how to ask. Perplexed, I turned forward again and tried to make sense of his meaning.
But not without forming a truce first.
?Look, Mister- I mean, Trowa. Knowing my mother the way I do, I?m guessing that you didn?t have much more say in this than I did. So, let?s just try to make the best of things from now on. Ok??
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, but I kept my gaze steadily focused on an imaginary object off in the distance. With him staring at me like that, (and me being so confused,) I began to feel much like a child again. Needy, curious, and above all, uncertain.
And then, all at once, we were in the middle of a conversation.
We discussed a few things, rather quietly and without as much patter as most conversations possess. I asked him about the place he had come from, but he dodged the question and complimented me on my taste in cars to steal. This new, somewhat casual air between us made me feel a little more comfortable in talking with him, though I was still unaware of his reasons for agreeing to the whole arrangement. Soon after that, I was feeling bold enough to begin debating the best speed at which to drive his car in the middle of the night.
?Although. technically, it wasn?t the middle of the night. It was the evening,? I said.
?It was after dark, and to me, that?s night.?
?Don?t over analyze it like that! You?re just mad because I did a better parking job than you. While being slightly drunk, I might add.?
He eyed me from the side. ?You were driving my car while drunk??
I smiled innocently. ?Slightly drunk. There?s a difference.?
A smile snuck onto his face and I caught sight of it a split second before he hid it away.
?Ah HA!? I exclaimed, stopping in my tracks. He turned around and looked at me like I was a total fanatic.
?What??
?You do smile,? I stated triumphantly, ?Usually, I?m not sure if you?re smiling or if I?m just seeing things. But that was a smile.?
?Is it exceptional for me to smile??
?Well,? I explained, ?It seems like every time I see you smile, you hide it as soon as I notice.?
?That?s because I do.?
?What?? I blinked at him, dumbfounded. ?Why??
A certain gleam surfaced in his eyes. ?I thought it was only fair that I hide from you if you are going to hide from me.?
My lips pressed firmly together.
Dammit. ?All right. How about we make a deal??
One of his eyebrows quirked in interest. ?A deal??
?Yes, a deal. I won?t keep anything from you, if you won?t keep anything from me.?
Another smile crept onto his face, and this time it stayed there. ?Sounds good.?
We started walking again, and finally spoke like new acquaintances ought to. We discussed our favorite hobbies, our favorite colors, what kind of weather we preferred. I found it unfitting that his favorite season was winter, since winter brought with it a quiet, soothing feeling. Not unlike serenity.
Not like what I thought of him at all.
When we were on our way back to the house, I noted that I was still considerably discomforted by him, but couldn?t figure out why. I suspected it might have something to do with his tall, strong stature, which was more than a little intimidating when we were walking very close. But, for some reason, our being in such close proximity of each other didn?t really bother me.
It seemed almost pleasant.
Shortly before we reached the house, I was feeling good enough to begin teasing him about his hair. He didn?t seem to mind this, or mind the fact that I made several jokes about how many times I could have wrecked his car on the way home from my brother?s house. While speaking of my brother, I noticed a certain glow in his eyes but stopped myself from asking him about it. For once.
We ended up deep in another conversation in which I felt more than obliged to acquaint him with my life. I told him about my schooling, about how much I despised the Gossip Mongers and swore I?d never be like them. I even told him about Quatre?s proposal, and how I?d refused. He seemed a little startled by this, so I made a joke about not wanting to marry a blonde man.
Of all the things I told him about myself, I left our three very important factors: 1)details about my relationship with Mother, 2)the reasons for my brother?s separation from Mother, and 3)Duo.
I had the strangest feeling that it wouldn?t be long before he found out about Duo.
?Thank you for the conversation,? he said, once we were back inside the house. ?And the company.?
?Your welcome,? I smiled, starting to turn away. His hand on my arm stopped me.
?Promise me that you will eat something at dinner tonight,? he said, sounding concerned. ?Peagen said you haven?t eaten all day.?
I dwelled on that for a moment, remembering going down to breakfast but running back upstairs when I?d discovered that Mother was gone. Eating breakfast must have slipped my mind, and I found it somewhat?touching, that he had noticed.
My stomach soon cramped up at the realization that eating dinner meant facing Mother. ?Only if you?ll promise me something,? I said, the chance at satisfying my curiosity clicking in my mind. ?Promise me that you?ll tell me about yourself tonight, even if it takes until morning to do so.?
He stood in consideration for a few moments himself before nodding in agreement. I smiled at him one more time and began to make my way back to my room, wanting to put the Daffodil in some water before it dried out. Without a stem, it most likely wouldn?t survive, but I at least wanted to try and save it. It was a nice-looking flower, after all.
It could even be put next to the rose Duo had given me.
* * *
I stretched my fingers out delicately and released a slow breath.
Concentrate.
Relax.
Concentrate.
Relax.
I couldn?t decide which one I wanted to do more, so I just lifted my arms and let my fingers glide across the stings of the harpsichord a couple times before they floated back across and began to play one of the first pieces I?d ever learned.
It was my absolute favorite piece.
When the distinct melody of my harp being played drifted into the halls, Peagen knew to keep everyone away from that part of the house until I?d finished. I was in a zone when I played. Completely unreachable. Untouchable. Definitely not fit to be in the company of anyone that Mother would have let in.
Naturally, I always played for as long as possible. Not only to get away from Mother, but to get away from myself.
I didn?t find myself to be good company in those days.
While playing that piece on that particular afternoon, I let my thoughts drift toward the future. It wasn?t something I liked to think about a lot, but now that Duo and I were taking serious steps, it became necessary to consider all the obstacles we would face.
Money.
Separation.
Mother.
Money I wasn?t too concerned about, and I knew that neither Duo nor I would ever be unfaithful, but I still couldn?t see past my mother. No matter how I looked at it, there was no way to be free from her as long as I was with Duo. It tore my heart to think of my future and not see Duo in it, simply because Mother had done something to separate us. But at the same time, it was impossible for me to picture a future without Mother?s unbreakable hold on me. What could I do? She was my mother! How on Earth was I just supposed to leave?
My fingers began to tense up and I opened my eyes to bring myself back to the present. The sting of unshed tears caused me to close them again, so I gave up trying to play and just let my arms fall to my sides.
I heard a quiet breath let out behind me.
My hand flew to my heart as I spun around, but I relaxed upon seeing that it was Peagen. He smiled and lifted his right hand, showing me that he?d brought the phone with him. He mouthed the words, ?It?s for you,? and set it on the small stand by the door. Then he smiled again and left as quietly as he?d come.
Words cannot express how much I appreciated Peagen.
Without stopping to consider who could be calling me, I walked over and picked up the phone. ?Good evening,? I said.
?Good evening, Relena. This is Lucretzia. I was wondering if you had a few moments for another talk about your fianc?.?
Smiling wryly, I said, ?Absolutely. I have a lot to tell.?
?Oh?? she said, sounding surprised, ?Has he told you already??
This confused me. ?Huh? Has who told me already??
There was a pause. ?My mistake. I thought you were referring to something I?ve been discussing with my husband.? She stopped and gave what I was sure was a nervous laugh. ?I want to talk to you about Trowa Barton.?
?Oh?? I said, trying to remember what all I?d said to her about him. ?What would you like to say??
She paused again, and I began to suspect that she was calculating every word she said. ?Relena, do you remember mine and your brother?s wedding??
A few images from that day passed through my mind. ?Yes.?
Another pause. ?Do you remember that day well??
I frowned at this. Of course I remembered that day well! It was my brother?s wedding, for crying out loud.
?Yes, I remember it well.?
Yet again, she paused, and I felt myself becoming annoyed. ?Then, you remember Trowa Barton being there??
I stopped short. Her question reverberated in my ears for several long seconds before I finally realized that she had, in fact, said it, and I hadn?t just been imagining it.
?Relena??
A chill spread through me. Not like a chill from something that?s actually cold, but a chill from sudden and total shock.
Trowa was at the wedding?
I trembled. ?I?m sorry. What??
I heard her take a slow breath.
?I asked you if you remember Trowa Barton being at our wedding.?
I felt another chill makes it way through my body, and had to swallow before answering. ?No, I don?t remember him being there.?
She must have heard the change in my tone, which to my own ears sounded like ice had formed in my throat, because she suddenly changed her own to one far more cheery. ?Oh, that?s all right. I was just curious, that?s all. When you said the name ?Barton? I remembered that Zechs had invited someone by that name, but it may very well have been the father of Trowa Barton and not Trowa himself.?
This time I was able to catch the nervousness in her voice, but I said nothing about it and instead turned to walk over to the far wall. Once there, I looked closely at the pictures of Milliardo and Noin?s wedding that Trowa had been looking at earlier, and tried to find some sign that he had been there. Some glimpse of his face or strange style of hair. But there was none.
Lucretzia and I talked on the phone for around fifteen minutes before Peagen reappeared in the doorway. He motioned toward his watch as my warning that it was time to go change for dinner.
Which brought back the weight in my stomach at the thought of seeing Mother.
?Lucretzia, I have to go,? I said, sighing as I did so. ?Thank you for taking the time to call me.?
?It was my pleasure,? she said back, her natural affinity getting the better of her, ?You shouldn?t worry so much about your Mother. You?ll be out of there and away from her before you know it. And,? She added, which I suspected immediately was to ease her own mind, ?Don?t dwell on what I said about Mister Barton. Even if he had been at the wedding, it?s not as if it matters now.?
I felt my muscles tighten suddenly. ?No. I guess it doesn?t.?
?Goodbye, Relena.?
?Goodbye, Lucretzia.?
I pressed the off button and slowly lowered the phone back down to the small stand. Could Trowa really have been at the wedding? Had I seen him there, and merely forgotten?
Was that even possible?
The thought that he had been there, and now had come here, without telling me of our meeting previously to Mother?s arrangement, was more troubling to me than anything Mother had ever said.
It was as if he had lied.
Then I thought of something.
?I thought it was only fair that I hide from you if you are going to hide from me.?
My brow furrowed.
What in the world was he trying to do?
* * *
The hard wood pressed back against my forehead as I leaned my head against the door to the dining room. I was dressed, hungry, and ready to make idle conversation. So why didn?t I just walk in?
Because Mother was in there.
Several minutes passed with my considering just turning and going back to my room, but that would ruin my plan of fooling Mother into false security.
Darn my luck.
?You know, there is a way to avoid confrontation with her,? Mr. Barton?s voice said from behind me. I wondered briefly where he?d learned to elude the senses so well.
?May I ask what that is?? I groaned, pulling my face away from the door.
He appeared beside me and opened the door, eliminating any hope of escape. I panicked and felt my heart rate quicken, but then, he did something that made me eternally grateful.
He talked to me.
Nonstop.
Throughout the entire dinner, from the first course all the way through dessert, he engaged me in so much conversation that I didn?t even get the chance to look over at Mother. Not one time. Occasionally, she would try and involve herself in one of our topics, but Mr. Barton responded to her statements so fast that I could hardly tell she?d said anything. He wasn?t being too lively or outspoken. He simply made a remark on every little thing there was to remark on, and when I responded he would say something about the response I had made. It was something so simple to do, and yet, it amazed me beyond words.
From then on, all my thoughts of Trowa Barton were accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of utter relief. Had I spoken to Mother that night, had I even looked directly at her face, my resolve would have withered away and I would still be a slave under her cruelty.
That night was the first time that I truly felt like I was not as bad as Mother had told me I was.
We decided to have our talk outside, that way Mother couldn?t listen in without us detecting her presence. Mr. Barton told me of himself, just like I?d asked, but in a slow and even manner that led me to believe he was ashamed of something from his own life. He revealed himself to be nineteen, just a year older than me, and on his way to business school. Business wasn?t his career of choice, but it gave him something to study, or so he said.
He never mentioned his family, which further increased my belief that he thought as well of them as I did of Mother. Instead, he spoke appreciatively of his home in the north. A custom-designed cabin built for him by his grandfather, located on the side of a snow-covered mountain where he?d vacationed as a child. He said he lived there alone, and only stayed there during the winter when the snow was its deepest. The rest of the time he traveled around.
A part of me was itching to know if he?d traveled to a wedding in the last four years.
?Is there something you?re not telling me, Trowa?? I asked, using his first name with ease. This was something he took notice of as well, and a certain feeling of familiarity overcame me when he looked down and our eyes met. I couldn?t identify the source of it, but that feeling gnawed at me and seemed like it was something that lay just below the surface of my mind, demanding release.
?If there is, will you be angry with me??
His question rolled around in my head for a few seconds, then I answered, ?Is there a reason I should be angry??
I know for a fact I saw him smirk. ?Fair enough,? he said, appearing the same way he had when I?d first seen him. Impressed. ?I told you about what I feel is picture is earlier, ? I nodded, ?What did you feel when I said that??
That wasn?t an easy question to answer. ?I felt like?like you were trying to tell me something, other than what a picture was.?
?Hm,? he looked away for a minute, then turned back to me and continued, ?Have you ever looked at one of your pictures, and felt like you?ve forgotten something that was really important to you at the time it was taken??
Of course I had. That?s the point of pictures, to keep your memories for you in case you forget. ?Yes.?
He didn?t say anything for another minute, as if deciding whether or not he should continue. ?When I put that flower in your hair this morning, and when you took it from my hand earlier this afternoon, did something seem familiar to you??
Something seems freakishly familiar to me right now, I wanted to say, but checked myself. ?Maybe. I think I was more surprised than anything else, because of the way we?d been treating each other so far.?
This time there was a long pause before he finally asked, ?When you saw me two nights ago, did you recognize me??
I was taken completely off guard, and ultimately noticed a pattern in his questions. A startling pattern. ?Are you saying?did we know each other? Prior to the night before last??
My voice sounded a little bit more anxious than I?d hoped, and his eyes filled with something I recognized in my own every time I looked in the mirror. But I refused to accept what it was. How could it be? How could he feel such a thing from such a simple question?
Like the night we were talking about, I suddenly felt like he was staring straight through me again. ?No, we didn?t know each other,? he said.
I felt like breathing a sigh of relief. Lucretzia had been wrong. He hadn?t been at the wedding.
I noticed he was watching me. ?Is something wrong?? I asked.
?No,? he said, almost in a whisper. ?Nothing is wrong.?
My eyes squinted a little as I studied him. He closed his own.
?Perhaps we should return indoors. Peagen must be starting to worry.?
He turned and walked back inside, not waiting for me to follow.
TBC
~~~~~~~~~~
Someone asked me to start putting "To Be Continued" on the end of my chapters to remind myself that I have to work on my fics. It works.
Btw, if there were a lot of editing mistakes in this chapter, I apologize. I don't have the guts to face my beta reader right now because of my slow, slooooooooow progess on VMLT.
Remember not to kill me.
~Litia
Honest!!
