Rating: PG
Genre: general/humour/romance
~Calla.
- - -
Crushed
"Miss Catherine Bloom? Please follow me." A young man from behind the desk caught her gaze and motioned for her to follow him. He was smartly dressed, his uniform white, clean and impeccably neat as they weaved through hallways and corridors of the gigantic building.
The doors looked the same with their polished handles, embossed room numbers and the slot where the necessary folder. Catherine assumed that this was where the staff placed important folders and files for the occupant of the small room to receive.
"How are you today?" The question caught her off guard for she had been focused on a nameplace one second too long. It had read "Baylor" and for a moment, her mind had processed the name "Barton". If wasn't before she double-checked that she realized her error.
"Fine."
They had moved fast, using elevators when available and stairs when the wait was a little too long. Her guide halted and turned on his heel to face her and the woman tried not to notice how tall she was compared to him. The location could have been anywhere within the building, the only difference was the colour of the walls that indicated they were on a different level.
"Here is the room, please sit down and make yourself comfortable. He'll be with you shortly." She entered alone, her eyes taking in the stark white walls and the way the contents on the tables were organized, it felt unnatural to her.
"Thank you," and she smoothed out her white gown, her knuckles paling as she waited for him to come.
- - -
Oh god. O god. What am I doing here? I could be somewhere else right now, much more comfortable than this place. The arcitect should be been fired, there isn't a window in this room!
But why am I here? I'm here because I need to.
Need to? I don't need anything, I'm an independant woman in an independant world. I'm doing fine, ask anyone and they'll say the same thing. Catherine Bloom is in perfect health and of sound mind. She can leave this place whenever she wants. Well, maybe that's too strong of a word. she's here to find out.
Okay, so I'm in denial and perhaps slightly insane, it never fails when you start talking to yourself in Third Person. Although I have to say, it is quite fun as long as nobody catches you in the act.
Dear god, someone ram my head into the wall. That ink pen looks mighty tempting. Whoa, no suicidal Catherine here, you're not going to die from this, it's just a friend call that's all. Just to find out. Something. Or nothing. No bit deal.
I am in so much trouble.
"Hello, Miss Bloom." Okay, so the door opens and he steps in, looking as clean and neat as the rest of the staff who works here.
"Please, call me Catherine." He smiles down at me as he places a stack of folders and letters on his desk and pulls up a chair to sit down on. He smiles far too much for his own good. Oh my god. Get me out of here. I want out!
"So, what can I do for you today?"
Breathe. Lungs to Cathy's brain, are you getting enough oxygen up there? I don't think so. Is your pulse quickening? Check. Your hands clammy? Check. All symptoms of nervousness. You've been diagnosed correctly, so let's get out of here.
"Maybe I should come back another time, you must be busy this time of year."
"I don't have an appointment right away and it's nice to see you."
He's sitting down, he's facing me. He's staying.
"It's nice to see you too."
Is that an ultimatium? Is he actually commanding you to stay and are you actually staying here?! Alert! Wee-oo-wee-oo, the red lights are coming on. Back up, woman, you're out of your league.
"I - I'd like to thank you for what you did for my brother."
Okay, maybe I'm overreacting just a little bit. He's a nice guy, clear blue eyes and a soft face, he really does reflect his upbringing. No wonder Trowa and he are still close friends.
"Oh, it was my pleasure, Catherine. I hope he's feeling better now?"
He's leaning forward towards me. Why so close? Wait! He never sat behind his desk, duh! But that means - no way! Could it be? Get a hold of yourself, Catherine, remain calm and collected, you're not Trowa's sister for nothing.
"He can't stop talking about her. I have you to thank for finding Midii."
"You're welcome."
He's leaning back in his chair. What now? Do I ask him? As if, what and how am I going to ask? "Hi, Quatre, I just wanted to know if " - no, that doesn't sound right. "Hi, Quatre" - okay, let's drop the "hi" part because it's making me sound like an idiot. What to say -
"Catherine?" He leans forward again. You want to evaporate like smoke and seep under the doorway to your freedom.
"Yes?" but immediately you react by turning your face towards his and you're caught.
It's the eyes that catch as you fall for him. Those sweet baby blues.
Such a fool, that's what you are, such a fool. One day, he comes over to the tents and the three of you are talking when suddenly you realize that you've been staring at those hands a little too long. Next, you wonder what it would be like to touch his lips and hear him say sweet things into you ear, and you have no doubt that he's incapable to saying such endearments, because it's Quatre and because he's a sweetheart.
And you feel as if you've lost all reason. Wondering, pondering, dreaming, worrying, it's all in the game, baby. You've heard it all before and you've seen it all before. Back when Trowa was like this, you thought that a good smack in the head could possibly clear his befuddled thoughts.
But now you realize that they've only gotten clearer.
"Would you like to have lunch with me?"
He says it so casually, like friends. Is that all we are, friends, or just acquaintences? You know what I need right now? And don't you dare say "I need Quatre" because I don't. That's entirely out of the ballpark and a whole new game in itself. I would like to have some of my throwing knives with me right now and a target that's very, very far away. There's nothing like practice to calm your mind and contentrate.
But isn't Quatre my target? Or maybe it's me who has been hit.
I'm ringing my own alarm here and it's not getting me anywhere. Take a step forward, or upward, or sideways. Anything but backwards. Do something!
"If you have some other plans, then I understand."
Oh shit, did I just ignore him and miss my chance at getting to know this man a little more, over? Wow, what a way to blow it, Catherine. He's getting up, he's leaving and soon he's going to show you out the door!
"No, wait." Somehow, your legs manage to support your weight up and you wobble uneasily as your knees unhinge themselves. "I'd like to join you, Quatre."
He's smiling and oh god, what a smile. And not only that, he's smiling at me. This is heaven. Well, almost. Oh hell, who am I kidding? You're right at its door and when he asks you to come in, you accept gladly.
Because, what better way is there to start? I'll tell you. It starts when he smiles, says your name, and slips his hand into yours.
