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"Keep In Time"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. They belong to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: R Warnings: AU, sap, angst, fluff Pairings: 3x4. Summary: A suspicious accident leaves Trowa without
a skating partner, sentencing him to a year without competition. Quatre
is an injured dancer, trying to find a way to live without his joy.
Together, they make new rules and find a new path. "Keep In Time" Chapter 16 “Cathy, you were right,” Trowa said, sitting on the couch, curled up in an afghan at her feet as she hung up the phone and picked it up again, trying to arrange a ride for the party tonight. He absently touched her walking cast… it would be coming off soon, and then she could maybe skate again. If she’d take him back. “What now?” Cathy asked, the phone in hand, about to dial someone else. “You were right. About Quatre being a spy…” Trowa said again, looking miserable. “I know. You told me already. Cried your eyes out on the kitchen floor like a baby about it. I called Petra. What else do you want me to do? Rock you to sleep or something?” She answered sarcastically and dialed again, getting an answer finally, just to pout when the answer was no. Only then did she look at Trowa. “You can drive me to the party, right Trowa?” It was framed as a question, but there was no question. It was an order, “And you can come pick me up when I’m done if I’m coming home. I might stay out if Jeff’s parents aren’t home.” Trowa hugged the afghan tighter. “Do… Do you have to go out tonight, Cathy? We can stay here…watch some of those movies you’re always talking about… I’ll go buy us popcorn if you want… Or order Pizza? My treat…” Cathy huffed, “No, Trowa! I’m not staying home with you during the party of the week! It’ll be the last good one until those prep-school bitches throw that party on Saturday.” Trowa found an opening, “I heard Relena will be at the school-merging party,” He said, desperate to keep Cathy talking. He didn’t want to be left alone. He hated being alone. What had he been thinking, telling off Cathy? He thought he could do things as long as he had Quatre by his side, but he was wrong. He was wrong on so many levels… He needed Cathy. She grimaced, “GOD, I know! I should do something nasty to that little cheating bitch. I should beat her over the head with the cast she gave me.” Trowa nodded solemnly. He suspected it for a while now… the only people who had benefited from Cathy’s injury were Team Lowe. Who else would have slit Cathy’s skate? It had to have been Relena, or Heero. And that meant that he could blame all of this on Team Lowe. It was their fault Cathy was hurt. It was their fault he couldn’t compete. It was their fault he had to deal with July. It was them who had thrown Quatre into his midst as a spy. And it was their fault he felt like his insides had been ripped out. He didn’t even want to move. Didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to eat. Didn’t even want to skate. He would have been fine just curling up on his bed for days. He was done playing the skating game. The politics, the sponsors, and the practices, and the diet, and the backstabbing, and never having a moment to do what he wanted to do, and the pressure to win, and the competition! It never ended! He would never be free of it! “Alright, Trowa, get up. Come on.” Cathy said, pushing him by the shoulder. Trowa blinked slowly, “…to get the popcorn?” “No, you dumb ass! To bring me to the party! I’m not staying here with you!” Trowa felt sick to his stomach all over again, “…come on, Cathy… Please? Just one night… like old times. Everything’ll be back to normal soon. You’re going to get your cast off in a few more days. I’m not with Quatre anymore. We can skate again. It’ll be just like before… Stay home with me.” He grabbed her arm and held her there, “Please, Cathy?” Cathy shook her head vehemently, “No way! You’re getting all freaky and clingy again, Trowa! Fuck! No wonder the other skaters say shit about you! Get away from me! Half the skating community thinks we’re sleeping together because of the way you’re so friggan dependent on me! I pick out your fucking CLOHTES still, for Christ’s sakes! Get a life! Don’t touch me anymore! Ever!” Trowa felt like he’d been punched, letting his hand fall away, “I- I don’t! I’m gay! You’re my sister! We’re partners! I need you!” “Stop SAYING that shit, Trowa! Grow up! You’re 17 years old!” Frustrated, hurt, and upset, Trowa turned away, glaring at the wall, “I wish that accident had never fucking happened! Things wouldn’t be so messed up if you had just kept skating with me!” “HA! This has been the BEST THING that’s ever happened to me!” Cathy howled, getting up off the couch, swiveling on her cast as he glared at Trowa, “I FINALLY got some fucking FREEDOM! And I got YOU off my back! I have friends! And a boyfriend! I’m POPULAR! Don’t you get that?! I’m invited to all the parties! I’m in on all the jokes, and I wear the latest clothes! Other girls WISH they were me! I’m glad I did it! Now get up and drive me to the party, then leave me the FUCK alone!” Trowa frowned, “…did what?” Cathy was too angry to pause. Too far gone to think. She wanted to get to that party, and she had to get through Trowa to get there. “Slit the skate, you dumbass! Do you think I was stupid enough to just leave my gear out where anyone could find it?! We know better than that!” “Why- What?” Trowa gasped, jaw dropping as he searched his sister’s face, “Why would you do that?!” Cathy rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Wake up the smell the Coffee, Trowa! Team Lowe had us at that competition! Relena nailed the double twist lift! You KNOW I couldn’t! You KNOW even if we skated our best, we’d be a few points behind! I won’t be second fiddle, Trowa!” Cathy spat, “I couldn’t stand knowing that the press would be all over her! They get press and publicity all the time because their rink’s better than ours! I had to get our name out somehow, didn’t I?! What’s better than a scandal!” “You broke your leg on PURPOSE!? How the fuck COULD you?!” Cathy smacked him upside the head, growling, “I didn’t break my leg on purpose! I slit the skate! I was going to turn it in after the competition and give my story about how our routine was ruined! YOU were supposed to fucking CATCH me! You always caught me in practice if I went off course! It was just bad timing that the seam gave way when we were doing our side-by-side step sequence! Bad timing that turned out to be great. Because I finally got rid of YOU for a while!” She hissed. The phone rang, and Cathy hobbled over, normal as could be, and picked it up, smiling and nodding excitedly. She hung up a moment later, and flicked her curly red hair over her shoulder dismissively, “I have a ride. You just sit there and be pathetic for a while longer. I have a party to go to. I’ll call you if I need a ride home.” Trowa’s whole world was crumbling down. Everything. Everything he though he cared about was wrenched out from under him… and Cathy was going to a party. Cathy was checking her make-up in the foyer mirror and making sure she had condoms in her purse… And he sat on the couch… curled around an afghan and wondering what the fuck happened. He didn’t even hear her leave, but she must have. He didn’t remember if getting dark, either, but when Trowa snapped out of his stupor, it was pitch black outside. But he was done ‘sitting on the couch, being pathetic’. He didn’t need Cathy. And he didn’t need Quatre. All he needed was to skate. He grabbed his skates and headed outside, his MP3 player in hand, trying to find a song that suited his mood. But when he got out there, he stepped into a pool instead of a rink. Soccer season was nearing, apparently. His rink was unusable. He considered dropping to the ground and crying himself to sleep outside in the middle of March, but he had already run out of tears. He grabbed his gear, throwing it over his shoulder, and stomped to his car, tossing his bag in the back and climbing in the front. He put the pedal to the metal, and headed to the rink. He had to think. And to think, he had to skate.
It was nearly eleven, and Dimitri had to drag his sleepy self to Hadford’s for Petra’s favorite ice cream. She wouldn’t stop bugging him! She had pestered and groaned and rubbed her pregnant belly, and told Dimitri that his child wanted the ice cream. It wasn’t her fault! It was the baby! Dimitri couldn’t say no to the baby, much less his wife, so, he climbed into the car and drove to Hadford’s for Pertra’s favorite flavor, walking in RIGHT as the teen worker was turning the sign. She might have been angry at the last-minute customer, but Dimitri was thrilled to get the tub of ice cream into a bag and out the door. The street was deserted as usual, and one of the lamp posts was broken. That was really the only reason that he noticed the light coming from his rink. It was a few blocks away from Hadford’s, but he knew what it was supposed to look like. And the lights inside were definitely on. Thinking that Petra (or himself, but he didn’t want to admit that) had forgotten to turn them off when they left a few hours ago, he resigned himself to driving over there as the ice cream melted. He pulled into the lot, though, and noticed a familiar jeep parked at the side door. The door that Trowa had a key for. Dimitri silently hoped that Petra had fallen asleep, because he had a sinking suspicion that he wasn’t going to be back home with that ice cream for a while. He walked into the rink, using his own keys to open the side door. He was grateful that Trowa at least had the peace of mind to lock it behind himself. He didn’t want to open up tomorrow to find out that his skater had been mugged in his own rink or anything, even though he was sure Trowa could hold his own under normal circumstances; it wasn’t normal that Trowa was out skating this late at night. He had to get up for practice in five hours. He should have been sleeping hours ago. He could only assume he was troubled about the break-up. Cathy had gloated to Petra about it, but Dimitri knew that it boded ill for Trowa. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find him at the rink, actually. Dimitri took his usual spot, straddling the boards. He put the ice cream down on the side of the rink, hoping the ice would keep it nice and frozen, prolonging it’s life a little longer. He waited until Trowa noticed him. But it took a while. The boy had his MP3 player on so loud that Dimitri could hear it clearly, even though Trowa wore headphones today. He was skating hard, doing loops, and tricks, and jumps just to work off his energy and frustration. Dimitri could even seen marks in the ice from laps. Finally Trowa moved by him, and startled, jumping so bad that he lost balance and fell to his ass on the ice, legs sprawled in front of him and eyes blinking. He pulled out his headphones, looking at his coach. “…hey Dimitri….” “Boyshka,” he responded back evenly, then smiled softly. “You’re sweaty. You ready for break.” He said, then patted the boards across from him, “Sit. Tell me. It’s about the boy, right?” Trowa got to his feet, and hopped up on the boards, dangling one foot over the ice and the other over the cement. He sighed, and looked at his hands, twiddling his thumbs, then began to chew on his nail a little, kicking his legs back and forth absently. Dimitri waited. And waited. And waited. Finally Trowa sighed, “It’s not just about Quatre. It’s about Cathy too. Quatre doesn’t want me. Cathy doesn’t want me. The only thing I have left is skating.” “That’s ridiculous, boyshka!” Dim scoffed, his deep voice echoing around the deserted rink, “I don’t know what happened with the boy, but I don’t think he meant to trick you. I think he liked you. The way he looked at you? You can’t fake that.” Trowa bit on his nail a little more, and stared at the ice, “You didn’t see the way he looked at Heero. You can’t fake that either.” He grunted, mumbled by his thumb. Dimitri pulled Trowa’s hand away, looking at it. “You’re biting it down to nothing, Boy! That’s enough, now.” Trowa put his hand in his lap, trying not to nibble on it more… He wasn’t succeeding. Dimitri weighed the consequences…. And even though it wasn’t worth it, he did it anyway. Picking up the ice cream, he hoped off the boards, “Come upstairs,” he coaxed, and then walked up the stands towards his and Petra’s office. Trowa followed a few minutes later, taking a second to take off his skates and slip on a pair of shoes to follow his coach. Dimitri grabbed two spoons from the kitchenette he and Petra had in their office, and then tugged Trowa into the upstairs practice room. They had a small dance floor for skaters to practice lifts without the added danger of ice and skates, and some comfortable chairs and a couch. They even got a little TV in there, too, using it for a break room so the dancers could eat their lunches, or work on homework when they had breaks between practices. When they got up there, Trowa immediately kicked his shoes off and curled up on the couch, putting a pillow around his middle so he could hug it. Having coached Trowa for years, Dimitri had learned what he needed. Just touching Trowa relaxed him immediately. He kicked his shoes off too, sitting on the other side of the couch then moving, shifting, and kicking until he got Trowa’s legs out from under him and made him put them in Dimitri’s lap, while Dimitri put his legs a little under Trowa. Like a charm, Trowa relaxed visibly, and smiled tightly at his coach, “I hope you don’t mind me coming here so late…” Dimitri cracked open the ice cream tub and handed Trowa a spoon, digging in while he sat with Trowa, just letting him know someone still cared at least. And he let Trowa talk, and talk, and talk. Then he stroked Trowa’s hair as he cried, pulling him into his lap and letting him fall asleep there, exhausted mentally and physically. Pinned to the couch, Dimitri had the next few hours until he had to get up and open the rink to figure out some way to explain to Petra what happened to her ice cream… He decided on hiding the evidence. Yes… Hiding was good.
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