"Defying Gravity"

A Romance in Three Parts

Written By: Kaeru Shisho

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language

Pairings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3

Summary: A multi part story of romance starting with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer vacation.

"Part Three: It's Another Vacation"

Noin shrugged her shoulders. "People change, Duo. Don't close your mind to the possibility that you might as well. I know several young ladies eager to get close to you, both of you," she added for Heero's benefit.

She needed have bothered. Patronizing either of the young men was unlikely to get her anywhere. Heero moved closer to Duo, cloaked in his dark presence of protection and scowling as he rolled Duo's words around in his head. When had he tried having a child? Heero certainly knew it wasn't lately, and with who? The only girl's name he could come up with was Hilde's, which rankled in several ways. So engrossed was he in his mental exercises, his fishing exercises-- reeling in girl's faces, judging them for baby-producing merits, then tossing them back after failing to meet the necessary criteria, exceeding his limits-- that he missed his chance to drag Duo away from the confrontation and question him.

"Not interested," Duo said.

Heero tuned into the conversation.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Are you?" he asked her. "Are you looking to fool around?" He punctuated that remark with bouncing eyebrows, which Heero interpreted as an attempt to be comical.

"Duo, no, I'm married."

"Well, so is he." Heero's voice dropped into a growl. His possessiveness getting the better of his self-control. "To me."

It was a good thing Duo was holding the baby, because Noin might have dropped her as she jumped to her feet. "Milliardo! Come here! Now!"

Heero and Duo hadn't told anyone else. They had agreed, sort of, to keep it secret, and now that Trowa and Quatre had broken up Heero was glad not to flaunt it around Trowa. He had to stop her from announcing it to the world. Duo and he exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"I'm sorry," Heero said to Duo. "Noin... Lucrezia!" he shouted, tagging on a "please!" like the afterthought it was.

Milliardo was bounding to her side like a high-bred stallion. "Yes, love?"

"Did you know these two boys are married?" she blurted out, before Heero could put a stop to her actions.

"We were keeping it quiet," Duo said, meeting Milliardo's eyes directly. "I don't wanna rub Trowa's face in it, understand?"

"Did you draw up commitment papers?" he asked simply.

"No," Heero said. "We haven't had time." He jabbed Duo's hip again. "Let's go back to our cabin or take a walk."

"You actually understand the kind of commitment becoming civil partners is?" Milliardo asked Heero and stalling his departure.

"No, Mill," Duo cut in. "It was just a thing of the moment, you know, after one of those sexual marathons we have, in a state of post-coital bliss--"

Heero cut him off. "We had various discussions, occasionally arguments about the wisdom of the decision. We'd scoured Google for information and found out as much as we could about the legal position, about the advantages—"

"Many," Duo said, as the corners of his lips curled up.

"--and the drawbacks—"

"Few," Duo said offered up again. Another sly whip of a smile was Heero's reward for taking on the onus of explaining so well.

"We'd even found out how, if it all went terribly wrong, we could get a 'divorce' or rather a dissolution of the partnership after a year," Heero finished.

"That was of course looking on the pessimistic side," Duo finished.

Noin sighed as if relieved by this news. Her eyes drifted to Heero's hands, his arms clasped tightly over his chest. Duo's was holding the baby, but a ring gleamed in full view from his left hand. "I hadn't noticed the ring before now. Is that it? You just put on promise rings?" she asked.

"None of your business," Duo snapped. "In fact, it isn't anyone's business but ours, and kinda Commander Une's, but we cleared it with her so it's all cool with regulations and all, not that it mattered. We woulda done it anyway and I'da quit my job, but it didn't come to that. It's him and me; that's all."

"And it's never going to change," Heero stated as law. He clasped Duo's elbow and nudged him to back away. "No girls in our future and no children."

"Heero, that's so unfair to Duo. He loves children!" Noin cried out.

Lark started crying as a reaction to her mother's shout, and Milliardo took her from Duo, who looked bewildered.

"None," Heero repeated. "He is sterile." He met Duo's incredulous look with softened eyes. He watched as Duo examined the tip of his braid and brushed it across the back of his hand. Heero knew how soothing that could feel. He ached for Duo. Obviously, his faulty memory had cut out another important piece of information. Heero filled in a bit more of the gap in hopes that it might heal over, and to buy him time to recover. "Due to space radiation, probably."

"So, do not tell me I can find a girl and make a family, okay? Got that? I gotta guy and I'm satisfied." Duo crossed his arms across his chest in a defensive stance, imitative of Heero's own.

Milliardo stood transfixed in place, and Heero nearly smiled. Duo hadn't shared that particular information with him, Heero figured, and it wasn't in his file at work, apparently. Heero felt somewhat smug, because Milliardo thought he knew most everything about Duo Maxwell. Of course, the man had to know how Duo hated anyone feeling sorry for him. Duo had pride. Also, Milliardo had to be aware that for a guy who loved little kids, the news that he couldn't produce any had to have come as a blow. It bothered Heero deeply that Milliardo knew so much about his lover, but at times it helped if it meant he'd protect Duo from more inquisitiveness. Like now.

"It's not like I was given a choice. Pick one to love: boys or girls. But never think I'm not happy with how things turned out. My life's complete," Duo said.

"Duo," Milliardo started to say.

"I recommend you be re-tested. Find out where the... deficiency really is, and see if there isn't a solution to your medical problem," Noin said, attempting to be tactful.

"What's the excitement?" Trowa asked, flipping the Frisbee from hand-to-hand and studying the various expressions on all the faces. "Don't worry. I sent Jimmy off in search of a soda. So?"

Milliardo said, "Nothing. A misunderstanding. Lucrezia, time to go and leave these young men alone."

"Did you know these two boys consider themselves to be married? You're their friend."

"Lucrezia," Milliardo said, putting a hand on her arm and jostling the still-crying baby. "Not now."

"They're adults." Trowa was nothing more than a master of the deadpanned expression and laconic attitude. "It's not my business. You're married, why would you have problem it?"

"Well, they're both male, for one. They're just barely of age with their lives ahead of them for another, and they're limiting their experiences-- Not to mention they are war heroes to some and the publicity would be—"

"Nothing they can't handle," Trowa said. He turned to Heero. "You file your intention to make a civil partnership yet?"

Heero shook his head, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

"Then you have to wait fifteen days before you can actually do it," Trowa said. "I looked it up."

Heero nodded, and was thankful when Milliardo led his wife away with no further comment. That Trowa had looked up that piece of information revealed how serious he had taken his relationship with Quatre. Heero's chest tightened against a sharp stab of pain. It wasn't fair that his friend and work partner had survived the last mission only to have an ugly reality come down around his head.

"Let's go for a walk in the other direction," he said to Trowa and Duo.

"Go ahead. Jimmy's expecting me," Trowa said, deftly excusing himself from the pair.

(o)

His home was more of a fortress than he had remembered, but he had changed. He sent Rashid back to watch over the vacationers, and even though he hated to part with his dear friend who was like a father to him, he needed to bear this next step in his life alone.

Returning to his home after four years was a bitter-sweet delight for Quatre. It was like traveling back in time and entering childhood again. Each step, each walk revealed a forgotten memory: the little tomb where Quatre had buried his pet cat, Nawal, his "gift" from his youngest sister; the park where he had learned to ride a bicycle; the giant hedge of pomegranate bushes, behind which he had his first cigarette; the gazebo where he'd learned about boy-love for the first time and shared a furtive kiss. And the heat was the same. Hot and dry today, but with the arrival of rain it would become unbearably humid.

His estate lay outside a town, which had changed a bit through time, just like Quatre. After the war, rebuilding had turned the rural village into more of a city. Big malls and supermarkets replaced the tiny shops at the corner of the roads, and a few sandy roads were covered with the fake-asphalt manufactured on L4. He assumed that the children of family friends, who had visited and played with him, had grown into teenagers, but was uninterested in establishing contact with them.

Quatre missed Trowa very much. He left behind something important Earthside; he knew it and was reminded of it at every crossroad in the day. When he woke up in the morning and rolled to the side to hug Trowa, the emptiness he found instead disappointed and hurt him dreadfully. Quatre missed his touch, his voice, his scent, his intense gaze, and even the hickies Trowa gave him. Finding himself uncomfortably sticky from his morning walk drove him to shower, but then having wet hair was no fun without Trowa to jump on and play until it dried fluffy and wild.

It was awful. Quatre sighed as he dried his hair with a blow-dryer attached to the wall for that purpose. He dressed disinterestedly. A servant delivered a cup of tea. No, he wanted nothing more. Thank you. He sipped a cup of tea and gazed out the window of his room. He picked the phone up to call Trowa, but then desisted. What would he say?

His life was more complicated than ever. What Quatre hadn't told anyone was a promise he'd made to his father on his deathbed.

"I don't want to force you, Quatre, my only son and light of your dead mother's short life. You choose if you want to marry. But my last wish is to see you married. I don't want my son to wander here and there after my death. Everyone needs a companion, a companion who'll halve your sorrows and double your joys."

"I know but why hurry? Marriage is not a game," Quatre had argued.

"It pains me to put you in such a hurry, but I have very little time. I married at your age. It's the age when the bond is created and it strengthens overtime. I'm talking from experience, my son. But I'll have you married only if a proper bride is found for you. I would never play with your future," his father had said.

With tears in his eyes as he grabbed Quatre's hand in his own weakening one, he asked, "Will you marry?"

It was like time itself stopped to laugh at Quatre's state of confusion. He looked around for a little loophole to run away. He could not even find a proper argument. How could he marry? He liked boys, several of them, but no one in particular and no girls at all. Girls were the only possible sex for marriage in his family's eyes, he knew. Marriage! The idea itself was atrocious. But when he looked into the expectant face of his dying father, he didn't have the heart to refuse him.

He would have to find a solution later but at that moment with bombs exploding in the distance he answered, "Yes, father. I'll marry."

And so, harboring that terrible memory, that binding promise until he was nearly sick with worry, the days passed, one running into the other. Showing up at the corporate headquarters, attending meetings, half-heartedly joining his sisters at family meals—one day pretty much like the one before. He had never felt so alone and bored and dispirited.

One night, Quatre dreamed he was back at his home in the room he shared with Trowa. He crept stealthily next to the bed, and grinning mischievously, he shook his head above Trowa. Drops of water flew from his hair onto his still-sleeping boyfriend. Trowa groaned loudly. He was not a morning person. After mumbling something, from which Quatre caught only "morning" and "illegal", he rolled to other side of the bed. Quatre giggled and rolled, too. Trowa called out to him, and he turned his way.

"Quatre!" But the voice wasn't right. "Quatre, you've overslept again. Qadira sent me to wake you. She's waiting. You have an important meeting with her."

"I'm sorry!" Quatre scooted to the bathroom and slammed the door against any more of Abdel's shouting.

Abdel was one of the Maguanacs, who acted as servants, bodyguards, and administrative aids to the family. His name meant "servant" just as Qadira's meant "powerful" in Arabic. Although Arabic was rarely spoken by anyone but the very old, the L4 patois had absorbed many of its words into daily use, names especially.

All his sisters were so demanding of his time, and pushy. He yearned for his laidback lover then remembered he'd left him for this and nearly cried as he tried to shave. He ended up nicking his chin in two places.

He met Qadira in the sunroom where breakfast had been laid out hours earlier. It was gone now and his sister was dressed for going out. Sunlight streamed past the shades, washing the tiled floor with warmth, but none of it reached Quatre.

"Let's walk," she said and headed out the double doors. He was left with no choice but to follow.

"Quatre, our father's aid recorded his last wishes, and, now that you are here, it is time to review how you must participate. Since you agreed to marry, I'm trying to find the best girl for you. Most I think of are just not good enough for you. Nevertheless, I have a girl in my mind. What do you think of Nada? Her name means "generous one" which is a good omen."

"Nada? You mean the Mayor Shaza's daughter? That little girl?" Quatre exclaimed as he stopped in his tracks.

"Yes, the same Nada, only she's grown up like you. You were very fond of her when you were children."

She expected him to reply, so Quatre gave her a weak smile to match his marshmallow-weak legs. His knees threatened to melt out from under him as he tried to keep pace alongside her determined strides. His mind was processing the sights and smells and sounds of home and had not yet come to terms with the news.

Nada? The Shaza family had lived near their estate when he was a boy. Nada and her elder brother, Aden, were close to his age and status, so they played and partied together. Schooling was private with tutors so they'd never had school chums. Still, they had been good friends and Quatre had once been close to both of them.

When he was only fifteen, he had become a Gundam pilot. His colony attacked, his father injured, Quatre's last promise made before his father died, and Quatre had not seen any of his childhood friends since. Nada, he remembered, had been a nice girl: outgoing, obedient, and hard working. But he never thought about her in that way. I'm gay, for Allah's sake!

"Can you tell me why you bring up Nada's name?" Quatre asked as he jogged up to his eldest sister.

He found himself falling into more formal speech patterns without thinking, and smiled when he thought of Duo's visit to the estate years ago when he was recuperating from war injuries.

"Yanno how do you end up with a small fortune on L2?" Duo had asked at the dinner table.

Several of his sisters offered suggestions meant to be taken seriously. Duo had pretended to listen intently, but Quatre knew by his widening grin that he had a punch line ready. "Aw, c'mon! On L2! L2! All ya gotta do is start with a large one!"

Duo's laugh following that joke had been all over the place. He was small, but he filled the rooms with his noise and gregarious personality. Half his sisters loved him and the other half pretended not to be able to understand his L2 slang. They would all love Trowa's quiet manners, Quatre thought; that is, until they found out they were lovers. That saddened him enough to block off his own thoughts and look over, but it was too late. His sister was another empath and was examining his face.

"Don't look at me so tragically. I met Nada last year at a wedding. She has grown up and has become so beautiful. She's well mannered too. I talked to Mrs. Shaza yesterday and, like me, she believes that Nada and you would make a marvelous couple. Today we are going to their place to talk a bit," she told him.

"You finalized everything without asking me?" he asked, his voice rising to a shriek.

"My dear little brother, nothing is finalized! Only after Nada and you both consent, we will consider the marriage. It's just a proposal."

"And what if I don't agree to the proposal?"

"No marriage--yet. We'll look for another girl. But you have got to have a solid reason for saying no," she replied as Quatre scowled.

"I came because of my job with Winner Corps, not to get married."

"Filling your family obligations is part of your job," Qadira reminded him.

Chapter9

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