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"Greeting Cards"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: Yaoi, funeral practices, AU, fluff Pairings: 1+4, 1x2x1, 3+H, 5xH, 3x4, 6x9 Summary: Each chapter is based on Heero’s
greeting cards and Duo's mortuary. "Greeting Cards " Chapter 24 -- Note Cards, Part 5 (o) Trowa POV I wasn't sure what was wrong, but I knew from Quatre's creased brow that I'd caused it. It once slipped out that I remembered Quatre from some private school we attended. Nothing else about that time but him. No other classmates, no teacher, no class, and no embarrassing scene in a gym shower. I still think it's funny how clearly he came through the brain-scrim to be remembered, while my childhood had been eliminated. Yeah, right. He was pretty as a picture. I knew that he was terribly wealthy, from a prestigious family, and was constantly showered with attention from countless, appealing admirers of both sexes. I knew from way back, watching him in school, and later on from listening to Duo's stray comments, that he would be a high maintenance boyfriend to keep. I didn't have a ghost of a chance interesting him back then as a scrawny young teenager. Things had changed and now I did. I had time to devote to such a relationship, so I wasn't afraid of what I was getting into. What else better did I have to do than lavish Quatre Winner with attention? Nothing, was my opinion. His, too. And, here was the end of the play and I was ignoring him. Time to haul ass and track him down. Oh, I knew he knew how I felt about him. He could assess that by sensing my emotions, which he said he'd taught himself to avoid as much as possible, as most people resented invasions to their privacy. When I mentioned this at the coffee shop, it was Chang who took an interest. "Chi," he said (pronounced Chee). "He feels your chi. It is your internal energy, the subtle, responsive force that interacts as the intimate and profound link between, physical form, physical health, empowerment, attitude and emotions." Since he had everyone's undivided attention, Chang went on to say, formulating his dissertation as he went along, "Everything in creation is made up of electromagnetic energy vibrating at different frequencies that correspond to sound, light and color. The existence of electromagnetic fields around every object in the world, known as an aura, is a scientifically proven fact. The Chinese refer to this energy as 'Chi', the vital life force energyof the Universe, present within every living thing. The energy of Chi emits vibrant, bright colors (the aura), a vibrational frequency, and a sound. When Chi becomes disturbed, stagnant, imbalanced or depleted, disease and illness begin to take form - the aura becomes darker and discolored, personal frequency vibrates incorrectly, and the meridians (energy pathways - Chinese origin), within the body become blocked." He looked at me and then Quatre. "And that is what he reads." Maxwell supplied the auditory sound effects to Chang's lecture with buzzes and choking sounds and hums, which pissed off the cop-gone-agent and ended the exchange. I don't know if Duo actually believed in Quatre's special talent or not. He acted like it was all a big joke, which was okay by me because the Chang-man took everything way too seriously. And Quatre hadn't minded, either. Quatre seemed to appreciate Duo's brand of doofus behavior, but not enough to make me jealous. They hadn't gotten on in the sex department, so I was cool. It's all gold. So why had Quatre stormed out of the after-play festivities, I wondered, again? Again, but I was not obsessing over it. He hadn't stranded me. He'd left me the car to get home. I mean, he had to know my heart was his. I'd never given him any reason to mistrust me or think I messed around. So, the only thing I could come up with was that things were going sooooo well between us that in order to keep things interesting he manufactured his own competition for my attention—the fan girls. That, at least, was my breakdown of his head. I sure didn't need to invent rivals for his attention. Real enough ones were always there hovering at the edges, stopping by our table to say "hi", giving me the evil eye. He was usually polite, but, thank God, didn't flirt with them when he was with me. So, his storming off wasn't likely to be anything serious. Just something "fun" to get squared away. After I watched him make his quick retreat with Chang and Hilde, I broke free of the play's fans, and meandered out to my car. One quick call to Chang to be informed that, yes, Quatre was home, which was all I needed to set my mind at rest. That was a better state for my mind to be in than it had been a couple weeks ago, when I couldn't figure out enough of my past to know if I came from outer space and been dumped in a lab to grow up like a lab rat with assigned surrogate parents who checked out when I was old enough to be hurt by that and then sold to the circus where I was such a hit that I got paroled to college—or not. Take a deep breath. And there was my newly minted boyfriend torpedoing ahead on Mission Discovery--Trowa Barton's Past, wholly convinced we'd discover I had the pedigree of a prince with an inheritance simply awaiting my re-surfacing to claim. Yeah, things could be worse than having a pissy, pedigreed boyfriend lying-in-wait for me to come save him from his own boredom. I was so in for it. Poor me. (o) Quatre POV Trowa! Even before we started sleeping together, Trowa had always gone out of his way to find time for me. But not today. Sure, we'd acted and sung and danced together, but after the show, it was as if I, Quatre, was invisible. Trowa was practically drooling-- and over fangirls! Oh, I should forget it and just move on, I guess, but so many thoughts were troubling me. First I wasn't ready to accept that Trowa trading me in for a girl, because I was realistic, not a total idiot, and because Trowa and I had just gotten back from a wonderful week together. It wasn't even possible that Trowa could have gotten over me just like that. Certainly not because a bunch of girls had gone gah-gah over him. No, Trowa wasn't that superficial and I wasn't that superfluous. I wasn't superfluous at all, actually. So why was I here alone and he there at the party? Well, maybe there could be disturbing concerns over Trowa's behavior tickling at the edge of my mind. He had an arm around a girl. There, I said it. I'd never seen him do more than check our another guy, and that rarely, and then we both had and laughed about it. He had absolutely no memories of a past lover of any kind. He was attentive to me and me alone, up to tonight. So, should I, could I ever trust him to be true? I nearly gagged realizing what I had thought. The concept of "being true" was from some romance novel, wasn't it? Well, that wonderful week devoted to discovering Trowa's parentage could have been lifted straight out of a bodice- ripper, or, more appropriately, a codpiece-cleaver. Did that mean I was obsessed with romance? May. Be. Ever since that lovely declaration of his love and mine in return, I've had my head in a cloud. It was love as far as I was concerned. Was it the love of a lifetime? I could compare what I felt with what I detected from others around me, but it was all different. Trowa was serene blue with grey tones, which I think were indicative of where he was psychically damaged resulting in his memory loss. Wufei was a spiky green and Hilde was a sunburst. From Heero I was slammed with an ultra-violet intensity I avoided prying into. Totally opposite on the 'aura' spectrum, Duo was a pulsating infrared. I wondered briefly what attracted such paradoxical 'chi' to each other? Still, from them all I sensed intensity of feeling I characterized as 'love'. And I had it too. I was a rainbow. How gay was that? Now, if that little analytical study didn't suck the romance out of me, maybe reviewing my last quarter's class notes from marketing applications of integral calculus would. No, I couldn't do that to myself. This was my winter break and I was going to work on something besides my advanced degree. Instead, I thought about Trowa and our first trip to Nova in the L3 area. That had been rather exciting. Trowa had surprised me with his assertive behavior in bed, but we worked things out. I know I tended to be demanding. What was also exciting were his revelations about his family. We untangled everything he knew later, which was a real bonding experience, and I wrote up notes to summarize it all. First, there was the 'séance'. During the séance, Trowa recalled a woman called Leia, but then he couldn't remember why he did and that, in fact, he wasn't positive about the name, admitting that her name could have come to mind because Zechs had brought up her name at work. Trowa also told me about a girl who had died and come in for burial, and that her name, Mariemaia, was a familiar one. For some reason he thought her death should be a vital piece of some puzzle. Then there was the mysterious muttering, "the White Fang knife had been mine." That seemed to haunt him more than anything, and I understood why when he told me that he was talking about a knife found at a murder site. I called my lawyer-sister, Aria, that night to touch bases with her and make certain she could make time to represent him. If we determined he really did have a knife like that, the police would eventually, too, and he'd need help. It embarrasses me to admit, this, but what I didn't tell him was how relieved I was that he wasn't reliving fond memories of past lovers, male ones in particular. In light of his problems, even I knew it was totally indecent of me to be so ego-centric. Still, I did feel that way, and I'm not proud of it. Maybe that urged me to alter our trip plans a few weeks later and take him to Nova rather than the L4 dunes. I feel positive that I did the right thing for him. Just visiting Nova and seeing places he had been before triggered another surge of memories. And before we did left, his cousin Catherine paid him a visit and dumped a bombshell on him. Now we had a more complete picture of his childhood. Combining what she'd told him and what Trowa "remembered" during our trip to Nova, I knew that he had been born Tristan Bloom to his mother, Suzanne Medina, and father, Chas Bloom. He grew up in a laboratory, very lonely andwatched over by a Doctor happened to his parents, we assumed they died, and he was shipped off to live with his slightly older cousin in the circus. "Catherine, she's a cousin, but to me more of a sister. She was my best friend at the circus. She was the one who told me my parents had died and that's why I was sent to live with her in the circus. " "Death was the final and most absolute abandonment. Your parents must have cared deeply or they wouldn't have provided for you." "Catherine was a child, when you joined her in the circus, right? She couldn't have afforded to provide for you and the circus wouldn't have taken just anyone in, especially charity cases. That means along with you must have come a settlement. The circus folks must have been paid. And later you attended an expensive university, so they must have left you an inheritance to draw from." How he came to be in college was unknown, but they know that he was in a terrible accident, admitted under the name Trowa Barton. I felt bad for him, especially after he told me that he and I went to school together for a while and that I had ignored him. So I was determined to find out the truth about his past and help him heal. First, I contacted Catherine to satisfy myself that she was being honest about what she knew. She had been baffled by his name change after the accident, but because he couldn't remember anything, she never pressed him to tell her why he'd changed it. It never occurred to her until Sally Po found the hidden records that someone other than him had made the change on purpose, possibly to hide him. What's worse, now it seemed that his accident may have been intentional; at least, she and I agreed it might be. "I don't know whether I wish his memory to be complete or save him from some awful fate should he remember something terrible," she had said. "Well, I promised him I'd help him heal completely. And to help jigger his memories, I offered to take Trowa back to L3 and visit all the circus camps which had been around six years ago." "And did he want to do that?" "Yes, desperately." "In that case, I can help you narrow down the choices to the one we lived and worked at to one, and give you the directions." I liked her immensely after that and I think she liked me just as much. I told her we'd become good friends because we both had Trowa's best interest as primary goals. I knew then what we had to do next. Of course. Everything would be fine, I just knew it. There was something mysterious going on that involved Zechs and possibly Heero, but as far as Trowa's personal history was concerned, I wasn't the least bit worried about what we'd find. It was just a matter of following a few leads and we'd have all the information we needed. Trowa would have his answers and his fragmented memory would all fall into place. He seemed as excited as I, although, he covered it up so as not to pressure me to make everything a success. Silly boy. It was time to put the considerable resources my prestigious family name had to work for me. If there was anything I could do for him, it would be to follow the money trail to his inheritance. It was wonderful having a purpose! (o) Trowa's POV As much as I wanted to know about myself, learn what most other people took for granted, peel back that curtain in my brain, I was scared of what my memories would turn up. Why did my parents abandon me to grow up in a lab? What horrible thing was wrong with me that they would leave me to be raised by some kook and that someone later would try to kill me? And when I got my answers, would Quatre want to have anything to do with me anymore? That last question was the more painful. His depth of caring and devotion, so far, to the miserable wretch that I was, would be unbearable to lose. Not that for a moment I thought I could possibly thwart the Will of a Winner in full mission mode, but I considered dropping all further investigation, leaving what I knew untested and looking no further. My past was already gone, now I recklessly wanted to hold on to the dream of a future. I mean, at this point Quatre and I had some things in common, like he had been born in a laboratory, we had attended the same school at one time, and now we shared friends. And we were in love. Love didn't blind me from recognizing his strengths and imperfections, though. I was fully aware of Quatre Raberba Winner's privileged, upper-class background, and I had picked up on the fact that sometimes he was a little shallow. Quatre had mentioned on more than one occasion that a person's background was important. I often wondered if Quatre hadn't lost interest in Duo after discovering Duo's street rat roots. No telling and it wouldn't have surprised me. Making a full disclosure and exposing my deepest darkest fears here, I was terrified that my background would fail to measure up. This hadn't become much an issue while I had no visible past, but how would he feel about me if he found out I came from a shit poor family or criminals or lunatics? Would that alienate him? Damn. Just thinking about was alienating me from that me. But despite all that, Quatre was firmly in the driver's seat, heading to L3 on a mission to 'fix' my problem, as if by uncovering my roots, then everything would suddenly be all rosy. Honestly, his enthusiasm for the whole project was freaking me out. And despite my lack of trust in his intuition and my lack of enthusiasm, he came through for me. The day of our leaving he purred up to my place looking like he was collecting me for a wild game on the golf links. He was about to suggest we drive to L3 in his slick, sexy, little sports car again, but I nixed that. "L3 ain't L4 in winter, Quatre. Nova is at the 4000 foot level. There's likely to be feet of snow already and chains required." "Oh." He stuffed a hand in his pocket and turned away, wearing a tiny frown of disappointment. Guess I stuck a wrench in the works. I hated to let him down or totally spoil all his plans, but on the bright side maybe he'd cancel the trip. I could be talked into hitting those dunes to the south of L4. But, no. There was no stopping my driven boyfriend. He burned up the cell phone airwaves for a few minutes and then returned, glowing with achievement. "We have alternate transportation arranged. All we have to do is stop by the corporate garage." Oh joy. My little maniac was just hell-bent on doing this... thing. "That's...great, Quatre." We traveled to the circus, in a Winner Corporation all-terrain vehicle, a surprise for me, but not the last. Not at all. My little maniac (This was my new pet name for him after meeting a few of the imposing henchmen protecting the Winner family members, over at the garage. The Maganac Corps was a forty-man private army led by a towering man, Rasid Kurama, who I would not want to antagonize. Since I couldn't spit out "Maganac", but I could "maniac," "maniac" my lover became.) had been busy behind the scenes. I drove the behemoth. Quatre had no experience with foul weather driving and I had. He didn't even fight me about it, which proves something. 'Nuff said. That was the last definitive action I think I took that day. Once we arrived at the circus, which he seemed to know the route to like the back of his hand even though he swore he'd never been there before, he took over. I tried out another affectionate name on him. "My queen bee." He gave me a venom-laced glance and declared, "I hate that particular name and would be pleased if the words never passed your lips again." I was practically unmanned. "Okay." My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. All I wanted to do was kiss his feet and hope he forgave me. I didn't, of course, but that's how I felt for about a millisecond. Then he grinned. "Just testing out my mean streak. How did I do?" "Real good." Too good. Jesus! He could be deadly scary. He must have trained with the swarthy-looking maniacs. "Super! Let's go see this circus manager and get him to spill." Better the circus man than me. "Okay." When information was not forthcoming, Quatre tapped that "mean streak" of his again and revealed the circus ownership papers with his name prominently displayed. How the hell--? I'd have to drill him about that little detail later, well, ask him. Politely. "Either you tell us what we want to know, or I'll replace you with a manager who can be upfront and honest with me." Quatre had on his business face with the "don't fool with me" attitude. The circus manager folded. Literally. To the ground, reducing himself from a high rolling "baller" to a loser with no balls. Poor schmuck. He kowtowed for several minutes, until Quatre begged him to sit in the chair and talk. When the man finally had himself under control he coughed up everything he knew. He had a problem looking me in the eye and deciding who he owed an apology to, his new "boss" or the afflicted, me, so he came off shifty-eyed. "A boy, Triton Bloom, was delivered to us by a Doctor S, full name undetermined. I was told that his, ah, your parents had died accidently on Zodiac island when an experiment exploded. That's all I was told. Everything!" "And you just took him in? Is that common practice?" Quatre seemed to have the conversation in hand. He had the man squirming, so I let him do the talking. "Well, I received a meager compensation for his expenses." I'll bet you did. "And his closest living relative was a part of our circus. That was Catherine Bloom." "How about his clothes, financial support, personal belongings?" "Oh, there was a little luggage with a few things, clothes, yes. And a knife." The man's eyes slid to me for reassurance, I guess. "Rather strange thing, I thought at the time, for a child. I assumed it was a keepsake from his father and it remained in his possession the duration of his stay." "Are you sure?" The way Inquisitioner Quatre said that made me unsure of my eye color and made his victim's puffy face blanch to match his shirt. If this went on much longer, I was afraid he'd have a heart attack. "Oh, yes. He was trained for a knife throwing act first thing. I often saw him practicing with his own knife, but it was large and poorly balanced, inappropriate for a circus act. If you don't believe me, you can ask Belle. She'd remember." "Or Catherine." I put in that, a lifeline to the man who'd given me a home and job under what had to have been duress. Never a father figure, he had never treated me cruelly. "Yes!" The man smiled for the first time since Quatre showed him those ownership papers and his color improved. I'd saved his life, so now we were even. "Yes, your cousin, lovely girl. I think I have a number where she might be reached." "That won't be necessary," Quatre said, standing. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look around and question a few of your employees." Although he look like he minded a lot, the manager simply shook his head and wished us "good luck in our findings." After leaving his trailer-office, Quatre snapped at me. "Why did you do that?" "Do what?" Play dumb and I might come out of this alive. "Relieve the tension. I had him in the palm of my hands." "You had him by the balls and his heart was about to stop." I reached for his hand, cold in the chilly air. "I didn't want his death on my conscience." "Oh!" His demeanor changed completely, the toughness draining from his body and his wide-eyed innocence shining through his eyes again. "I was so into what I was doing, I didn't notice. Was I that bad?" "You were that good." "I'm so glad you are there beside me in all this," he said. "Well, it is my life we're investigating." It was good to remind him of that, too. "Yes, it is. Let's hurry and find out if there's anyone else with information!" "'K." Quatre and I interviewed everyone I recognized from the old days and got much the same answers. The description of the knife fit the one found at the murder scene. My nightmares were coming true. I didn't want to talk about the knife or anything else on our drive to our resort hotel, where we would check in and stay for the duration of the week, undisturbed, I had hoped. I had something else to bring up. "You bought a circus?" "Not exactly, but I have the controlling interest in it." "Winner Corporation bought a circus?" "A subsidiary in the entertainment business did, yes." "A subsidiary." "Blooming Fun." "Bloom--?" "Catherine and I had a nice chat and I discovered her hidden potential. I think she'll do a marvelous job overseeing the business." "But she's never been to college. Even you are still studying business stuff. How can she run a business?" "She did a very capable job as the circus bookkeeper and knows the business better than anyone else I could find. Besides, she's got determination and drive. I just know she'll do a fine job." Damn, I couldn't fight about this, not if Catherine was a benefactor. "Like you just know everything will work out for me?" "Not exactly. I'm not a fortune-teller; however, I get these positive vibes about things. I can't explain." "How about tonight?" "Tonight?" "I've got good vibes about tonight. You, me, and our own private room." It turned out to be a very good night, marred by only two things. The first was a call from Zechs with some piece of information Quatre needed. In the end, this led to us locating my inheritance, but at the time the interruption made me lose my top advantage when I had to stretch across the bed to answer the phone. And I didn't have the strength later to get it back. Well, fuck me. The second unfortunate incident occurred sometime after we'd enjoyed the most mind-blowing sex of all time. We'd showered and slipped between the sheets for the second time that night, this time to sleep. "Sweet dreams, Trowa." "'Nite, Quatre." I was right; it was night. He was wrong; I had turbulent dreams, in which a White Fang blade played a major role. I woke up with a cry, sweating buckets, and then new memories played out like an old movie reel: I was Triton Bloom, meeting a woman, named Leia Barton, from the OZ Asylum hospital where she was a volunteer nurse. The circus was shut down for rest and repairs in its winter camp. I was doing high school work-study at Voyate Laboratories, and was a delivery boy with some supplies to drop. Leia sought me out, actually, after learning that she had a younger stepbrother. Me, being listed as the adopted son of Dekim Barton, was that person. Awakened by my outcry, Quatre wouldn't rest until I told him everything, after which he said, "We'll have to get the rest of the story from Zechs Merquise, because this is becoming too complex not to be part of that man's problems. Trowa, that account, your inheritance, came from a benefactor, Dekim Barton, and Zechs knew enough to discover that for us." My past was not looking so good to me right now, but Quatre thought I was something near-heroic for surviving everything. We agreed not to pursue anything else but the money for the rest of the week. I taught him to ski, and he showed me how I could bottom from the top on his lap in an outdoor mineral hot springs while it snowed. It had been a week of memories, most of them good. And now the play was over and Quatre needed coddling. High maintenance or not, he was worth it to me. Because he believed in me and loved me. And it was a substantial amount of money. And it was mine. It still hasn't sunk in completely. (o) Quatre POV My musings were interrupted by an insistent knock on the apartment door. "Who's there?" "Quatre, its Trowa. Can I come in?" I opened the door. He looked so... dead. "Trowa? I thought I left you back at the theater." I had meant to sound harsh, but I know there was also a detectable tone of relief present as a smile spread to my face. Drat! I hadn't wanted that smile to appear just yet. "You did, but when..." He paused to alter his wording, "...I couldn't find you, I left, too." That said, Trowa wasted no time playing hard-to-get games. He took me in his arms and kissed me possessively, a hand buried in my hair as the other clasped me firmly to his chest. How could I let on how jealous he'd made me? Of a girl! That would have been too embarrassing. I returned his kiss, then wiggled back to look at him, my ghastly, but hunky, Trowa, and thought he never looked so good to me before, appalling makeup and all. "I can tell. It was stuffy inside that hall and wet, and I needed fresh air." "And Wufei brought you home, I suppose?" Trowa pushed, and peered over my shoulder possibly to check if the man was in the room. "Him? Yes, he is probably taking Hilde home now," I said easily. "Hey, you know, I've never kissed a zombie before." "Ah, the makeup." Trowa touched his face and smeared his macabre cosmetics. The tension eased from his jaw and he smiled, relieved to know all was well with us, I'm sure. "I didn't even stay to take it off and clean up." His answer pleased me, so I smiled brightly, lifting and the cloud of doubt between us. "Would you like to use my shower?" "Okay, that would be nice. You haven't washed yet. Care to join me?" There was a glint in his eye. "No, you go ahead." I wasn't in the mood for sex quite yet, and laughed. "Not this time. It'd take too long and I want my own turn and then go out to eat. I'm starving!" "Uh, huh..." Trowa didn't buy all that evasiveness. He was stronger, bigger, and determined. He had me in the shower, scrubbed clean, in a fraction of the time it would have taken me to lay out my things, choose the perfect soap, adjust the temperature until it was just so... As passionate a person as I was, I was still too inhibited to enjoy sex to the fullest. But, I'm a quick study and he a knowledgeable teacher. I learned to anticipate his climax by slowing my movements and drawing out the moment for him. I grew more responsive under his hands, and knew with confidence that the best for us was yet to come. My reward was his wide-eyed look of astonishment moments before he cried out my name in delirium and collapsed, panting, boneless against the tile wall. And when his eyes reopened, he candidly exposed his heart. There was no secretiveness or cunning or artful pretending -- just affection, raw and honest, for me. I could feel it. I wanted to deserve him, and so I decided to devote myself his cause. I would become the man Trowa deserved. He was an orphan, but of good family, and with money of his own. Not that money made the man. I believed men made the money and made the money work for them. There had been a time when I nearly offered him the funds to buy into Maxwell's Mortuary, his share. Luckily, a little birdie shoved a peanut in my brain, which grew into a better idea, stopping me from carrying out that foolish deed. And now that he has that nice little inheritance, he can buy his partnership. He's so excited and proud, in that laid-back, quiet sort of way of his. He had found himself and now it was time for me to do the same.
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