by Ashura
Quatre had come to the conclusion he would never be entirely comfortable with his lover's employment. It was one thing, risking life and limb in defense of peace, the earth, and the colonies. It was another to stand against a wall and let someone throw knives at you, and no matter how much Trowa trusted Catherine, Quatre was never going to relax when he watched it.
So, to the great amusement of the six-year-old sitting next to him on the bleachers, he kept his eyes closed through most of the act.
He opened them to the sounds of cheering, and, comforted by the fact that Catherine's aim had once again proved true, let the crowd carry him out of the circus tent til he could make his way past the sideshow and search out his lover. The lion cages were usually a solid bet--since the creatures preferred Trowa to any other two-legged being, he was usually the one to feed them. Quatre hovered there, just out of reach of any stray teeth or paws, until he spotted a familiar tall figure in the crowd.
"Trowa!" he called, rewarded by the widening of wood-green eyes as his lover hurried to reach him.
"Quatre?" The brilliance of Trowa's smile dissolved any doubts the blonde boy might still have harboured about coming to find him, though concern quickly replaced it. "Are you all right? Is something wrong?"
Quatre shook his head. "Everything's fine. Well, mostly fine. I want to talk to you about something, later." Trying to reassure Trowa that there was no immediate emergency without diminishing the significance of what he did need--that was the trick, and he was too keyed up to be delicate. "I just needed to see you."
The lions were forced to wait several more moments for their meal as Trowa pulled him close and kissed him eager hello. "I'm glad you did," he said simply, and Quatre wondered how it was possible that any one person's presence should be able to calm him so thoroughly.
"What do you want to do while you're here?" Trowa asked, later, when the lions had been fed and the pair walked, hand in hand, toward the small trailer he shared with Catherine. "A bunch of the performers are having a get-together later, if you want to go." He grinned almost shyly. "It'll probably be very loud and they'll all be drunk, but they're good people. Or we can hide out in the trailer together--you said you wanted to talk about something? Or find something else to do, just the two of us."
Quatre's mind began calculating the pros and cons of each option. He did want to explain the situation with Relena to Trowa, but he couldn't deny the temptation of indulging in something the two of them had never had frequently--a real date. "What would you like to do, Trowa?"
The taller boy laughed, squeezing his hand tenderly. "I'm just really glad you're here. I promise I'll be ecstatic no matter how we waste the rest of our night." His bright smile turned wicked, and he added lightly, "especially if you end up in my bed at the end of it!"
Once, Quatre might have blushed at that, now he only feigned indignance. "I certainly didn't intend to sleep on the floor," he said haughtily. "The only question is, where will you sleep?"
"Imp," said Trowa, and stopped right in the middle of walking to pull him close and kiss him again.
In the end it was decided--the pair of them would hole up in the trailer while Quatre said his piece, then they'd go track down the rest of the performers. Trowa assured Quatre that the festivities wouldn't really start until well after dark anyway, when everyone would be well and drunk. Catherine, after saying hello to Quatre, had discreetly volunteered to go into town and leave them to their own devices for the evening. Trailers were not made for privacy; only the illusion of it.
"So," Trowa finally began, setting the kettle on for tea and curling himself around Quatre on the faded, battered sofa, "what's on your mind, oh love of my life?"
Quatre leaned back against him, nestling into the hollow of his lover's neck, pausing to revel in the rhythmic pulse of the heartbeat against his back, and then began to explain. Trowa listened silently--he was always good at listening, his arms wrapped comfortably around Quatre's chest until it became imperative to get up and turn off the teakettle.
"So," Trowa summarised, as Quatre watched the honey drip in a long gooey line from the spoon into his cup, "Relena is your half-sister. Your mother had her, disappeared to L4, married your father--we assume--and had you, and the two of you would just like to figure out why."
"It sounds simple when you put it like that," Quatre pouted, finally giving up and stirring the honey into the tea. "But yes, that's essentially all. We--we already decided we can't make it public, but I needed to see what you thought, Trowa. I need you to put my head back on straight."
Trowa leaned close, his fingers stroking Quatre's chin, eyeing him appraisingly. "I think your head's on just fine," he declared after a moment, and Quatre stuck out his tongue. "Well, I do. You've already got your course of action planned, and I think you've dealt with it very well. Both of you. It has to be a bit of a shock."
"What does?" Catherine called cheerfully, poking her head in the door.
"Finding out you have a sister you didn't know about," Trowa answered, deadpan, and Catherine rolled her eyes.
"Right. Just wanted to let you know I'm going to the party. I'll see you both there later, right?" Her grey eyes narrowed, twinkling merrily. "Or should I just plan to stay away as long as the trailer's rocking? I'll be too drunk to notice when I stagger back in, I promise."
"Then you might see us," Trowa countered. "Who knows? If we're late you might see four of us...or six..."
Catherine made a noise suspiciously like a grunt and vanished, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Quatre left off stirring the tea and sought out Trowa's arms again. "Will you help me look for the answers?" he asked, as if the conversation had never been interrupted.
Trowa's lips brushed against his hair. "Of course I will...you know love, it's a bit exciting, really. You've got a mystery in the family. It's like living in a trashy novel."
Quatre brightened. "That's true...it is a bit, isn't it? How does it end then? I've never really sat down and read one."
Trowa made a face. "You're not missing out on much. Cathy loves them. Because they're always guaranteed a happy ending."
Relena had never really noticed Peygan looking old before. He'd simply always been there, ageless and eternal, offering her advice she didn't follow and comfort she'd never earned. Now he huddled in an oversized armchair pulled up close to the fire, dozing comfortably with a book lying open across his knee.
"Peygan?" she asked, breaking a silence dominated by the crackling of sparks in the fireplace, kneeling close to his chair on the hearth. "Can I ask you something?"
"Relena, child," he replied gently, the opening of his eyes his only movement, "when have you ever not?"
She smiled ruefully at that, nodding. "You're right. I'll just come out with it then. Peygan--do you remember my mother?"
His gaze, so dreamy and vacant only a moment before, darkened into acute alertness. "Of course, child, but what about her do you want me to remember?"
And Relena, who had composed and performed speeches that could make grown men applaud and put the world itself in tears, blurted out, "Why did she leave?"
Peygan looked startled, and he sighed, his fingers dropping to stroke gently through her hair. "Now, how did you find out about that?"
Relena's eyes fixed on her hands, twisting around each other in her lap. "Quatre looks like her. More than I do." Pleading, her gaze lifted, meeting his kind blue eyes. "We need answers. I was tiny. Why did she leave me? What are the missing pieces of thiis puzzle we've stumbled on?"
The hand dropped from her hair. "Relena, I wish there was more I could tell you." Peygan shook his head sadly, resting back into the depths of the chair. "Katrina was fleeing the Sanq kingdom, but I don't know why. Whatever made her leave, she never confided in me...and neither did your father. He was hurt, I think, but he told me nothing about it. Then...it was less than a year, when we heard she was dead."
"Childbirth," Relena finished quietly.
Peygan shook his head, his voice sad. "No. We here were told only that she had been sick...not what the true cause of her death was."
"But you knew?"
Again, that faint shake of silvered head. "No. I had suspicions, but only after I met Quatre Winner two years ago. The likeness, as you say, is remarkable. It made me wonder, but you've only just confirmed it for me now."
Relena sighed, resting her head against his knee, twisting a strand of honey hair through her fingers. "I used to think I didn't want to know anything about them," she began softly. "I was so angry with them for abandoning me, for giving me away--but it was the best they knew to do, wasn't it? The Sanq kingdom was falling apart before the war ever destroyed it."
Peygan nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so."
Quatre stirred into reluctant wakefulness, squeezing his eyes closed against the frenetic whirling of the room. Was it supposed to move like that? Sure, he knew the colonies orbited the earth, but they didn't rotate per se, so why were the walls spinning?
He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. Some detached, mildly amused part of his brain--the part that had woken him up in the first place--noted that it was a blue blanket, frayed at the edges and near worn through, and that he wasn't in his own bed with its fluffy Eiderdown and feather pillows, but rather a narrow, badly beaten-up trailer bed with robots dancing around on the sheets. They were dancing a little too wildly for Quatre's taste, and he closed his eyes again.
As he adjusted on the small mattress, trying to evade the shreds of light that spilled insistently through the worn spots in the blanket, his hand brushed against--skin. Bare skin, that conscious part decided, most likely someone's leg.
One eye cracked open, just enough to peek. Yep, a leg all right. Two of them, in fact, connected to a pair of smiley-face boxer shorts, and a bare smooth chest, a couple of wiry arms, and a mop of very messy dark brown hair that covered a sleeping face.
Aha, thought that little conscious part of Quatre's brain, quite pleased with its own cleverness. This must be Trowa's bed. He liked Trowa's bed. Pity, really, that he couldn't remember how he ended up there. His mind twisted itself into little knots, trying to recall the previous night's activity. Just in case there ended up being a quiz on it today...or in case somebody mentioned it...or if he'd done something really embarrassing. It's never a good sign when one can't remember how they got into bed.
He did recall, however vaguely, being called to judge a contest involving drunk people taking clothes off while balancing on the high wire. He was fairly certain Catherine had been among them, though he couldn't remember if Trowa had or not. He was reasonably certain there had been no casualties. He remembered a girl with purple hair giving him something bright red to drink--or was the hair red and the drink purple? He wasn't quite sure--that tasted sweet, like several kinds of berries, and made his insides feel wonderfully fuzzy.
He stopped thinking quite abruptly when the telephone rang. No, it didn't ring. It screeched at the top of its electronic lungs like a vengeful, dying demon. Quatre squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. Trowa jolted awake next to him, whimpering under his breath as he disentangled himself from the sheets and crawled out of bed.
Quatre just wanted the horrible noise to stop. He'd never heard a phone ring so loudly in his entire life. Come to think of it, entire Oz bases, mobile suits, and towns had blown up with considerably less racket.
"Quatre...." The blanket peeled away, Trowa's fingers stroking down his face. That was pleasant, at least. "Wake up, love, Relena's on for you."
Quatre turned his face into the pillow. There, now he was invisible. "Mmffl. Lllgbbn."
Trowa chuckled, softly enough that it didn't cause too much pain. "I'll take a message, love, but stay awake for a few minutes and I'll find you some aspirin. You're going to need it." The normally-silent padding of his bare feet across the floor echoed in Quatre's ears, eliciting another moan. Aspirin, yes. That was a good plan. He managed to convince his skull to relax, and by the time he'd accomplished this remarkable feat, Trowa was sitting on the edge of the bed holding out a glass of water and two small pills. "Here. Drink all the water, it'll make it go away faster."
Quatre swallowed obediently, trying not to let the water dribble down his chin. "What did Lena want?"
"To talk to you. She's on L2 with Duo, they're following up some leads on their own and waiting for Heero to get back. She talked to Peygan, but she said she'll wait and tell you when you're feeling better."
Quatre winced. "Did you tell her...?"
"That you're hung over?" A ghost of a smile tickled Trowa's lips. "Of course. Was it supposed to be a secret?"
Quatre groaned, thrusting the empty glass into his lover's hands and snuggling into the blankets again. "Great," he grumbled, a faint and weary attempt at a joke. "I had a reputation, once...now it's all blown to shreds because I got drunk at a circus party."
"Don't worry," Trowa offered comfortingly. "You're a very cute drunk. And most of the rest of them won't remember either. Even if they do, they all love you to death. You'll be closer to them for the ordeal."
Quatre couldn't help but notice the wicked gleam in Trowa's green eyes, and pulled the blanket over his head. "Next time you share gossip about me, Trowa, I'm telling Heero you have robot sheets."
Trowa leaned close and kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, Quatre."
Quatre, despite the vague, numb feeling in his arms and the fact that he couldn't keep his eyes open, made a wild grab to pull Trowa down with him. "Not sleep...c'with me..."
Trowa, being a kind soul, didn't actually laugh out loud. "Later, little one, I have plans for you. Right now you need to sleep this off."
"Aw...awright..." Quatre, disappointed, nuzzled into the pillow as Catherine stuck her head through the curtain that separated Trowa's room from hers. Her frazzled auburn curls formed a disheveled halo around her pale face, and bloodshot eyes narrowed against the light.
"Stop makin' so much goddamn noise," she grumbled irritably. "By all that's holy, Trowa, just because you didn't drink...let the rest of us suffer in peace, will ya?"
Trowa gave a much-belaboured sigh, pulling on his jeans. "All right, all right. I'm not wanted. I'll go for a walk. Maybe when I come back there'll be humans in this trailer again."
Catherine growled.
"Or not," Trowa said cheerfully, kissing them each once and vanishing out the door.
It was a meeting of the best and brightest, of war heroes and world leaders. And it was taking place in Relena Darlien's basement. The Vice Foreign Minister herself perched cross-legged atop a table, twining a strand of honey hair around her fingers. In front of her, Duo had turned a chair backwards and sprawled across it, leaning folded arms across its back. Heero, Quatre and Catherine had scattered themselves about the room, and Trowa leaned against one wall in what had long become known as his favourite 'thinking pose.'
"Right." Heero popped open his computer and switched it on, drumming his fingers impatiently on the casing as he waited for it to load. "Anybody have information for the group before I show you what I found?"
Duo, Trowa and Cathy shook their heads. Relena and Quatre looked at each other and shrugged.
"Well...neither my brother nor Miss Noin knows anything," Relena offered. "They were both too young. Peygan said she was running from something going on in the Sanq Kingdom, but it was never made public." She sighed, resting her chin in her hand. "Sorry. Not much to go on, there, I know. I was thinking I could go back to the--to the Peacecraft mansion, where I found the picture. Maybe there would be something--letters, maybe. Journals. Records."
Heero nodded. He took his role as organiser of this mission quite seriously. "That's a good idea. Quatre?"
The blonde boy shook his head. "I asked Iria, but she was on Earth at the time. They only had one conversation. Most of my sisters didn't even know her...we're not exactly the closest family in space."
Heero nodded again. "Nobody does. They kept it out of the press, too. I've been searching for three days and this is the only thing I found." As his computer finally ceased whirring, he tapped a few buttons and words scrolled across the screen. "Here--this was published on page 16 of section D of the Sanq capital's newspaper. 'Her royal majesty, Queen Katrina, is planning a sabbatical following complications in the birth of her daughter the Princess. The Queen will be staying in the space colonies, as a guest of longtime friends of her late brother.'"
He finished, and passed the computer to Quatre to read. "That's it. It took me so long to find this, I haven't had a chance to look up information on the brother yet. I'll do that next."
"So we split up into teams?" Duo suggested, taking the computer from Quatre and passing it up to Relena. "Say...Trowa goes with Relena and Quatre to search the castle, and Heero, Cathy and I can hit the libraries and see what we can dig up there."
A low murmur of conversation finally ratified and confirmed the plan. "Right. Then you three get going...it's a long drive back to the mansion, you know. The rest of us...Heero, you said you're on the brother?"
Heero arched an eyebrow at Duo's sudden takeover of the mission plans, but nodded. "Hai."
Duo just grinned at him, the way only Duo could. "Great. And since you're a one-man-army all by yourself, even when it comes to hacking, that leaves me and Cathy to hunt through whatever was going on in the court at the time and see what she was running from."
Heero, in the midst of typing, paused and looked up. "You and Catherine are in charge of analysing court life?"
"Now, now..." Catherine grinned, easing out of her chair and leaning over his shoulder to see what he was typing. Heero tolerated it remarkably well, being himself. "Just because we're of the common stock ourselves doesn't mean we can't read, Heero."
"Looks like they're off to a great start already," Trowa murmured, as Relena ushered him and Quatre out the door. "I suppose I'm driving?"
"Please?" Quatre asked hopefully. "We want to get there fast."
Relena made a face. "Actually I'd like to get their in one piece...I've seen you drive..." She shrugged, then, an exaggerated motion that matched the twinkle in her eyes. "Oh well. I suppose courting death once more can't hurt. Let's get going."
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