By Midii Une
Piercing
shrieks of outrage and despair shattered the silent December night and echoed
off the walls of the small, cozy bedroom.
Suddenly the cries were cut off with startling suddenness and peace
reigned once more.
Trowa
moved restlessly, burying his head further beneath the pillow and flinging his
arm over a rapidly cooling warm hollow in the bed where Midii was supposed to
be. Syrupy-sweet crooning noises
followed him into his hiding place and initiated a familiar sequence of guilt,
responsibility and resigned suffering.
Dutifully he slipped out of bed to investigate, wincing as his bare feet
hit the slick and icy-cold wood floor.
In the nursery Midii’s face was bent low over the small intruder who clutched a handful of her silky hair in his tiny, chubby fist. Tiny, because he was only three months old. Chubby because he ate constantly.
“Time’s
it,” Trowa muttered sleepily, dragging a tired hand over his face and peering
at the dim glow of the numbers on the small digital clock on the dresser.
“Oh
dear! We didn’t mean to disturb darling Papa did we Sweetie? You just needed Mama that’s all,” Midii
said, her voice tinged with concern and sympathy but she never lifted her eyes
from the little face that captured her adoring gaze to spare a glance at
‘darling Papa.’
Trowa
yawned and leaned against the wall, it seemed he spent more time there than in
bed lately. He watched Midii feed the
baby in the soft light of the small clown-shaped night-light that had been a
gift from ‘darling Auntie Cathy.’
Midii’s hair moved softly with the motion of the rocking chair (a gift
from ‘darling Uncle Quatre and Auntie Dorothy’) and her flannel nightgown was
unbuttoned low and he couldn’t help but envy the greedy little boy sucking away
at her breast and making soft little sounds of contentment. She yawned and leaned her head back against
the chair tiredly, a blissful smile of pure happiness setting her face aglow. She peered at Trowa beneath her lashes as
she felt his fingers smoothly caressing her cheek.
“Sorry
he woke you up. Guess I wasn’t fast
enough,” she said, a crooked little frown replacing the happy smile.
“I
don’t mind,” Trowa said, it was only a small fib. Maybe once the baby was back in bed, now that they were both
awake, she would have some time for him?
For
awhile it seemed the little boy would never go back to sleep, he stared
suspiciously at his father, favoring him with a creditable imitation of one of
‘darling’ Uncle Heero’s death glares before finally giving in and cruising off
to dreamland. Midii tucked the baby in
carefully, she was so tired, bed beckoned like some far off heaven and the
tantalizing promise of two, possibly three, hours of uninterrupted sleep seemed
like an unattainable dream.
She
gasped and settled herself comfortably in Trowa’s arms as he whisked her up in
the type of romantic gesture she had used to love just a few months before and
she laid her head sleepily on his shoulder.
Even the baby looked good to him right now, a perfectly angelic child,
rosy-cheeked and sleeping peacefully as he took a final peek in the crib. Midii was still Midii, even if her face was
always drawn by exhaustion and she was constantly accompanied by the smell of
sour milk and baby wipes. He nuzzled
the warm skin of her neck beneath her hair and laid her carefully on the
bed. Trowa fumbled in the dresser
drawer for a match to light some candles.
He loved the shine in her eyes when she told him she loved him, when he
held her close in his arms. It had been
so long.
“Mmm,”
Midii sighed as he crawled into bed with her, cradling her against his body and
lifting her hair to kiss the back of her neck.
Alone at last, Trowa thought, as she lay still and waiting as he kissed
the places that never failed to get her hot and bothered. Trowa lifted his head to look into her eyes,
to see the devotion and the special warmth that had always been there just for
him.
But
her eyes were closed and as he watched she turned sleepily over on her side,
pulled the pillow close in her arms and fell quickly asleep.
Trowa
pulled his own pillow over his face, he wanted to shout his frustration but he
knew better than that. It would never
do to wake the baby now, there would be hell to pay . . . even as the
treacherous thoughts filtered through his consciousness he heard the ominous
and unmistakable rustling of blankets and soft snuffles and whimpers. His son’s radar, as sensitive as the system
once installed on his father’s Gundam, had detected that Mommy had been a traitor
and left him alone his room to catch a few hours of sleep.
Trowa
took Midii’s place in the rocking chair and held the warm little body close in
his arms, the baby stared back, owl-eyed.
He rubbed his little face against his father’s soft old t-shirt and
opened his mouth wide for a howl, but Trowa’s smell and his soft voice humming
a tuneless but strangely soothing melody were familiar and comforting. The howl
became a tired yawn and he nuzzled closer.
The
little guy wasn’t so bad Trowa thought, drowsily, the special magic of a sleepy
baby working its spell on him. He could
picture himself teaching his son how to make paper airplanes and eventually
even how to fly a shuttle. He leaned
down to whisper a compromise. “We’ll
get along fine if you just learn to share,” he said. “You know I love Mommy a lot too.” He looked down into the tiny face expecting to see a glint of
understanding in the emerald eyes that mirrored his own but like his mother
before him, the baby, having gained the attention he felt he so deserved, had
fallen fast asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty
please with warm cinnamon apple topping?”
“.
. .”
Hilde
plastered a pleading smile on her face and wriggled against Duo’s hard, warm
body beneath the cozy fleece throw in an attempt to tempt him toward
indiscretion. Her sea-blue eyes glowed
in the firelight as fluffy snowflakes fell slowly and gracefully against the
deep black sky beyond the window. The
Christmas lights on the tree sparkled cheerfully in the dim room as she plucked
the foil-wrapped package from Duo’s hand.
He
groaned and grabbed for the small, slim object but she held it away from him.
“I’m
serious Duo! I want a baby,” she pouted, clutching the little square to her
chest protectively.
Duo
grinned and shook his head.
“No
glove, no love babe,” he chortled, letting his fingers trail seductively down
her bare arm and suddenly snatching the contraceptive from her hand.
Her
eyes shone oddly, brighter than usual in the warm glow of the cozy little
living room. Her lower lip thrust out
mutinously as she bolted from beneath the blanket and out of his arms
permitting him a quick glimpse of her slender white body before she disappeared
behind the bedroom door, which slammed behind her with an ominous thud.
Duo
held out stubbornly for at least 5 minutes before he sighed deeply in
resignation and lowered his feet over the edge of the sagging old sofa. The bare wood floor beneath his feet was
cold and he moved fast, wrapping the blanket around his waist and covering the
essentials. He tapped on the door.
“Hilde. Hiiiillldeeeeeee,” he crooned, smirking in
satisfaction as he heard the sound of his wife blowing her nose loudly and the
light sound of her footsteps.
He
leaned forward hoping to land a kiss on her trembling lips but barely caught a
glimpse of angry, red-rimmed eyes as she opened the door a crack and thrust his
pillow out the door at him before slamming it shut again.
“Fine!
Be that way,” Duo scolded at the locked door.
“But we are not ready for children.
I just wanna live a little first!”
Neither
the door, nor Hilde Maxwell answered and Duo did a little uncomfortable dance
as he stood there lost in indecision. This had been going on for months and as
time went by Hilde was becoming more and more unreasonable.
Damn
Quatre and Trowa this was all their fault, Duo thought. What could they be
thinking letting Dorothy and Midii parade their adorable little cherubs around
all the time and getting Hilde’s hormones all in an uproar of Mommy Envy? Duo leaned his forehead against the
unsympathetic door in a wave of self-pity.
He was horny and his feet were icy, the ‘romantic’ blaze in the fireplace
was dying and cold, like their love, he thought melodramatically. He turned back toward the couch, resigned to
spending the night there when something pulled his hair, jerking him back
toward the door.
“Owwwww,”
Duo whined, doing an about-face.
“Shit,”
he muttered, his braid was caught in the door.
“Uh,
Hilde? Hilde babe, could you, ummm, Hil . . . .
Hilde
stuck her tongue out at the door and buried her head beneath the pillow,
ignoring Duo’s plaintive pleas for help as callously as he squelched her dreams
of motherhood.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Heero
was intent on passing by the lunch table in the Preventer cafeteria without
being noticed. His mission seemed a
guaranteed success. Quatre and Duo were
absorbed and fascinated by some story Trowa was telling, the part-time clown
was waving his hands animatedly and his voice was low and urgent. Meanwhile
Wufei had his face buried in a bowl of rice, his chopsticks clicking slightly
as he ate lunch as fast as possible so he could go back to a particularly
interesting mission report he’d been reading.
Well
that was all very normal, Heero thought, automatically and he had more
important things to do than sit around wasting time with lunch. Suddenly he stopped mid-stride, something was off after all. Trowa regaling Duo and Quatre with a
story? Trowa not letting the others get
a word in edgewise? This must be
important! Why were they leaving him
out? What did they know that he didn’t?
Heero
scowled and returned unobtrusively to the lunchroom, silently grabbing a bowl
of rice on the way past the counter as his stomach rumbled gently. Relena was always nagging him to stop
skipping meals after all. . .
“He’s
ruthless, determined to get what he wants and to hell with anyone who gets in
his way. And she gives in to his every
demand . . .
Heero’s
eyes narrowed as he listened to Trowa’s words.
Was someone planning on another Christmas Eve attack? It had been quiet last year but perhaps that
had only been a fluke. Had Trowa
stumbled on some megalomaniac and his accomplice? Was it possible that somewhere out there was a dangerous pair of
scoundrels with a hidden cache of weapons plotting world domination?
Quatre
shook his head and Duo stared in fascination, his eyes wide and tired, circled
with bluish shadows.
“Now
Trowa, this isn’t unusual. You’re just
tired and overwhelmed. Nicolas is a
wonderful little guy and I’m not just saying that because he’s my godson,”
Quatre said soothingly, his own experience of being a father for almost a year
making him by far the expert. “Perhaps
Midii is a little over involved but she’ll get over it when he’s older! He’s
only three months old.”
Nicolas? Midii?
Trowa’s wife and baby son were hardly going to conquer the world, at
least not this year. Heero turned on his heel and escaped back out into the
hallway.
“It’s
like I don’t even exist,” Trowa ranted, dragging his fingers over the unshaven
stubble that seemed to always be present on his face lately, as Heero
disappeared out the door unseen. “And I
haven’t had a full night’s sleep for four months.”
Duo
counted on his fingers. “Uh,
Trowa? If the baby’s only three months
how come you haven’t slept for four?”
“False
alarms,” Trowa moaned, laying his head down on the table, his bangs flopping
dramatically around his face. “Every
little twinge and she thought she was having the baby!”
Duo
renewed his conviction that he and Hilde were not ready for such a rude change
in lifestyle. There was nothing like
sleeping in on Sunday, or any other morning he could get away with it. His violet eyes acquired a faraway look as
he thought of the inevitable conclusion of lazy mornings in bed and a tired
grin formed on his lips. He stretched
and yawned, rubbing his neck. He’d
ended up sleeping against the door last night wrapped in the skimpy little
fleece blanket, even talking about having a baby was keeping him up nights,
imagine actually having one! He sure
hoped Hilde got over her phase soon or he’d be as sleep-deprived as Trowa, baby
or not.
“Well,”
Quatre said, thinking quickly for something optimistic to say. “Maybe tonight when we all go out for dinner
you two can get things back on track. Come on Trowa, no one likes dressing up
and going out like Midii does. This is just what you two need.”
Trowa
sighed. Last Christmas everything had
been absolutely perfect, she had surprised him at work. His heart had been in his throat, finding
her perched on his desk, wrapped suggestively in a soft length of red
velvet. That’s when she’d told him the ‘good
news’ and he’d even been happy about it.
He hadn’t known she’d change so much, hadn’t known how much he loved the
way she doted on him and took such special care to dress the way he liked. Maybe he had taken it all for granted. Had there actually been a time when he
wished she would stay safely at home and out of trouble? Well, perhaps Quatre
was right and tonight at least he could be assured Midii would comb her hair
and put on a dress instead of those damn sweatpants! A little time alone together, that was all they needed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Can
I hold him now,” Cathrine asked hopefully, making faces at her young nephew as
his mother held him up to her shoulder, patting his back carefully to make him
burp.
Midii
frowned.
“Not
right now, Cathy. If a stranger holds
him after he eats he gets upset and spits up,” Midii said, her frown
deepening. She lifted a hand and pushed
impatiently at the long strands of hair that had fallen in her face from the
ponytail she had pulled it back in about 5:30 this morning when Nicolas had
arisen.
“But
Midii,” Cathrine began, if she was going to babysit Nicolas tonight he should
get reacquainted with her, besides Midii should start getting ready if she was
going to go out tonight. Her shuttle
had come in late and already her sister-in-law was behind schedule. Cathrine had an odd feeling that somehow
Midii was avoiding the issue, that somehow Midii didn’t trust her.
“Uh-oh,”
Midii said suddenly, her eyes widening and her lips smiling brightly. She looked for all the world like the
children’s television host who had done a special at the circus last year. Cathrine shivered in remembrance. The woman had been downright scary.
“Someone
has poopsies don’t they,” Midii cooed, blowing raspberries against the baby’s
soft tummy before holding him close and making little soothing sounds. “We have to take care of that right
away! We don’t want mama’s precious to
get a rash. Nooooooo! No we don’t!”
Cathrine
gulped bravely. Poopsies? If Midii didn’t get going she was going to
be late! “I-I’ll take care of it Midii. You need—“
Midii
ignored Cathrine and shooed her out.
“If
I don’t put on the diaper rash crème just right he doesn’t like it,” Midii
explained, her tone no-nonsense and professional as she shut the nursery door
in Cathrine’s face. “You have to put on
a thin layer, you can’t clump it.”
Cathrine
stared after her sister-in-law indignantly.
As if she would clump the diaper rash crème! Well, at least she didn’t think she would. She watched the door anxiously, Midii’s
behavior starting to make her wonder if she was really qualified to watch the
baby for the evening.
Trowa,
accompanied by Duo and Hilde, came in to find Cathrine still standing
uncomfortably outside the nursery door.
Trowa and Duo had stopped at the tux shop to pick up their rentals and
had changed there before picking up Hilde.
Cathrine
smiled. “You three look wonderful!
Especially you, little brother,” she said, tiptoeing to hug Trowa and feeling
the sting of sentimental tears in her eyes.
Only
a few years ago he hadn’t been as tall as she was and now look at him! The expensive black cloth fit perfectly over
broad shoulders and a body that was perfectly toned and muscled. No one filled out a tux like her little
brother, she thought, smiling a bit condescendingly at Duo, who slouched
uncomfortably in his jacket and was tugging at his bow tie. Midii was very lucky. A wonderful, handsome husband and a sweet
little son. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Midii
isn’t ready,” she said.
“What
happened,” Trowa said, disappointment creeping into his usually stoic green
eyes.
“Uh,
poopsies,” Cathrine said, her face growing hot as she echoed Midii’s silly baby
talk. It seemed to be catching.
“Heh
heh, well poopsies happen,” Duo said, turning to see Hilde’s reaction.
She
wouldn’t really want to be stuck with poopsies instead of partying would she,
he wondered? Ignoring Duo’s inquisitive look, Hilde merely lifted her chin and
turned her head away. She had promised
herself to give him the cold shoulder until he relented. It was difficult though, he looked so good
in that tux! It was so fun to get him
to wear one occasionally, she loved the expression on his face when he put it
on. He was like a glum little boy
forced to dress up to be the ringbearer in a wedding. She was sorely tempted to turn and give him a seductive smile
full of promise of what the night would bring. But at that moment the nursery door opened and Midii stepped out
with little Nicolas in her arms. Hilde pounced,
Cathrine joined in and Trowa and Duo stayed out of their way as they admired
the baby in his new Santa jammies.
“How
adorable! Oh my God, he’s the cutest
thing I’ve ever seen,” Hilde chirped.
“Oh
I’ve never seen anything so sweet, he’s so darling,” Cathrine chorused, the
women’s voices rising to a high pitch that everyone seemed to use around
babies.
Duo
stepped in to see what all the fuss was about.
All he saw was a wrinkled little runt who looked ridiculously like a
miniature Trowa dressed in a weird red hat.
“How
ya doin’ sport,” he asked the baby, poking a finger in his tummy. “Give Uncle Duo five!” He held out his hand. Nicolas Barton looked at the big, scary hand
and hid his face in his mother’s shoulder, crying loudly as Midii scowled at
Duo and tried to comfort the baby.
“Duo!
You scared him,” Hilde scolded, while Cathrine frowned at him disapprovingly.
Duo
shrugged, shaking off the uneasy feeling the baby’s cries started in the pit of
his stomach. The cries made him want to
run to find a bottle or a clean diaper or (let’s face it) just plain RUN!
“Y’see
babe, kids and me just don’t mix,” he said, taking the opportunity to drive his
point home.
Hilde
ignored Duo and reached for the small, red-clad baby clutched tightly in his
mother’s arms.
“Midii,
let me hold him, you need to get ready,” Hilde said.
Midii
looked startled. “Oh…Yes…Christmas Eve
dinner? I totally forgot,” she said
slowly, making no move to hand over the baby, kissing his teary cheeks and
stroking his hair softly. After an
interminable moment she finally held the baby out to Aunt Hilde.
“Give
me half an hour, we’ll be fashionably late,” Midii said, smiling crookedly and
trying to muster a little bit of her old joie de vivre. Truthfully the last thing she wanted was to
leave home tonight, she was exhausted and she just knew the baby would cry his
little heart out if she left. She felt
absolutely cruel and secretly prayed for an excuse to bow out of tonight’s
little party. What fun would it be
without her precious?
It
hadn’t taken long for the baby, endowed with the cleverness and survival
instinct of infancy, to latch onto Midii’s soft spot for anyone who needed her
utterly. During the war it had been her
love for her young brothers that thrust her into the chaos and now her tender
heart was utterly captivated by her son to the exclusion of everything else,
including Trowa. Unconsciously she felt
he didn’t really need her, he never really had, she was only an accessory to
his survival. He was self-sufficient
and always would be no matter if he loved her or not. That hurtful little thought strengthened her obsession with their
child, after all Trowa had never come looking for her and would have gone on
with life happily enough if she hadn’t dropped nearly literally into his lap
after being hired by Preventer security two years ago. She moved slowly toward the bedroom to get
dressed, anxious to put off the moment of separation as long as possible.
Nicolas,
meanwhile, smiled a toothless grin of glee as he spotted Hilde’s shiny
necklace. He leaned closer for a better
look and caught a breath of her light perfume.
The artificial scent stuck in his little throat and tickled his nose.
“choo,” the tiny boy sneezed,
wrinkling his little nose adorably.
Midii
raced back down the hall, her cheeks pale, her eyes distraught. She quickly snatched the baby from Hilde and
carefully felt his forehead with her hand.
“Are
you getting a cold, darling,” she cried.
“Mama will start the humidifier right away and we’ll get the
pediatrician on the phone and find out what to do. Is Mama’s poor baby sick?”
Trowa
sighed. She hadn’t even said hello to
him, let alone notice how he looked in his tux. When had that even mattered to him, he wondered. Before the baby she had had to beg and plead
to get him in a ‘monkey suit’ as Duo called it and now she didn’t even care
that he gone to all the trouble without her prompting.
“Don’t
be ridiculous Midii,” he said testily.
“It’s just a sneeze, he’s perfectly fine. Let Cathy take care of it and let’s get out of here, we’re late
as it is.”
Midii’s
eyes welled with tired, emotional tears.
He really was heartless, just as she had always suspected! She had always wanted so much to love him
but deep down he didn’t or couldn’t care about anything. Not even his own child.
“We’re
not going tonight,” she said flatly.
“Nicolas is coming down with something and I won’t leave him. Hilde, please give our apologies to everyone
and wish them a happy Christmas for us.”
“Speak
for yourself,” Trowa said, the words bubbling up from a place he never even
knew existed. “Stay here if you want,
it’s obvious you don’t want to be with me.
That baby is all you care about.”
There
was stunned silence, broken by a low whistle of astonishment from Duo who
watched the scene with amazement.
Babies were homewreckers and this was living proof, the kid had even
gotten Trowa upset and that was something.
He glanced at the oblivious baby with a certain respect.
“Who
could blame me,” Midii finally said.
“You don’t care about anyone, when are you going to stop being afraid to
love something? Nicolas loves me, he
needs me to be with him!”
A
wave of remorse washed over Trowa. I
love you, he thought. I love the baby,
too, it’s just that--
He
reached for her but she had turned away, hiding her face behind the long
strands of her hair.
Trowa
turned on Duo and Hilde impatiently.
“Well?
What are we waiting for? Let’s get out
of here,” Trowa muttered, giving them a look that did not invite arguments.
Duo
pulled Hilde aside before helping her into the car as Trowa gunned the engine
noisily.
“Do
you see now Hilde? Babies are nothing
but trouble. That kid’s putting Trowa
through hell and Midii’s turned into a major nutcase. You can’t honestly say you wanna bring that kind of shit down on
us, do ya?”
Hilde
didn’t answer, she was too busy holding on for dear life as Trowa yanked the
wheel and the car screeched through a U-turn nearly tossing her from her seat
and almost irreparably wrinkling her scarlet taffeta skirt.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midii
rocked slowly in the chair, pulled up close to the crib so she could watch
Nicolas sleep. The soft sounds of the
baby’s breathing mixed with the soft hiss of the humidifier blended with the
noise of Cathy puttering in the kitchen.
The
tired young mother picked up small rag doll and held it close, pulling her
knees up to her chest and leaning her forehead on them. Perhaps she had overreacted, but why
couldn’t he understand how she felt, why couldn’t he understand the
overwhelming love that was inside her for the baby?
She
lifted her head and peered at him again through the smooth wooden bars of the
crib. He slept just like Trowa, flat on
his back with his little arms flung wide and his head turned slightly to the
left. His hair was starting to grow in
and already the front was getting long and brushing over his eyebrows. She had to smile tenderly in amusement as he
moved a little in his sleep and the little lips curved in a faint smile of
contentment that looked just like Trowa’s.
She held the little doll closer but there was no answering response.
“All
you care about is the baby,” she heard the echo of Trowa’s angry words.
“That’s
not true,” she thought defensively, although there was a guilty twinge in her
soul. The baby needed her right now, he could very well be coming down with his
first cold and what if she wasn’t there to keep an eye on the situation?
“I’m
right,” she whispered aloud, trying to convince herself. “Anyone would understand, anyone with a
heart.”
She
wondered why her husband was being so unreasonable. She always tried to put him first but sometimes she had to set
priorities. He could take care of
himself, she had known that from the start.
Her brothers had needed her and now Nicolas. When he’d been born he’d stolen her heart from the moment he
first grasped her finger in his hand and stared up at her adoringly as she fed
him.
She
rubbed her hand tiredly over the tight muscles in her neck and the little gold
chain of her necklace scratched her skin.
“Always,”
she thought, remembering the inscription, the happiness of last Christmas. She had thought she would be so much happier
now. But what did always mean? He had never really needed her, why couldn’t
he see that right now she was desperately needed right here.
Despite
her self-righteous thoughts her heart felt heavy and her thoughts were anxious,
her soul nearly as torn as the first time she’d let Trowa down so badly, the
first time they’d met.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Trowa’s
grim face dispelled the merriment at the big table at Dorothy’s favorite
restaurant. Dorothy folded her arms in
annoyance. She had long since gotten
over the first flush of temporary insanity a new baby brought. She knew quite well that Felicity was safe
and happy at home with Nanny and several of her doting aunts, not to mention
Rasid and the Maganacs patrolling the grounds and peeking in with the little
treats and playful visits the one-year-old toddler adored.
All
attempts at conversation died or seemed awkward in Trowa’s frighteningly quiet
presence. She had been looking forward
to seeing everyone and showing off pictures of her beautiful baby. The little girl’s white-blonde hair was
getting long enough to put hair bows in and she looked positively angelic in her
professional holiday portrait.
Finally,
unable to withstand temptation, Dorothy surreptitiously passed the picture
under the table to Relena and Hilde and both girls leaned closer to inspect the
picture. Soon they forgot the ominous
stare of the put-out new father and were cooing and laughing over Felicity’s
picture.
“Did
I tell you she walked at nine months,” Dorothy bragged. “The doctor said with that type of early
development she’s sure to be a genius.”
Hilde
sighed, looking at the sweet little face in the picture. Felicity was adorable right down to her tiny
eyebrows that were just starting to show a hint of splitting into an imitation
of Dorothy’s most unique feature. She
wanted her own baby so badly, motherly instincts overwhelmed her whenever she
saw Nicolas or Felicity and even now she smiled dreamily, remembering the
little boy’s warm weight in her arms and his sweet baby fragrance. She didn’t understand Duo, not one bit.
“Here
Tro,” Duo attempted, passing a strong whiskey and soda toward the silent
pilot. “Have a little Christmas cheer
to take your mind off things.”
Trowa
didn’t answer, but he bolted the drink.
He should have stayed home with Midii.
Last year all he’d wanted was to be with her and now he had just left
her behind. They needed to be a family
tonight of all nights but he’d proven her right by walking out. No wonder she thought he didn’t care. He tried to gather his courage and squash
his pride and just go home.
Hilde
chose that moment to lean over and show Duo the picture of Felicity.
“Isn’t
she precious,” she crooned, her voice a dead-on imitation of Midii’s coo. “Oh Duo, this is all I want for Christmas.”
Trowa
winced, home wasn’t what it used to be.
Midii would never notice if he came back or not. Like Hilde, the baby was all she
wanted. He stalked over to the bar,
leaving the table without a word.
Duo
giggled nervously. “Maybe Quatre will
let us borrow the kid sometime, on a trial basis or something?”
Quatre
and Dorothy looked up in unison, their faces appalled. “Lend” their baby to the God of Death? Never!
“Err,
maybe not,” Duo said, but Hilde beamed happily. Maybe Duo was relenting at last?
Quatre
hastily changed the subject. Trowa’s
absence was the perfect opportunity to get Duo and Hilde to tell what had
happened to cast such a pall over what should have been a happy evening.
“Well,”
Duo said, slurping down his own and Trowa’s portions of an Oysters Rockefeller
appetizer thoughtfully. “Basically,
it’s all Midii’s fault. She’s obsessed
with the kid and I don’t think Trowa’s getting any. He’s pretty pissed.”
“Thank
you Duo for that insightful commentary,” Dorothy said sarcastically, drawing
her brows together thoughtfully.
“That’s
not true at all,” Hilde said, anxious to stick up for Midii. “The baby looked like he was getting sick and
Midii wanted to stay home with him.
Trowa was totally unreasonable.”
“Bet
he was just allergic to you, he did sneeze when you held him,” Duo said
teasingly. “Maybe babies can’t be
around you Hil and we’ll have to stay childless!”
The
outraged Hilde started to sputter and her eyes started to spark. But before she could speak she was
interrupted by an unexpected source.
“I’ve
got a plan,” Heero said, in a quiet voice that nonetheless caught everyone’s
attention. Relena’s eyes shone with
delight. She loved when his hidden
romantic side was exposed. She squeezed
his hand beneath the table and leaned on his shoulder.
Dorothy,
Quatre, Hilde and Duo leaned in close to Heero and Relena and the scheming
began.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Special
Agent Abdul, Operation Set the Trap
Cathrine
smiled to herself as she set the phone gently back on its cradle. Cautiously she peered down the dark hall to
the closed door where Midii was finishing up wrapping the baby’s Christmas
gifts from “Santa.”
Humming
to herself, Cathy leaned closer to the mirror in the hallway and fussed a bit
with her hair, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a small container of
peppermint lip gloss and rubbed it gently on her lips. She smacked them together and blew a kiss, a
faint blush creeping up in her cheeks.
She checked her watch, synchronized to match that of the other
conspirators and glanced expectantly at the door.
DING-DONG
Cathrine
grinned. Right on time. With a spring in her step and a cheerful glint
in her violet eyes she moved slowly toward the door, giving him time to ring
the bell again.
DING-DONG
Midii
put down the roll of bright blue Christmas paper, the jolly snowmen decorating
it looked up at her with vacuous smiles as she cocked her head and distinctly
heard the sound of the doorbell. She
frowned and pursed her lips. Couldn’t
the visitor read? She’d put a sign on
the door herself.
“Baby
sleeping! DON’T ring the bell, knock gently.”
“My
poor baby,” she muttered, rising quickly as she heard the inevitable sounds of
the little one waking up and walked out into the hall to investigate.
Instinct
took over and Midii pressed herself flat against the closed nursery door. She
could hear the baby quieting, the sound of the doorbell had only made him
restless. Now she was curious about the
visitor himself. Cathrine was
whispering vehemently to someone, the secretive manner in which they were
talking prompted Midii to investigate.
Her gray-blue eyes narrowed and she silently moved to the master bedroom
and switched the house-wide baby monitor system to tune in to the front hall.
Cathrine
tilted her head to indicate the tiny red light that flipped on in the small
white box near the ceiling and the handsome Maganac glanced at it and nodded,
drawing his face into stern lines and hiding his usual cheerful grin with
difficulty.
“Oh
Abdul,” Cathrine cried, her voice distressed.
“Thank you for coming to check in and let us know how things are
going. But to tell the truth we didn’t
even know Trowa had been sent on a mission.
I don’t dare tell Midii, she’ll be so upset.”
“Perhaps
he didn’t want to worry you, we all thought you knew,” Abdul said, sadly,
getting into his performance. “But
Sally asked me to make sure you and Midii weren’t too worried. It seems he missed his last two mandatory
safety check-ins and that’s not like him.”
Midii
sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the receiver, her heart racing, utterly
captivated by every word.
“Why
doesn’t someone go after him,” Cathrine cried, her voice trembling as she held
back a laugh when Abdul made a sad puppy face at her.
“I
agree with you,” Abdul said as she pointed silently at the mistletoe hanging
over their heads. “But Wufei’s in
command tonight and he feels Trowa can handle the situation and any backup
would just get in the way.”
He
leaned toward Cathrine and placed his big, tanned hand tenderly on her soft,
ivory cheek he pulled her close for a quick Christmas kiss under the mistletoe.
Midii
trembled with rage. Wufei, that
arrogant bastard!! She could picture it
now, Trowa needed help and that jerk was taking chances with his life because
he was enjoying his night in the spotlight.
She stood up and began pacing, all that had happened between her and
Trowa making her heart heavy with guilt and despair. She had taken him for granted, it was true and now she was going
to lose him. He thought she didn’t
care, he would take unnecessary chances.
“Oh
Trowa,” she whispered, leaning closer to the receiver. There was silence, broken by the sound of
gasping breaths. Cathrine must be
crying, that was it, Midii assumed and dashed out to the hall.
As
she suspected Midii saw Abdul, one of Quatre’s Maganacs and also a member of
Preventers, holding Cathrine comfortingly in his arms. They both looked up at the sound of her
running feet.
“Midii,”
they said in guilty chorus, straining to keep their faces sober and sad.
“Where’s
Trowa,” Midii demanded. “I heard every
word you said and Chang Wufei be damned I’m going to find him!”
Cathrine
and Abdul squeezed hands. Mission
accomplished, Abdul thought triumphantly.
“I
can’t tell you and you can’t go,” he said.
“It’s much too dangerous and you have a child to consider.”
Her
eyes glittered with pent-up rage.
“I
outrank you Abdul. I need the details
and I don’t have any time to waste,” Midii growled, barely keeping a lid on her
anger.
Abdul
looked confused and put a hand to his head.
“But
if you’re off on maternity leave you really don’t have any clout, do you,” he
asked, biting his lip to keep from laughing.
“Let’s
just say you don’t want to make me angry,” Midii said, glowering.
“Please
Abdul, I think she’s right, maybe you can go after him for us. Midii has to stay here with the baby,”
Cathrine said, looking at the tall Maganac helplessly.
“Don’t
be ridiculous Cathy,” Midii said disgustedly, unconsciously echoing Trowa’s
same words to her earlier. Her voice
softened. “I’ll do this myself. You can take care of Nicolas. I-I trust you with him. He’ll be fine.”
Rumors
of a situation at the diplomatic office tower, Midii thought, considering
Abdul’s scanty information and what she needed to do. The place had a piano bar on the ground floor, offices and an
executive penthouse on top. Her thoughts raced, nice place, tight security, but
she could enter through the lounge and find a way in.
She
glanced at herself in the mirror, aghast at what she saw and yanked the elastic
from her ponytail and ran a hand through her hair.
“Just
look at yourself,” she said despondently.
“How are you going to save Trowa looking like this?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Special
Agent Chang Wufei Operation Mr. Scrooge
“He’s
here,” Heero said, watching Wufei stalk into the restaurant and head straight
for the bar and the dejected Trowa.
Heero
stood, and flanked by Duo and Quatre, they joined the other two Gundam pilots
who were apparently deep in important conversation.
Wufei
scowled at his partying comrades in arms.
He’d drawn the short straw this year and was keeping an eye on things at
Preventers HQ this Christmas. No real loss, besides, unbeknownst to them Sally
had agreed to keep him company, claiming she had paperwork to catch up on. Heero had had to call in a few favors to
embroil him in this shameful affair but now he was here he may as well enjoy
himself.
“We’ve
got a delicate situation and we’re going to need to call off this party of
yours and go into action,” he said severely, his dark eyes judgmental and
superior as he looked at them all.
“Aww,
no way Wu-man. You can’t make me work
Christmas,” Duo said.
“You’re
unsuitable for this mission anyway,” Wufei said, enjoying the little dig at the
American pilot. This charade did have a
certain charm, he thought.
Trowa
was strangely quiet, several drinks had strengthened his resolve to go home and
try to patch things up with Midii.
“Barton’s
perfect for this mission. Even better
than you Yuy,” Wufei said, meeting Heero’s eyes belligerently. The Prussian blue eyes opposite his
narrowed.
“I’ll
take the mission,” Heero said, getting into the spirit of the situation. “Trowa’s got too much at stake, besides he’s
distracted.”
“You’re
right,” Trowa said. “Good luck Heero,
I’ve got to get home to Midii. We have things to discuss.”
“What? You can’t leave,” Duo and Quatre said
together, aghast at the unexpected failure of their plan.
“Heero
can’t do the mission after all. He has
to escort Miss Relena somewhere and it security around her has to be tighter on
Christmas Eve, doesn’t it Heero,” Quatre said, anxiously trying to save the
situation.
“Hn,”
Heero said. He’d almost forgotten it
was a setup; Wufei’s remark had inadvertently struck his pride. “Sorry Trowa, I guess you’re it.”
“Listen
here Wufei,” Trowa said, feeling suddenly put-upon from every direction. “Do
this yourself. I worked last Christmas
and I have something important to do.”
“You’re
a Preventer and you’re always on duty,” Wufei said coldly. “I have to be
getting back to Headquarters, I’m needed there. Now listen, the suspect you have to apprehend cannot be harmed in
any way. Although the security breach
is highly detrimental the culprit’s life and identity must be protected. A relation of the President you see and Lady
Une doesn’t want a scandal. This has to
be handled with no weapons so it will be very dangerous.”
“Sounds
like you want Quatre on this mission then.
He never wants to hurt anyone,” Trowa said, now desperate to get out of
it. The mission seemed like a no-win
situation.
“Me?”
Quatre squeaked. “Of course I can’t!
It’s Felicity’s birthday and Dorothy and I must be getting home. Err, sorry Trowa, I’d like to help.”
Duo
had already disappeared and Trowa sighed in resignation.
“Fine,
just tell me where I have to go,” he said, his sense of duty overwhelming his
own wishes. “Do I get overtime for this
at least?”
Wufei
merely sneered at such a dishonorable remark and turned on his heel to leave.
“What
a bunch of nonsense,” he thought to himself.
“If Barton’s having romantic troubles he should just go home and tell
the onna whose boss.”
His
black eyes widened and he smirked smugly as he opened the door to his dimly-lit
office. He himself was having no
trouble at all with his onna and his own love life was fabulous.
Sally
smile seductively and let the scarlet silk kimono drop to the floor.
“You’re
such a romantic at heart,” she whispered lovingly in her husband’s ear,
thoroughly approving of his part in Heero’s little scheme.
“Let’s
just keep that our secret,” he answered, loosening her braids and pushing her
back on the couch in the corner.
And
for a second straight Christmas Eve a lady in red was keeping her Preventer
husband happily distracted as peace reigned securely in the EarthSphere United
Nation.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Special
Agent Quatre Winner: Operation Disarmament
Midii
felt a much-needed burst of confidence as she heard a male bar patron whistle
softly in appreciation. In some ways
Nicolas had certainly done wonders for her figure, adding new curves to a
figure that had tended to be too slender.
It had been too long since she had gotten herself fixed up as she’d
always used to. She was starting to
think this might be the perfect opportunity to make things up to Trowa, if only
he was safe.
Anxiously
she sat on a barstool and examined the room.
The kitchen seemed a likely place to gain entry to the secure levels
above. Perhaps there was a dumb
waiter. Her forehead puckered in a
thoughtful frown and she crossed one leg, clad in clinging garnet velvet
leggings, over the other and fiddled with the buttons on the tight black satin
blouse nervously, hoping she hadn’t lost her touch. Her heart pounded furiously
as she told herself that surely Trowa would be fine.
“For
you miss, from the gentleman in the corner,” the bartender said, handing her a
Kir Royale in a sparkling crystal glass.
Midii
took the drink and sipped it slowly, turning on the stool to see who had sent
it.
The
wavy blonde hair was familiar and he looked uncomfortable as a voluptuous
waitress bent close to see if he needed anything. He wiggled his fingers at her in a wave and Midii grabbed her
drink and moved toward him through the crowd.
“Quatre!
What are you doing here,” Midii asked, plopping down in the seat across from
Trowa’s best friend.
Quatre
looked sorrowful as he tried to stop from squirming, something was mercilessly
tickling his ankles beneath the long white tablecloth in the dark corner of the
little bar.
“I’m
Trowa’s contact of course,” he sighed, pulling his feet beneath his chair and
pulling it back a few more inches from the table. “Only he hasn’t checked in. I’ve been trying to decide whether it
will do more harm than good to go up there.”
“I
need details,” Midii said, bolting the rest of her drink for courage. “Abdul didn’t know much more than this
location.”
“It
should have been a quick job, just a simple case of blackmail in the higher
levels but it could turn serious. A
spoiled cabinet member’s daughter is trying to bribe her father but we’ll
afraid if he doesn’t give in sensitive information could leak and endanger
certain treaties,” Quatre explained.
“The building has tight security and we don’t want to trip it or the
press and local authorities will be alerted.”
“This
doesn’t make sense,” Midii said, sipping her drink
“Huh?
Of course it does,” Quatre said uncomfortably.
Midii
shook her head. “Trowa’s too good, he
should be back by now. I’d say whoever
he was waiting for hadn’t shown up yet but then why didn’t he check in? He must really be in trouble.”
Quatre
swallowed uneasily, for a moment he thought she’d been on to him.
“I
know Trowa’s a professional but he hasn’t been himself lately. Want to talk about it,” he said gently.
“I
guess I’ve been neglecting Trowa. It’s
just that the baby needs so much attention right now and Trowa, well, I didn’t
think Trowa needed me like that. Maybe
I was wrong,” Midii said, tears starting in her eyes. She blinked them away resolutely and pushed back the chair
violently.
“I’m
going after him and you can’t stop me,” she said, backing away from Quatre
defensively.
Wouldn’t
dream of it, he thought smugly. All clear on this end, except for the most
important thing, he remembered.
“Do
you have a weapon,” he asked.
Midii
rolled her eyes and nodded.
“Hand
it over,” Quatre said sternly.
Her
eyes widened.
“Are
you crazy? Something’s wrong up there,
I need it,” she protested, clutching her little silver pistol protectively.
Quatre
shook his head. “I can’t let you go
with that. I’ll call Heero Midii and
between the two of us. . .
“Fine,
here,” she said, thrusting the pistol at him quickly. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Trowa needs me!”
“He
certainly does,” Quatre thought as he watched her head for the kitchen. Everything was going exactly as
planned. His face flushed red suddenly
and he slunk lower in his seat as he felt velvety-soft lips caress his leg
beneath the table followed by the mischievous nip of sharp teeth.
A
sharp tug followed and Quatre found himself dragged beneath the tablecloth and
face to face with a very amorous Dorothy.
“What
can I say,” she asked, shrugging. “With
a baby in the house it’s difficult to get enough time alone together.”
She
looped her arms around his neck and kissed him ardently, feeling the flush of
heat from his fair cheeks as he responded.
“Here?
Now,” he whispered, pulling the tablecloth more carefully over the tips of his
shoes as she pulled him closer by the ends of his black silk tie.
Dorothy
nodded and the little table in the dark corner began shaking rather
suspiciously.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hilde
obeyed Midii’s sign and knocked gently on the Barton’s front door.
No
answer.
She
knocked a bit less gently and finally the door was answered by a flushed
Cathrine. She wore only a half-buttoned
blouse, white silk panties decorated with perky red-striped candy canes and a
sprig of mistletoe in her hair.
“Ohhhh!
Am I interrupting something,” Hilde asked mischievously, as Cathrine
blushed. She looked into the other room
to see Abdul hastily buttoning his trousers as he looked for his tie.
“Umm,
it was the mistletoe, you see,” Cathrine stuttered embarrassedly. She’d known Hilde was coming, it was just
that she’d kind of, forgotten . . .
“I’ll
take that, thank you very much,” Hilde said, plucking the sprig of green leaves
and white berries from Cathrine’s curls and dropping it in the red shopping bag
she held.
“What
are you up to,” Cathy asked, as Abdul lovingly draped a blanket over her
shoulders and smiled in greeting to Hilde.
“The
girls and I decided we should make up a little care package for the
lovebirds. You know, mistletoe,
champagne, a blanket,” Hilde said, smiling.
“This
is sure to work,” Cathrine said, clasping her hands together tightly. “Midii keeps a very nice blanket in the
little trunk in her bedroom. Help
yourself.”
Hilde
found the little wooden trunk, charmingly carved with a heart on the side that
had been Trowa and Cathrine’s storage for their circus act paraphernalia. Midii had turned it into a hope chest with
all the special things from their life together. Hilde carefully opened the lid.
What she saw folded carefully on top made her gasp in surprise.
“Midii!!
I should have known it was you. You
little traitor. How could you,” she
sniffed, grabbing the red velvet bedspread and clasping it to her chest
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midii
snatched a crabmeat-stuffed mushroom from a silver tray in the kitchen and
popped it in her mouth, she’d been too upset to eat dinner and the food smelled
heavenly. She ducked beneath the counter as a waiter grabbed the order and
carried it from the room. She pulled a
drawer open and fumbled blindly until her fingers closed over cool metal. Silently she rose up on her toes and peered
over the edge of the cupboards, the rest of the staff had their backs turned
and she quickly ducked into the dumb waiter. She wrinkled her nose and brushed
her hands off on her pants. The inside was dusty, it obviously hadn’t been used
in awhile. Slowly, so the rope wouldn’t
creak, Midii pulled the little wooden box up the shaft four floors before
coming to a halt.
“That
must be as far as it goes,” she thought, good thing, because her arms were
tired and she was starting to think the security issues would be well ignored
if only it meant Trowa were safe.
Resolutely she forced down her feelings of dread and cracked the door
open. Midii breathed a sigh of relief
when she spotted the fuse box on the wall directly opposite the dumb waiter
entrance. In the dark she could easily
run up the stairs undetected, she was certainly not in the mood to hoist
herself hand over hand up an elevator shaft or crawl through vents
tonight. Despite her anxiety she
stifled a huge yawn, waited for the security camera to scan the other side of
the floor then bolted from the door into the hall and cut the power to the top
ten floors of the building, not forgetting to pocket the fuses to prevent any
quick fixes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Trowa
had been hiding behind a door in the penthouse suite for going on two hours. He yawned and rolled his shoulders. It was so hard to stay awake in the darkness
like this. Wouldn’t it just be his luck
if no one showed up to steal any information tonight? He glanced at the illuminated clock on the desk. 10:45 p.m.
That was way past his bedtime these days. Did Wufei honestly expect him, the father of an insomniac
three-month old to be able to stay awake on a boring mission like this?
He
let himself slide down the wall onto the floor. The carpets in here were remarkably plushy he thought stupidly,
tiredness turning his brain into something resembling the bottled mashed
bananas Midii tried to tempt the baby with.
He leaned his head back and rested his eyes, just for a moment . . . .
It
was cold and when his eyes blinked open again he could see his breath hanging
in the air. All around him thin
gaunt-eyed people scurried about nervously, watching the sky as if they were
mice that expected a hawk to swoop down at any moment. The sky itself was a hazy gray and the air
was cold and forbidding although there was a noticeable absence of any
breeze. A scrawny child wrapped in a
dark, shapeless blanket stopped and looked up at him curiously before dropping
a limp, artificial flower before a tall, marble monument. Suddenly he was alone in the vacuum and the
tiny writing carved on the stone beckoned despite the sudden sense of panic and
revulsion he felt inside.
He
squinted to make it out but the words seemed to fade away until he got close
enough that his nose almost touched the icy marble.
To
honor those who died for peace.
December 24, AC 196. Colony
L3-X18999.
Names
were carved below in even smaller print and he could make out the beginnings of
Cathrine’s name on the list before he turned away, gasping for breath.
This
was just a dream. Just like that movie
with the wild-eyed man and his angelic companion trying to find the meaning of
life.
“I
stopped that colony from rotating,” he thought, trying to still the pounding of
his heart at the sight of Cathy’s name.
“It didn’t fall.”
“Wake
up,” he ordered his sleeping self.
“This is so stupid, this can’t be happening to you.”
The
unconscious Trowa made himself more comfortable against the wall, exhaustion
granting him the ability to sleep anywhere.
People
surrounded him again, looking at the sky and exclaiming as rain mixed with wet
snow began to fall.
“Best
get out of the rain son,” a wild-haired man with a false nose strapped on his
face said kindly.
“A
little rain never hurt anyone,” Trowa grumbled, it was obvious that Doctor S
didn’t recognize him. Did that mean
he’d never existed or something?
He
got caught up in the crowd of panicking people that rushed for a little stone
church at the edge of the graveyard.
They pushed and shoved and he could see red welts on their skin where
the acidic rain had hit them. He
glanced up toward the altar to see it flanked by red flags bearing huge,
Mariemaia Army insignias.
He
turned to leave and bumped into a slight figure dressed all in black. He was staring at a gold cross, the one he’d
given Midii last Christmas. Desperately
he grabbed at the necklace, feeling for the inscription with his fingers. That would be proof, proof that this was all
a product of his imagination.
But
the thin metal was smooth and he looked up into a pair of worried and haunted
blue-gray eyes that had an unusual cast of innocence that he had never seen in
them.
A
black veil covered her hair but he knew it was her as she clutched the little
cross tightly in her hand.
“Are
you all right sir,” she asked gently.
“Midii!
It’s me. Trowa,” he said, grabbing onto her arms.
She
shook her head and backed away.
“Nanashi,”
he said.
“I’m
sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know
you. Stay here, you must have hurt your
head. I’ll get the Father.”
“Of
course you know me, this is just some insane dream,” he said, leaning forward
and kissing her lips.
A
hand twisted in his collar and he was yanked back and flung onto the floor.
“Listen
pal, I don’t know how it is where you come from but in my church no one gets
all grabby with the nuns. Capisce,” the
dark form stated flatly.
Trowa
tried to peer through the dim light.
The voice was so familiar.
The
figure turned to Midii.
“Are
you okay Sr. Marie or do I need to show this clown a thing or two? I’ve still got it you know,” he said, his
voice oddly gentle as he spoke to the girl.
“I’m
fine Fr. Maxwell,” she said softly “I
think the poor man is confused. You
shouldn’t hurt him.”
“Duo!
You’re a real priest? And Midii’s a nun,” Trowa asked, he started to laugh
hysterically, exactly as he had when Heero had revealed the amazing fact that
dying hurt like hell. Was he only
sleeping or had he died and gone to some hell where everything was the opposite
of what it should be?
“How
do you know my name,” Duo asked sharply, pushing Sr. Marie back behind him and
looking warily at the obviously insane stranger. “Who the hell are you?”
“It’s
me Trowa. Trowa Barton,” Trowa said.
Midii,
or Sr. Marie, or whoever she was now, gasped and crossed herself.
“Listen
buddy,” Duo said patiently. “Trowa
Barton died years ago. His father’s the
one who dropped the colony on Earth. We’re just here trying to give a little
comfort to the survivors, the ones stuck on this wasteland of a planet. It’s my penance. I don’t know how you know my name but just keep it quiet. I’m a wanted man y’know. Come to think of it you better just
leave. The storm’s over so get out.”
Just
a dream, Trowa thought. Is this what it
would be like if I never existed? I
wasn’t even thinking that when I fell asleep so why is this happening? The dream Midii looked so sad and frightened
as she watched him. Not like herself at
all. What had happened to her? He
obviously hadn’t been there to find her in the woods. Was she better off?
“Midii,”
he said, pushing Duo aside. “What
happened to you? What happened when you
went into the woods looking for the mercenaries?”
Midii
turned and ran, disappearing down the dark aisle. Trowa went to follow but Fr. Maxwell stepped between them.
“I’ve
had it with you mister,” he said.
“She’s been hurt enough and this is where I draw the line.”
He
pulled back his fist and Trowa felt himself falling back, in the penthouse he
tilted sideways in his sleep and fell over, his head hitting the door.
His
eyes flew open, his hand touched the carpet.
He was exactly where he should be.
Trowa stared through the transparent ceiling, the penthouse office a
room of windows, scowling up at whatever God or angel or other deity had sent
him the dream.
“I
already planned on going back to her, if you’re so omniscient you already knew
that,” he complained, detesting the sick feeling of despair in his gut when he
closed his eyes and saw the dream Midii’s face burned on the inside of his
eyelids.
He
peered at the clock again. 11:30 p.m.
The numbers on the digital clock suddenly blinked and the meager lights
disappeared. Trowa tensed, finally
something was happening. After a moment
he could see a bit, the room was completely walled with windows, even the
ceiling was a thick, transparent plexiglass material and it was as if he was
surrounded by stars. The night was cold
and crystal clear.
There
was an ache and an empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and it
wasn’t just because he’d skipped dinner.
He missed Midii, he missed the way things used to be and the way they
had expected them to be once the baby was born. The dream, stupid as it was, had driven it all home. He loved her and if that meant putting up
with her temporary insanity so be it.
He had always longed for someone to fight for and protect and he’d found
her that long ago day in the woods.
This wasn’t the type of battle he was used to but he knew he could fight
it for her.
A
soft creak announced that the door was being pushed slowly open and Trowa held
his breath. Time to end this thing and
get home to straighten things out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Midii
took a deep breath, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, and stepped
cautiously into the dark room. It was difficult to control her breathing after
dashing up ten flights of stairs but she managed. Suddenly she stopped and stood perfectly still, trying to blend
into the shadows. There was someone in
the room, she could feel it. With her
peripheral vision she saw movement in the black space behind the door.
She
smiled a little as she noticed the faint gleam of a single eye in the darkness,
letting her gauge her prey’s height.
Suddenly
she twisted her waist lunging into a roundhouse kick learned in one of Wufei’s
mandatory martial arts seminars. Thank
goodness for in-house training she thought rather smugly as she spun right on
target before landing in shocked surprise flat on her back.
Trowa
grunted a little, his hand smarted from catching that kick and knocking his
attacker over. The room was silent
again and he wondered where she’d gone.
It was a woman, he knew, she used the same perfume as Midii had worn
before the baby was born. He moved cautiously in the direction he thought she’d
landed.
Midii
blinked angrily, she thought she’d had him but he’d made a good
countermove. Of course he’s good, you
idiot, he stopped Trowa she scolded herself.
Why had Quatre taken her gun? To
her mind there was no one she wouldn’t threaten to find out where Trowa was,
she longed for the days when politics had not been a concern. Increased anger
flared in her and she saw the dark figure moving toward her again. She rose up on hands and knees and thrust
her leg out tangling his steps and sweeping his feet out from under him,
smiling as she heard him go down. She
launched herself onto his back and pressed her emergency weapon into his ribs.
She
breathed heavily from the exertion but before she could find breath to speak
she found herself flipped onto her back and the tables turned.
Trowa
pinned his assailant’s wrists over her head with one hand and dug for his
flashlight with the other, relieved that whatever object she’d been holding on
him apparently hadn’t been a gun. He’d
reacted automatically to being pinned although he should have been more cautious.
The imprint of the warm soft body seemed to filter through his shirt with a
familiar feeling of content and desire. He shook it off, this was the enemy and
he loved Midii despite their recent argument.
He
shone the light down on her hands first, one of his slender eyebrows raising in
wry amusement as he saw what she held in her tightly clenched fist. The young woman struggled beneath him wildly
as he straddled her and tried to keep her still.
“Get
off me you big brute or I’ll find a way to kill you. My partner is right behind me and he’ll . . .
She
shut her eyes and turned her face violently from the blinding light.
“Midii!”
She
opened her eyes a crack and peered up at him.
“Trowa!
Oh my God, I was so worried why didn’t you check in? I was frantic, I thought you needed me,” Midii said, blinking at
him in disbelief.
His
emerald eyes narrowed as he looked at the rather harmless ice cream scoop in
her hand.
“You
came up here against an unknown enemy with an ice cream scoop? What the hell’s the matter with you? You can’t do this anymore. What about Nicolas,” he said, tightening his
grip on her wrists angrily.
“I’m
not stupid,” Midii protested. “I
brought my gun but Quatre took it. He
said it was orders from the top. I was
hoping I could trick them with that scoop.
You still haven’t told me why you didn’t check in with your contact and
why you made a sudden move when you were pinned by someone who may have had a
gun. Trowa you could have been killed.”
“Well
you never actually had me down, the play was still in motion,” he said, wheels
of suspicion beginning to turn in his head.
“This
isn’t football and this isn’t funny,” Midii said.
“It
is a game I think and the situation is rather funny,” Trowa said, sudden
realization dewing. He smiled down on
her, leaning forward to touch his nose softly to hers.
“Midii,
I do need you.”
“Oh
Trowa,” she cried, pulling him close to her and letting his familiar weight
crush her into the thick plush carpet.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been
horrible. I still love you. I love you more than ever. It felt so wrong being home without you
tonight and as soon as I overheard Abdul talking to Cathy I was so afraid.”
He
nuzzled her neck as she pressed kisses all over his face, stroking his hair and
whispering little French love words in his ear until he closed his lips over
hers in a long, passionate kiss.
“It
feels like we’re on top of the world here,” Midii whispered, looking up at the
sky as Trowa studied the constellations reflected in her eyes. “What did you mean when you said this was a
game though? If you’re only security
testing this building I can tell you right now it’s certainly not up to par!”
“I
mean that certain parties noticed that everything was perhaps not quite as it
should be between us and took matters into their own hands,” Trowa
explained. “I was never in danger or
supposed to check in.”
“You
mean that Abdul, Cathy and even Quatre set us up,” Midii guessed, wrapping her
arms around Trowa’s neck again and pulling him down on top of her. She sighed as his familiar weight settled on
top of her, crushing her into the plush carpet.
“A bigger conspiracy than that,” Trowa
said. “Even Heero and Wufei I’d guess.”
A
gentle tapping was heard at the door when Trowa mentioned Heero’s name and
reluctantly Trowa got off Midii and pulled her up off the floor to answer it.
A
slender bottle of champagne sat in the hallway and the restored lights gleamed
down on two delicate crystal glasses. A
note attached to the bottle read:
The
handwriting had the familiar, delicate and graceful practiced penmanship of a
certain Vice Foreign Minister.
Curious,
Midii ducked beneath Trowa’s arm and sprinted off down the hall, just in time
to see a busboy from the lounge below step into the elevator. She thought she saw the triumphant gleam of
Prussian blue eyes beneath a mop of unruly brown hair as the metal doors
slammed shut behind him.
She
looked back down the hall at Trowa standing in the doorway in his tux, holding
he champagne in one hand and the glasses in the other. Why hadn’t she noticed how wonderful he
looked earlier, she wondered as little shivers of expectation raced up and down
her spine.
He
took her hand and led her back into the penthouse.
“You
look amazing,” Midii purred. “I love a
man in a tux.” Her hands explored the
smooth faric, feeling the warmth of his skin from the exertion of their earlier
battle.
“And
you look good enough to eat,” Trowa responded, lifting her up and letting her
wrap her legs around his waist as they kissed, his fingers stroking the the
velvet that clung to her like a second skin. The room was beautiful; the night
and the stars surrounded them. She
relaxed and loosened his bowtie, letting her fingers caress his throat. It seemed so long since she’d touched him
like this and yet so natural.
Gently
he lowered her back down on the floor, his fingers working the buttons of her
black satin blouse with excruciating slowness.
As he kissed her he noticed her trying to peer unnoticed at the time on
the clock.
“Maybe
we should go home,” Trowa suggested. “I
think a certain someone is missing his mother by now.”
Midii
shook her head, determined to make up for her recent neglect. “It’ll be alright, for a little while at
least,” she said bravely. “Cathy can
handle it.”
“I
always wanted a home and a family,” Trowa said, rapidly rebuttoning Midii’s
blouse and watching her smile grow bigger.
“That includes both of you.
Besides after we get him settled maybe we can dig a certain piece of red
velvet out of it’s box and see how it looks on you this year.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“How
did it go,” Relena asked, standing up from her seat on the velvet couch in the
suite below the penthouse.
“Mission
accomplished,” Heero said, as he unbuttoned the white busboy jacket he’d
borrowed from downstairs. Amazing what
a little $10,000 tip for a $500 bottle of champagne could buy you. Including this particular room, nearly as
nice as the one above it, the full wall of windows revealing the crisp, starry
night and the city lights far below.
“That
was a wonderful thing for you to do Heero,” Relena said, smiling. “You can be so sweet sometimes.”
A
dark flush tinted Heero’s cheeks and he lowered his head, letting his unruly
locks hide his face. “Don’t give me too
much credit,” he said gruffly. “I had
my motives. Midii’s been off too long
and I needed her to test this building’s security. Lady Une’s considering its acquisition to expand our office
space.”
Relena
shook her head understandingly. He just
didn’t want to admit that he was a romantic at heart. She understood him perfectly.
“There’s
just one thing I don’t understand,” she said, changing the subject and pouting
a little as Heero walked purposefully toward her.
“What’s
that,” he asked, reaching down to pull a small white lace cap from her
honey-gold waves.
“Why
did I need to wear this horrible French maid outfit?”
Heero
didn’t answer, but the evil expression on his face told Relena all she needed
to know.
“Oh!
Heero,” she said, laying back on the couch flirtatiously and kicking off her
high-heeled black patent leather shoes.
This was definitely worth missing a diplomatic reception for.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Hilde,”
Duo called into the dark house, his voice edged with concern. They had been supposed to rendezvous with
the other conspirators back at the restaurant for a celebratory toast. Heero and Relena hadn’t shown up either and only
Quatre had been considerate enough to leave word that due to unexpected circumstances
he and Dorothy were calling it a night.
As
he stepped into the small living room the tree suddenly burst into a flare of
glorious light. Hilde lay on her side
on the floor beneath the tree, the white radiance making her pale skin shimmer,
she had a lot of skin showing too because she wore nothing besides an artfully
draped length of rich red velvet. She
directed a sexy, heavy-lidded look at her husband and popped the end of a large
candy cane between her lush red lips, cradling the hooked end gracefully in her
hand.
“Mmmmmmmmm,”
she said, withdrawing it slowly and releasing the sweet candy-scent of
peppermint into the air.
“Does
this mean we have a Christmas Eve cease-fire,” Duo asked, taking off his
jacket, swinging it around on his finger a few times and tossing it on the
couch. He winced at the unmistakable
sound of breaking glass as some small holiday treasure crashed to the floor and
Hilde dropped her seductive pose for an instant and gasped before carefully
resuming her nonchalant look.
“Oh
no, I’m not waiting for you at all,” Hilde said huskily. “I’m waiting for someone who’ll give me what
I want this Christmas. I’ve been very,
very good.”
“I
can see that,” Duo said, eyeing her lustfully.
“So who are you waiting for?”
“Santa,”
Hilde said sweetly, moving a little to reveal more of herself to him as the
velvet cloth slipped as if by accident.
Duo
frowned and looked around the room, spotting a discarded red hat with white
trim in a corner near the boxes that contained their Christmas knick-knacks.
Hell, if Barton’s kid could get away with the hat, certainly he could. He pulled the bright red chapeau over his
chestnut locks and stalked over to Hilde.
“Ho
ho ho, what have we here? Have you been
a good girl this year,” he bellowed, as Hilde snickered at a Santa she could
never have imagined as a child. She
definitely preferred this incarnation of Good Saint Nick, complete with silly
red hat, long brown braid, disheveled tuxedo and the most enchanting violet
eyes she had ever seen.
Santa
Duo sat down in the rocker near the tree and Hilde clambered up on his lap,
carefully maintaining her hold on the red velvet covering.
“What
do you want for Christmas this year, little girl,” Duo said, getting into his
part as his hands tried to loosen her grip on the red velvet sheathe.
She
whispered in his ear, letting her teeth nip playfully at his earlobe. Santa
felt about ready to grant her every wish as she squirmed teasingly on his lap.
“Well
Santa,” she persisted. “You know I have
been very, very good this year and if you say no I’ll be very, very naughty!”
“Okay
you got me,” Duo said. “Let the
babymaking commence!”
“Hurrah,”
Hilde shouted, pulling Cathrine’s sprig of mistletoe from behind her back and
holding it over Santa Duo’s head.
“Just
promise me one thing,” he whispered softly as she leaned close to kiss him.
“What’s
that love,” Hilde whispered back gently.
“You
won’t make me take care of the poopsies,” he said, grinning evilly. Tonight was the definitely the night for
hard bargaining.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Despite
a frantic but fruitless search for the cherished blanket and a few minor
interruptions by young Master Barton, Trowa and Midii had finally spent a
blissful evening of rediscovery.
Midii
lay drowsily in the darkness, her head pillowed on Trowa’s lap. The achingly sweet notes of his
softly-played flute seemed to hang in the air above them as if they were
delicate spun-glass ornaments that she could touch.
Greensleeves,
so old, yet timeless, the beauty of it made her heart ache with a longing to
capture this moment in a brightly wrapped package forever. The lyrics floated just outside her
consciousness as she let the music caress her.
The tune faltered momentarily as Trowa smiled in anticipation of her
inevitable reaction, picking up on secret codes and hidden messages being her
second nature.
Alas
my love you do me wrong to cast me out discourteously and I have lovéd you so
long delighting in your company . . .
Time-worn
words of despairing and all-consuming love surfaced in her memory and she
pulled herself from the edges of sleep and sat up.
“Oh
Trowa! I’m so sorry about the past few
months. I love you so much but I don’t
know how you can love me. No matter how
hard I always try I end up hurting you some how.”
“That
is a good question,” he said teasingly as she took the flute from his hand and
snuggled against his back. “You were
rather obnoxious when I first met you.”
“Trowaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Midii protested. “I was never obnoxious!”
He
peered over his shoulder at her and she relaxed, sensing he was only
teasing. “You were pretty hard on me,
always keeping me on edge, being so sweet one moment then telling me you didn’t
like me the next. What a cute little
thing you were.”
She
let her hands rub his back comfortingly as she kissed his neck. “I always loved you, you know that,” she
whispered.
“It’s
hard to get used to, having a home, loving you and Cathy and Nicolas,” he
admitted, pulling on her arms gently until she was sitting cuddled in his
lap. “I keep thinking you might change
your mind.”
“Never,”
Midii said, holding on tight. “You’re
stuck with me and Nicolas too. Always.”
He
held her close stroking her hair, feeling her arms tight around him in the
darkness. Far away and at first almost
too softly to be heard, lonely, unhappy whimpers broke the silence, quickly
becoming louder and more irritated with amazing speed.
“Hmm,
I think ‘What Child Is This?’ would have been the more appropriate lyrics for
this occasion, but you always go for the more obscure reference,” Trowa said
softly.
“Not
appropriate,” Midii groaned in resignation, preparing to leave the comfort of
warm husband, warm covers and cozy bed.
“When does our child ever ‘lay to rest?’”
Trowa
pushed her back with a wry smile. “I’ll
get him,” he offered, quickly returning with a wide-awake Nicolas, who gurgled
happily at the sight of his mother when Midii turned on the dim bedside light.
She
held her son close and looked at Trowa over the top of the baby’s soft strawberry
blonde hair.
“I
never want Nicolas to be poor and hungry or lost and alone, like we were,” she
said, her eyes sparkling with tears. “I
think that’s why I love him like I do, I don’t want those things to happen to
him. I want to always be there when he
needs me.” She snuggled in the
comforting strength of Trowa’s arms as he held her until the baby let out a
squeal of protest at being squeezed.
They
laughed at his little outraged face despite the serious mood. Nicolas, happy with the attention and
wanting more, lunged forward with the carefree bravery of the very young and
grabbed handfuls of his father’s bangs in both hands and yelled victoriously.
“I
think it won’t be long until he can take care of himself,” Trowa said,
painfully trying to disentangle himself from the baby’s grip. “We just have to worry about the rest of the
world. Two years of peace already. It’s something to be proud of but we have to
keep protecting it for him.”
“And
for us,” Midii said, before they drifted off to sleep.
::the
end::
AN: Luckily I only get sappy once a year
-_-; Merry Xmas ^_^