AN: An atmospheric PWP piece. 3xMU, in case anyone was wondering. Nothing but a thinly veiled excuse for a bit of blatant Trowa worship ^_~. The word Psyche is pronounced (SY-KEE), inspired by the mythological story of Psyche and Cupid. I would like to give special thanks to the Mistress of Death for her invaluable help with this story.

Also please bear with me for two important announcements!

As of February 14 my Trowa and Midii shrine will have a new address: The Spy and The Silencer

or http://www.geocities.com/spysilencer/main.html

Also, to Author Alert readers, Chapters 6 and 7 of The Price of Redemption are now available at ff.net! Please review!?!?!?

Codename: Psyche

A Valentine’s Day fic by Midii Une

(with Lemon-Aid by the Mistress of Death!)

The man on the bed drew her towards him like a magnet; his body’s heat seemed to beckon her nearer. Made her want to touch, but she didn’t dare. The gleam of ambient light on his sculpted torso made her wish desperately for a clearer view, but that was impossible. She would see him then, but he would also see her.

She forced herself to take even, silent breaths although her heart and lungs were near to bursting with the force of her emotions: love, pain, desire, regret.

So she held her own breath and listened to his breathing. The slow and steady respiration bringing a measure of calm to her aching heart.

Nanashi.

She knew the eyes behind his drooping lids were as brilliant and glittering as the rarest emeralds. But his eyes were even more beautiful than the green gemstones and they were alive. Alive with suspicion and an indefinable emotion—was it hate? Had he even recognized her tonight? Yes, she knew that he had. She’d followed him here and waited until she was sure he must be asleep and entered the room on silent feet. Just to look . . .to see his face again.

She unconsciously moved closer, breathing in his unique, musky fragrance. Her heart skipped a beat as he moved suddenly, struggling with the sheet that covered him and flinging his arm up restlessly as he tossed, turned and finally lay still again, embracing his pillow.

She swallowed nervously, her shining, blue-gray eyes sparkling softly in the starlit room. The tiny sound she made not disturbing the sleeper within its walls. His restless movements exposing more of him to her than she had seen before as he pushed away the sheets. To him the late winter night was relatively warm with the promise of coming spring.

Was it a dream or a continuation of the night, Trowa wondered sleepily, as he moved between sleep cycles from the minute awareness of a light doze to the heavy unconsciousness of the dreaming state.

He was there again, the crowded room, the party Cathy had insisted on dragging him to.

“It’s Valentine’s Day little brother,” she teased. Her teasing smile fading as she watched his expressionless face. The distance he maintained from life, from people made her ache for him and he was sorry for it. He didn’t even feel the lack anymore. Didn’t see the sad state he was in, but Cathrine did.

She tried to make him feel, tried to make him a part of things. Cathy tried to infect him with her joie de vivre. And sometimes he let her try, if only to make her happy.

That was why he was there, leaning against a wall, arms folded to ward off the approach of strangers. Even though he heard them and they brushed against him occasionally, Trowa was alone.

It was a crazy party and Cathrine was having a marvelous time. It was a genuine Bacchanalia; girls in costume with garlands in their hair, the wine flowing freely and men on the lookout for that special someone to be their Valentine for the evening. How glad she was that she had come, she thought, as she sensed the warm admiring gaze of a stranger.

Trowa caught sight of his sister and felt a small stab of envy; she was a part of life as he never could be. He had lived through abandonment and the horrors of war but always been closed off from life itself. This was his armor and his shield, not the Gundanium hulk called HeavyArms. And he had been ready to end the life he held so cheaply, his own, as payment for peace. The duty of a soldier, he told himself, and he had been a soldier since he was born. It was all he remembered.

After a time soft, childish laughter, as innocent and joyous as the bubbling of a brook over small rocks, broke through Trowa’s self-imposed wall of solitude. Its sweet, bell-like sound could be heard clearly over the buzz of noise and music. The sound dredged up a long-forgotten memory, a feeling of rare happiness and belonging. Love. He raised his eyes from the floor, somewhere in his past he’d heard it before, he was certain. The calmly measured beat of his heart increased a little, though he didn’t really know why.

Gauzy wings brushed against him suddenly and a swirl of wavy blonde hair caught his eye. She filled his vision, a smiling girl with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. A tinsel halo was perched crookedly on her moonlight-colored hair and the pair of transparent fairy wings attached to the shoulders of her silvery dress were bent and broken from contact with the crowd of people. She seemed as delicate as her costume, as if she wasn’t meant for such a place as this. He should have found her in a forest, he thought. She was unearthly and fragile; she belonged beneath a full moon with the scent of pine and the night air surrounding her. He failed to notice his uncharacteristic interest in another person. She instantly fascinated him to the point that in the room full of people the only one he saw was her.

Their eyes met and hers widened, taking him in and in that glance Trowa believed he’d found his soul. A soul he hadn’t even known was missing. His gaze locked with hers, her eyes two peaceful pools of cool blue water.

Then the fairy, as she seemed to Trowa to be, whirled swiftly. She was startled out of her enchanted reverie as an accented voice called to her out of the babble of voices.

“Midii? Midii, where are you hiding?”

Midii.

Trowa recognized the name and memories engulfed him. Reality jolted him out of the moment. And he remembered finding this same faerie-like girl in the woods so long ago. She had brought destruction and pain with her. And yet, he had felt this same bond with her, even then. A tumult of emotions made him turn away for a moment. He missed seeing the hurt look of deep disappointment on her face as he broke their almost magical connection.

When he turned back to face her she was gone, lost again in the crowd. No words spoken between them, no way to bring her back. Nothing more than a shared glance between two strangers in a crowd. Did he even want to see her again? Had she even really been there at all? Trowa didn’t know. But his usual stoic front was shaken deeply, the safe perimeters he had set up around himself cracked and broken by her sudden reappearance in his life.

And now, unbidden, his dreams had conjured her back, as if she was in the very room with him. The whisper of her gauzy wings, the flowery scent of her shining hair, the soft sound of her breathing proclaiming her presence in his room. He felt her nearness, the alien sensation of another close to him, close enough that the slightest movement from him or her would bring them into contact. She gazed at him longingly, the starlight shining on her hair, her delicate face, her silvery dress and the sad little broken wings.

His eyelids fluttered. Was she really here? If he opened his eyes would he see her gazing down on him with love and sorrow in her crystal blue eyes?

Midii drew her breath sharply as his eyelids fluttered. She should turn and run, disappear as silently as she had come but her feet felt fastened to the floor, as if a spell had been cast over her. Instead, she leaned closer and locks of her long, pale hair slid forward, brushing over Nanashi’s form like a whisper, the softest of caresses.

His eyes opened and she gasped as she gazed into the sleep-glazed windows to his broken soul. She felt the sensation of his fingers gently closing around the strands of her hair and she jerked her head, her hair sliding easily from his grasp as she turned and silently disappeared before he could even realize whether he was awake or still dreaming. By the time Trowa had scrambled from bed and the tangle of sheets to yank the door open she had disappeared, melted into the night.

For days Midii debated with herself and gathered her courage to return. She promised herself she would be more careful, wouldn’t get as close. But she had to see him again. He pulled her back, the desire so strong that common sense was easily ignored. The visions of him in her dreams were not enough, not nearly enough. She ached to be in the room with him to capture his sleeping form with her eyes, to be near him even if he did not know she was there.

Your plan is so foolish, she scolded herself mentally. He had seen her that night, their gazes had met and held for a matter of seconds. How could she get away with another clandestine visit? It would be nearly impossible. But the temptation was too strong and how long he would remain here, nearby, she did not know. The thought of his leaving twisted like a knife in her heart, she had to go back.

So again, after several nights had passed and Trowa was exhausted from waiting for the apparition he had seen to return again, a slender, black-clothed girl slipped in through a window and made her way back to where he slept.

The days of abstinence made it too difficult to keep the vows she had made to herself and soon Midii was hovering over the bed, close enough to feel his breath on her cheek as she knelt on the floor and leaned her arms carefully on the mattress. There was no moon tonight but she could feel his presence there rather than see him with her eyes.

He seemed to be sleeping so quietly and deeply that she felt confident and daring . . .

The presence had returned and Trowa lay there drowsily feigning sleep. He felt no fear, wasn’t even certain that he wasn’t asleep and dreaming. She had returned at last, a peaceful feeling flooded his senses and he decided to let it play out and wait to see what she would do.

After a time he felt a delicate touch as her fingers entwined with his. He forced himself to keep still, concentrated on maintaining his breathing as her fingers caressed his. She sighed softly, a contented sound that made his heart pound and almost made it impossible to maintain his deception. She laid her head down on the mattress beside his shoulder, his senses pinpointing on the silky feel of her hair against his bare skin.

He pulled his hand from hers, moving as if in sleep, and he let the back of his hand rest tenderly on the smooth curve of her cheek. He felt her quick, indrawn breath as she held herself tensely and still as a statue. Finally she relaxed and moved her face against his hand in the darkness.

Trowa opened his eyes, seeing only the pale gleam of her hair in the deep, darkness of the room.

Midii, he whispered.

She was still again, he could feel her fear and then she relaxed again as his fingers moved to twine themselves in her hair.

He heard my name, he is dreaming of me, she told herself, a happy smile playing on her lips. In the darkness she couldn’t see that he was looking at her. She stayed beside him as long as she dared, then carefully pulled away, daring to brush her cool, slender fingers across the taut skin over his cheekbone before she left.

Trowa slid out of bed and went to the window, watching after the departing figure, her golden hair gleaming over the tight black silk turtleneck and form-fitting black jeans she wore. She wasn’t a dream, not an apparition. She was real and this was insane.

He wanted her to come again.

Would it ever be over for his poor sister, Michel Une wondered as he gazed down at her as she slept exhausted on the sofa with dark circles under her eyes. She was asleep at last, for days she had been struggling with insomnia and strange fits of nervousness that appalled him. It hurt him all the more because she had seemed so much better lately, there had been joy in her eyes again and the occasional sound of her girlish laughter.

But things had changed since the damned party. The haunted look he hadn’t seen in years was back and he heard her prowling restlessly around the apartment at night. He reached to brush a strand of her platinum hair out of her face and she moved a little in her sleep, murmured a name.

Nanashi.

Michel’s sapphire eyes narrowed. So, it was that. Again. The word that was the symbol of all the horrors she had faced during that accursed war. All for love of them. He clenched his fists uselessly. He could think of no way to help her. He sighed, pulled a blanket from the closet to cover her with and turned out the light.

Nanashi. What did it mean, he wondered. Her voice had caressed the word as if it were a beloved name.

“Bon nuit, ma pauvre petite,” he whispered. She needed her sleep, he thought, maybe it would heal her, bring her back to herself. For although Midii was the older of the two Michel’s feelings toward her were those of an older brother or even a father now. If only he had been born first, for surely it was an accident of fate that his pale and delicate sister had been forced to carry all the responsibility for their little family on her fragile shoulders.

She slipped off her shoes when she stepped into the little, rented room, setting her bag on the counter and carefully avoiding the creaks in the old floor. It seemed that he slept more and more. As if he couldn’t wait to enter the realm of dreams.

He looked so sweet and peaceful, his arms outspread on the kitchen table and the barest glimpse of his face peeking out from under his hair. A maternal smile softened her pretty face as she reached out gently to brush her fingers through his thick, auburn hair.

Trowa jumped at her touch, instantly awake with an eager expression on his face that Cathrine had never seen before. It disappeared before she was even positive she’d seen the emotion in his eyes.

Concern tinged her features as she placed the palm of her hand flat against his forehead. Perfectly normal. She wasn’t surprised, Trowa never got sick. Still . . .

“I’m going to make you some soup,” she said.

Cathy was worried, Trowa knew. When she was worried she always made soup. He rose from the table and impatiently brushed the hair out of his eyes. It fell back in place again as if he’d never touched it.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Cathrine said conversationally as she dug in the cupboard for her favorite soup pot. “I was talking with the manager, he’s very disappointed in sales. Seems this colony isn’t that interested in the circus. I’ll be glad to move on again. And you Trowa? Are you ready to get out of here?”

No answer. Well that was normal for her brother, Cathrine thought as she started to heat the water. She heard the scrape of his chair and glanced over her shoulder. He was at the window again, gazing out intently with an unfathomable look in his gorgeous eyes. When he wasn’t sleeping or working he was constantly staring out the window. He’s waiting for something; she seemed to know that instinctively. But for what? Or who?

“Trowa,” she ventured softly. But he didn’t seem to hear her, all his attention consumed by the empty landscape outside.

Leave here, Trowa thought, not hearing Cathrine’s questioning voice. Leave her. Would she ever come back? What would she think to find him gone? But she wasn’t going to come again. It had been days. Perhaps it had all been only a dream after all, or perhaps he had moved to fast and frightened her away. But it had been so real, his heart insisted. His fingers tingled, remembering the brush of hers.

If I leave here now I lose any chance at ever gaining back my soul. The words ran over and over in his mind.

“WAIT!! Please WAIT,” she screamed hoarsely, coming awake with a start, hot tears welling in her eyes and finally overflowing to slip down her sleep-flushed cheeks.

He’sleavingme, he’sleavingme, he’sleavingme, she muttered, her words slurred together in her despair. Her voice childish, a memory from the past.

“Midii! Midii,” Michel called to her, shaking her slender shoulders and peering into her distant face.

Midii blinked and stared at her brother with sudden recognition. She flung herself into his strong arms and buried her face in the cotton shirt he wore, her tears soaking into the thirsty material as he held her comfortingly. She lifted her head a little to peer over his shoulder. The room was bright with sunlight.

“What happened,” she whispered. “What time is it?”

“It’s noon, petite cherie,” he answered soothingly. “You slept 18 hours. You were sound asleep when I came home for dinner last night. Are you feeling better now? Are you hungry?”

Better? Hungry? The words floated over her making no sense, having no meaning. She had slept too long. Her body had given in; exhaustion had claimed her at last. But tonight, tonight she promised herself she would see him again. It was just a dream she reassured herself, just a dream, the vision of him leaving. He’d be there tonight, in her mind’s eye she saw him sleeping like a young god. A god too perfect for her to dare to love. But she did. And when he was asleep she knew he loved her too. When the inhibitions of wakefulness were gone he thought of her.

He’d said her name.

What would happen if they met in the daytime at last, she wondered as she obediently picked at the omelet Michel had insisted on preparing for her. Would those eyes of his shine with love or would they gleam with hatred? She shivered a little, remembering the hypnotic beauty of those eyes and sipped her orange juice like a good little girl. Her brother loved her, she wanted him to stop worrying so she ate and drank and smiled for him. But all the time she was thinking about the darkness. Wishing for it to come on speedy wings.

So she could see him again.

At last it came, when it seemed she could bear the yearning pull to be with him no more it finally grew dark. And still she waited. Midnight finally came, her heart thudding inside her chest with anticipation and fear too. What if his sister woke up? What if he was still awake? What if he was gone . . .

Midii’s head appeared over the snug-fitting neck of the black silk turtleneck she wore on these bizarre excursions. Her blonde hair startling against the unrelieved black. She looked at herself in the mirror. This was crazy, breaking into his apartment to stare at him, worship him and leave with a touch. But she didn’t stop her preparations and before she knew it she was crouched beneath the window she had used to gain entrance twice before. The place was silent and dark. Almost as if it was uninhabited, as if it waited for its next tenant. Her pale face grew a shade whiter at the thought. No, it was her imagination. It was only that by now he had given up hope that she would come again. And that was what she wanted. She only wanted to look at him, be near him. She didn’t want him to know she was there. He was asleep, his sister was asleep. That was all. They could not be gone. Not yet.

She slid the window open and with a lithe and whisper-quiet movement vaulted herself into the empty room that they had had no use for. The perfect entry point for a determined secret visitor such as herself.

As she made her silent path through the now-familiar confines of the apartment she noticed small differences. All the personal items, mostly belonging to his sister, had been removed. She shook her head slightly, trying to ward off panic. But still she discarded caution then and ran to his bedroom, her steps audible as the floor creaked under her feet.

She flung open the door and what she saw made her fall to her knees, a whimper of pain and despair escaping her lips.

Gone.

He was gone. The bed nothing but a bare mattress in a patch of bright moonlight.

There were small footsteps in the dusting of snow beneath the window. His heart raced in anticipation, she had come this night, at last. His obsession with seeing her again was overwhelming and he’d felt almost suffocated when the show had been over and they’d gone home again to a new place. A place she couldn’t find him. Streaks of pink showed as dawn neared. But she was still inside; there were no exiting footsteps apparent in the snow.

He didn’t have a key anymore so he entered as she had, through the window she had left open, his breath showing white in the ice-cold, empty room. So quiet, a feeling of foreboding touched his heart with icy fingers as he crept from the room in the gray light. Had she gone away never to return? Had his absence driven her away forever? His eyes burned with an unfamiliar stinging at the thought. Almost as soon as he had left he realized his mistake and hurried back to this place. He felt again the sweet caress of her fingers on his face when he had seen her last.

Trowa caught his breath as his touch swung the door of his old room wide and he saw her there, curled up on the bare mattress. The pink light coming through the window cast a supernatural radiance over her, making the traces of tears on her pale cheeks shimmer. He could see the slight movement of her breathing as he caressed her black-clad figure with his eyes.

As he watched her sleep, slowly drawing nearer and nearer the empty place inside him disappeared. He had felt it before, when she was with him. A oneness with the rest of the world, he was a part of life with her beside him. He had a soul. He reached out his hand toward the sleeping girl . . .

She thought that she would simply lie there on the barren, empty mattress and sleep. She just wanted to sleep forever now that he was gone. She would stay here in the place where he’d once been and dream of him until she died. She knew now that she had always needed him, his love was what she had hungered for and desired from the first moment she’d seen him. The innocent love of a girl for a sad, yet strong and noble boy replaced now by the intense passion of a woman for a man. She needed his love to anchor her to this plane. Without it she was a shell that not even the love of a brother could keep alive.

The gods were kind she thought, as she felt again the touch of his fingers in her hair, the soft caress of his breath on her cheek. Kind but cruel. It could never be real. He was gone. She was alone. But the phantom Nanashi would not leave her alone with her pain. His hands moved gently along the curves of her body, his touch worshipful and wondering as he continued his exploration.

So real, his touch, the sound of his breathing and the weight of him on the mattress beside her. Midii was afraid if she opened her eyes he would disappear. This dream of him was so realistic that she could sense the brightness of day beyond her lids. She feared it would be as it had been in the old myth of Psyche and Cupid, should she open her eyes to see her lover he would be taken from her and yet she so desperately wanted to see his face, close to hers. She was torn between prolonging the dream and aching to know if he was really there beside her. Now his lips were brushing her cheek, his mouth opening and his tongue seeking to taste the salt of her tears. Then softly his lips found hers, the pressure grew more demanding as if he wanted her to wake up and meet his gaze.

She couldn’t deny him, she could never deny him. Slowly, fearfully she opened her eyes and peered through her black, silky lashes and saw his face close to hers, his eyes alert and waiting. Waiting for her. A quiver ran through her, a mixture of joy, desire, disbelief.

As she watched him beneath her lashes, Trowa slid his hand beneath the black silk turtleneck, the smooth fabric warm from the heat of her body, the skin beneath as soft as the material covering it, softer even. He pushed it up to reveal her pale skin and lowered his head to press his lips against her naked flesh and rub his face against her, reveling in the feel and smell of Midii.

A soft impatient sound escaped her throat and he felt her small hands press him closer and her arms tightening around him.

He pulled away slightly, to look down at her once more. He gathered a handful of her silky hair and wrapped it tightly around his wrist, tying her to him tangibly. His other hand stroked her face, tracing the delicate features, her eyes, closed again, her lips, soft and pliant, calling him.

Trowa whispered, "Midii...” as he leaned in to kiss her again, to taste those sweet lips. Midii was wide awake this time, as she met Trowa's questing lips, the reality of the situation started to ease the pain in her heart. Her instincts told her he wasn't going to leave her again, he was going to stay. Trowa, tasting the sweet flavor of Midii, realized as well that he was never going to leave again. He groaned softly as Midii's arms wrapped around his neck, pressing him closer, molding her body to his.

He tightened his arms around her as well, being this close with her once again after those nights in the darkness as he pretended to be asleep and suffered her whisper-soft touches was making his hormones race. It wasn't any easier for Midii, as her pulse pounded and desire raced through her body as their eyes met, affirming their love and need for each other. In the rosy light of the dawn time seemed suspended, their glance seemed a silent pledge to finish what they had started.

"Nanashi...” Midii whispered as Trowa moved her arms from around his neck, removing her turtleneck, worshiping her with his eyes, promising her a passion that made her knees weak and glad that she was on the bed because she would have surely fallen if she was standing. A shiver ran through her as he slid her black leggings from her legs leaving her vulnerable to the intense gaze of those emerald eyes. It was as if he removed her sins from her, every touch of his hands erasing the past, creating new memories for both of them.

A rush of intense feeling coursed through Trowa. Midii still didn’t even know his name but she loved him anyway, as he saw now she always had. There would be time enough later to tell her who he was, but this was not the time for words . . .

Trowa lay next to her, stretching out his body over hers, as Midii wrapped her arms back around his neck, bringing him back down to her, urging him to continue what he started.

Trowa complied, his lips first kissing her lips softly, then her chin, as his lips started to wind their way down her neck, his tongue flicking in the hollow near her collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from Midii.

Running a hand through Trowa's surprisingly soft hair, Midii squirmed as she felt his mouth latch on her right nipple, as his hand teased her left, making her arch off the bed. Her hand moved from his hair to his back, moving up and down as Trowa moved his mouth to the left side.

Concerned that Trowa was doing everything, Midii started to move her hands lower, but Trowa batted them away, whispering, "Just let me love you, Midii."

Curious at what Trowa was planning, Midii moaned when he moved his head lower and his tongue dipped in and out of her belly button, imitating the act that they were going to engage in later. She closed her eyes and surrendered, overwhelmed by the sensations he awakened in her body, almost doubting again that this could be more than some beautiful, erotic dream.

Putting Midii's legs on his shoulders, Trowa made sure she was holding on to him securely before he kissed her wetness, first merely drinking in her scent before applying his tongue to her spot, eliciting a scream as Midii felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over her.

Trowa continued, encouraged by her response, flicking her spot once again before moving to her entrance, his tongue thrusting in and out as Midii's legs tightened convulsively around his head, keeping him in place.

Tasting the essence of Midii, Trowa licked some of it up before moving his head, switching his position to where he was eye level with Midii, his eyes asking permission, as he was poised at her entrance. Midii nodded yes, that was all he needed before he thrust inside of her, moaning at the feel of her around him.

Trowa started to thrust, first slowly then faster as Midii moved with him, urging him on. Feeling his orgasm, Trowa held on, making sure Midii came first, screaming his name, before surrendering, joining Midii over the edge.

Propping himself above her, Trowa grinned with male satisfaction as he looked down at Midii, her face flushed and glowing with fulfillment, before his expression changed. Everything was changed now. He had Midii, he was no longer alone.

“Nanashi,” she whispered tentatively, seeming reluctant to break the enchantment of the moment, the peaceful afterglow of their spent passion. “Is this a dream?”

Her hand trailed softly over the sweat-slick muscles of his chest as if she felt to be sure he was real. Her sea-blue eyes bored into his eyes, seeking reassurance and his promise.

“No, it’s real,” he whispered, holding Midii to him tightly. “More real than anything I’ve ever known.”

She sighed contentedly and curled her body into his, nestling nearer in his arms, as if she could never be close enough. Trowa marveled at their closeness, the way her small frame fit perfectly in the curve of his body, like they were two pieces of a puzzle.

He rested his face on her hair, it was damp with perspiration from their exertions and the flowery smell of her shampoo engulfed his senses as he nuzzled his nose in the pale, silky mass of shining blonde waves. Could such happiness be real, he wondered, pondering her words. Trowa analyzed the situation, the war had been over for years but he had never thought beyond the present moment, never cared what the next day would bring.

But finding Midii again had changed everything. She was the present, she was his future. His happiness and his soul combined. He knew now that the emptiness inside him had been caused by her absence in his life, their time apart marked by pain and trials for both of them. His reached out a finger to trace the tender smile that curved her lips as she looked up at him. He smiled back.

Midii pressed her cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm. She twined her fingers with his and looked at their joined hands.

Now it was over and now it was beginning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So it all came to a most happy end. Love and the Soul (for that is what Psyche means) had sought and, after sore trials, found each other; and that union could never be broken. — excerpt from “Cupid and Psyche”, Mythology, by Edith Hamilton.