Author’s Notes/Warnings: This story is a collaborative effort by Midii Une and Maria Rocket. Bed of Lies contains angst, yaoi lemon and het lemon, and a rather different perspective on some of our favorite characters. Rated NC-17 for both sexual situations and adult content. It’s probably not for everyone but we hope those who do read this fic will take a moment to leave us a review.

Bed of Lies

Part 2

by Midii Une and Maria Rocket

Don’t you know I feel the darkness closing in

Tried to be more than me

And I gave ‘til it all went away

And we’ve only surrendered

To the worst part of

these winters we’ve made

--Bed of Lies, lyrics by Rob Thomas

*~*~*~Five Years Later~*~*~*

Quatre stared at the mural in the daycare center of one his numerous resource satellites. He felt pulled into it, drawn to the warmth of the rendered sunlight and touched by the soft, wistful rainbow that flooded the room with light and color.

The director noticed his admiring gaze.

“Wonderful isn’t it,” the woman said. “One of the young mothers painted it in her spare time. She grew up on Earth and she said she wanted her little boy to know what it was like. All the children simply adore it, it’s like it’s always a beautiful spring day in here. You can almost hear birds chirping and smell apple blossoms when you look at it.”

This girl had talent, Quatre thought. He had a deep appreciation for music and art, all things beautiful in fact. His eyes grew liquid and shone brighter because these things always made him think of Trowa. He’d ask him to play the flute for him tonight when he got back to the hotel. He played so beautifully and his emotions, feelings usually hidden, came out in the music. He reluctantly forced his attention back to the daycare director. She was a valuable employee. This place was a model center for all the resource satellites and he was supposed to be listening to her report.

“I’d love to meet this girl,” he told her. “Perhaps we can commission her to do some work like this at the other centers sponsored by Winner Industries.”

“She’ll be here soon to pick up her son,” the woman said, glancing at the clock above the door. “That’s him over there. He’s such a beautiful child. I’ve never seen such incredible eyes. I know we shouldn’t have favorites but there is something about Nanashi Une, all of us here just adore that little boy.”

“Nanashi,” Quatre said, the word causing a reaction far back in his mind. “But doesn’t that mean no-name?”

The daycare director sighed. “You know how these artistic types are. Very whimsical. I do think it bothers the little one sometimes, once in awhile the other children tease him but we always put a stop to it. I mentioned it to Miss Une once but she ignored me, it was like she just looked through me.”

Quatre barely heard the woman because his attention had been caught by the little blonde boy playing quietly, alone, near the mural. It seemed like he was sitting under a tree in a sunny park. The illusion created by the mural was stunning. As if he knew someone was watching him the child looked up. The boy’s unruly, pale-blonde bangs only partially hid his eyes but Quatre could still see that they were green. Incredible eyes.

Trowa’s eyes.

Nanashi.

He moved toward the little boy, wanting a closer look, tears starting to fill his own soft aquamarine eyes. That was Trowa’s child, somehow it was.

“Stay away from my son,” a soft, alarmed voice said and a slender woman, not much more than a girl, darted past him and hurried to the boy’s side. She hid the boy in the circle of her arms, pressing him protectively against her.

Quatre studied her even though it hurt him to see her at last. She had to be the woman he had shared Trowa with for a time. The long silky blonde hair falling in waves nearly to her waist. Her small figure was slender but curved in all the right places. She wore tight black leather pants and a vivid blue silk blouse that fit snugly across her small, perfect breasts. The lovely face as delicately sculptured as that of a Greek goddess.

Now that he saw her the reality of her and Trowa together struck him like a dagger in the heart. He’d never really given it much thought before. Trowa doing with her the things the two of them did together. Making love to her, touching her. He found himself looking into her eyes, the eyes Trowa had looked into when they made love. Her large, frightened blue-gray eyes staring back at him. Frightened and full of hatred. Hatred directed at him.

She was Midii Une. Trowa’s ex-lover. The one who had never stopped haunting him. Quatre had been sure she must be dead although he’d never said so to Trowa. They’d never been able to find any trace of her. And yet, here she was, one of his own employees. One of the many people who worked in his vast empire, one of almost too many to count. Her beauty troubled him and her hatred hurt him. He’d never want to cause anyone pain. Not even her.

Nanashi, Trowa’s son, looked at him from behind the sheltering curtain of his mother’s hair. The face he wore was the mask Trowa had always worn in battle. Single-minded, determined and coldly professional. His little hand stroked his mother’s soft hair comfortingly.

“Don’t cry Mama,” the child said to her, the voice as calm and sure as that of an adult. But his eyes, Trowa’s eyes, were on Quatre, leveling a threat of retaliation if he dared to hurt his beloved mother. “I’ll take care of you.”

The slight young woman picked her son up in her arms and started to back out of the room, her eyes never leaving Quatre’s.

She jumped visibly as the daycare director touched her arm and spoke to her.

“Really, Miss Une there’s no reason to be upset. This is Mr. Winner, the president of Winner Industries,” she said soothingly.

For all her talent and the obvious love she had for her child she found Miss Une to be a very strange and eccentric girl. It was a shame that she was acting like this in front of Mr. Winner. She’d thought he might have taken an interest in starting her off in a career in art. Her talent really was extraordinary and he hadn’t seemed to be unaffected by it.

“I’m fully aware who he is,” Midii said, her voice dripping with hurt and anger. She couldn’t believe this was happening. What better place to hide herself she’d thought, than right under their noses? And Winner Industries was the best place to work in outer space, the best pay, the best benefits and most important of all the best child care available. And she wanted only the best for her sweet little son, her everything, her whole world.

Why had he had to come here to this remote outpost of his empire? Now they would have to leave, run away and hide somewhere else. Because her son was hers, only hers and she would never share him. Not with Trowa Barton and his lover, not with anyone.

Her anger erupted as she looked at Quatre over the top of Nanashi’s head. “Haven’t you taken enough away from me? I hate you,” she said in a low, venomous tone, turning on her heel and leaving the room, slamming the door with such force that cracks appeared in the glass.

The daycare director was aghast. “Mr. Winner,” she began to say. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why--”

Quatre wasn’t listening, he’d gone after Midii and her son. He caught up to her easily, she couldn’t go fast, carrying the heavy four-year-old.

“Please wait,” he said grabbing her arm and looking down into her tear-streaked face, stealing glances at the boy, the boy so much like Trowa. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to call Trowa, you have to tell him you’re alive and you have to tell him about the little boy. He needs a father and he needs a name. Why are you doing this to him? Why are you doing this to Trowa? I know he never meant to hurt you.”

“No, you can’t do that,” Midii gasped, her voice trembling. “You can’t. Please, he’s all I have and I can’t face Trowa, I just can’t. How can you know what it’s like? He loves you, not me. Isn’t that enough for you? Leave me alone. Leave us alone. Please don’t do this to me.”

She collapsed on the floor of the hallway, sobbing heartbrokenly as the little boy stood beside her looking down on her with his small heart in his eyes. Quatre could see that Nanashi loved his mother, her love was all the child had ever known.

The boy looked at Quatre with his father’s eyes. “You’ve made her cry,” he said softly, staring at the man. His mother often cried, almost every night in fact, but not like this and never during the day, here in the place where she worked.

It was strange, but Quatre felt like he had to explain himself to this boy. “I’m not going to hurt your mother,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I want to help her, help you. Wouldn’t you like to see your father?”

Midii choked back a startled cry and put her hand on Nanashi’s arm.

The child looked at the floor and thought a moment.

“No,” he said simply, although part of him was curious, all the other children had fathers. He only had Mama, she told him everyday how much she loved him and that he was all she had. If he met his father he might take him away from her and then Mama might be alone. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. He loved her with all his small being. He wished she wasn’t so sad deep inside, as young as he was, he knew that that was wrong, not normal somehow. But still he loved her, knew he had to protect her.

Quatre was torn. Like the child he could tell immediately that there was something wrong with her, as if she were teetering on the edge of sanity and the only thing holding her to the world of reality was the little boy.

Allah, what was he going to do? He stared at the two of them. Why hadn’t Trowa been the one to find them? He knew he was being a coward but even though the right choice was so obvious he didn’t know what to do.

Finally he did the only thing he could do, in the face of her desperate reaction, he made a deal with her. For the time being he wouldn’t tell Trowa. But she had to stay here and let him keep an eye on the child. She’d agreed, she really had no choice and when her tears dried he was rewarded by a shy smile and a glance of curiosity from the little boy.

Quatre huddled himself down, it was strange, he’d never had to try make himself seem less threatening before. “I’ll be back soon,” he said to the boy. “I’m going to take care of you and your Mom now. If that’s okay with you?”

Nanashi nodded. He knew he was too little to take care of her as he wished he could. The man’s blue eyes seemed nice and friendly and he wanted to trust him, even though his mother seemed to be afraid of him.

*********

Quatre pushed through the transparent veils of the dream world. The troubled thoughts and confused feelings that had been coursing through him in the past few days manifesting themselves in nightmares and resentment against Trowa for putting him in this predicament combined with an unfamiliar sense of insecurity.

He’d always been so sure of Trowa’s urgent need for him, certain of his desire and secure in his love. But now he was afraid for the first time since the war and Trowa’s disappearance. Quatre was afraid.

In his dream he could barely see Trowa far off and hidden by the layers of transparent curtains, see the slight movements. The fabric moved aside easily at a touch of his hand but there were so many layers, so much between them. The barriers were feather-light and vague but they kept them apart so effectively. Every time Quatre moved one curtain aside it seemed to be replaced by another so that he could never get any closer.

A blast of frigid air swirled, moving the light fabric in an eerie dance making it even more difficult to get closer. Frustration and anger welled up in his gentle soul until suddenly he was outside the dream world looking in, couldn’t feel the fabric, could only look senselessly and unfeelingly. Relief flooded and soothed his soul as someone appeared in the circle with Trowa. Himself? A gleam of soft platinum hair and the sensuous movement of Trowa’s hand to let his fingers glide over the figure’s skin. Quatre could feel again, feel the touch of Trowa’s skin on his, feel the pressure of his hands as he pulled him against him, the hard powerful muscles under Trowa’s skin tightening as he held him close and secure starting a delicious ache in his very soul. He closed his eyes but the feel of Trowa disappeared instantly and he was outside again, looking in. The veils were gone and he was back in a cluttered, musty apartment he’d seen once before. Trowa was laying back on that unfamiliar, narrow bed, his chest naked, perspiration gleaming on his sculptured chest. His arms reached out and he saw the girl climb into them, Trowa’s arms closing around her. The two of them . . .

Quatre sat up eyes wide, breathing hard.

“What’s wrong,” Trowa muttered drowsily, automatically reaching out sleepily, his hand seeking his husband. The skin it touched was burning. "Quatre?"

In the dark, Quatre fell onto Trowa, holding him tightly. "You do love me, don't you?" He whispered fervently against his neck, moving his fingers through thick hair.

"You know I do," Trowa answered softly as he rubbed his back. "What brought this on? A bad dream?"

Quatre didn't answer. Instead, he sat up, straddling Trowa. Nimble fingers caressed and traced Trowa's chest. Quatre rocked gently against him, until he heard Trowa breathing rapidly, his hands on his thighs, wordlessly begging him.

Lifting himself on his knees, Quatre found the point of Trowa's desire. With a groan torn from his lips, he plunged his hips down and claimed it. There was a moan of pleasure, and he felt Trowa's hips rise to meet him. After a moment, he heard Trowa say something in concern, but he didn't care. He didn't care how much it hurt. He would take all of Trowa within him, the pleasure and the pain. He needed to have all of it.

With a soft grunt, he threw back his head as he made love to Trowa with a slow rise and fall of his body. His eyes half closed, listening to his love's passionate cries, and feeling the trembling body moving urgently beneath him.

Had Midii heard Trowa make that kind of music, Quatre found himself wondering in the midst of his ecstasy. Had Midii felt Trowa quiver this way when she was where he was now? Did she feel this heat, the stickiness of Trowa's skin beneath her fingers? The incredible pounding of his heart in his chest?

Then Trowa's hands were tight on his hips, holding him as he arched his back, driving himself into Quatre with a shout. Quatre felt his eyes glaze over. Had Midii felt Trowa explode inside of her, pouring the very essence of his soul into her, shaking her into oblivion? Convulsing, Quatre's own back arched, his legs pulled up, and he gave a shuddering groan as his world crashed into a vortex of joy and pleasure.

*********

A canopy of green, every shade of green. Sparkling drops of rain seemed about to fall from the lacy pattern of leaves, the tiny diamond-like drops shining in the bright sun.

Trowa looked at the painting, hanging behind Quatre’s desk. It was as if he’d been in the picture before, sometime in his past. A memory stirred.

It had been raining relentlessly for days, they’d been stuck in those trucks endlessly, eating and sleeping in them, the torrential storms keeping them trapped in a muddy morass. The heavy equipment and weaponry they carried bogging them down. He’d awoken one morning to the almost-forgotten sensation of sun in his eyes, pouring in through the dirt-splattered windows. Midii was already awake, kneeling up on the seat of the truck, face pressed to the window, the sun shining over her in cascades of light and giving her an unreal quality. She’d turned to him and flashed a rare grin, pulling on his hand. They’d run out sloshing in the mud. He could still see her wondering gaze as she looked up at that green cover of leaves, each one shimmering with fat raindrops.

The painting was a marvel, full of realistic and wonderful beauty. A moment in time captured on canvas. But he couldn’t look at it any more, it haunted him with painful reminders of Midii. As if he could forget. He wished Quatre would give up on his new obsession with this particular artist. The paintings were too real and somehow they seemed aimed at him, dredging up old memories that he wished would stay buried. There was no way to explain it to Quatre, he could hardly explain it himself. He turned his back on the painting, but in his mind he still knew it was there. They were everywhere, in Quatre’s office, in the halls, even in their bedroom.

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

The studio atop the Winner Industries headquarters in the L4 cluster was cold, the chilly air from the upper atmosphere of the colony poured in the open window and the woman’s long pale hair blew back and twisted around her slender figure.

The sheer white curtains she favored to filter the light when she painted blew back in the strong breeze wrapping around her at times like a caress. Unheeded tears streaked her face . . . he was so close and all she had to do was reach out, run to find him.

“But I can’t,” she whispered to herself. “He doesn’t want me . . .”

Quatre pushed the door of the studio open, he was immediately struck by how cold it was in there. Cold and silent. A huge canvas beckoned. A deep blue waterfall, the water churning, relentlessly pouring over a cliff. The illusion of sunlight sparkled on the water, so real he could almost touch it. The cold room made him feel the sensation of the mist that came off the water. Water as turbulent as the eyes in the dream.

Something, not even enough to be called a sound, drew him around the corner of the wall and he brushed his hand over his eyes. It was so much like the nightmare, the curtains blowing and his feet like lead, unable to move.

She was going to jump.

Suddenly he was beside her his hands tight on her arms, pulling her back. Midii’s eyes moved over him and when she recognized who it was they turned blank and distant as they had been when she looked out, unseeing, over the colony.

“It’s not what you think,” she said finally, as his hands stayed in place on her arms. “Let go.”

“Tell me what it was exactly,” he answered, infinitesimally tightening his grip as if he feared she would dart away from him and do something drastic.

“The paint fumes, of course,” she said, desperately trying to make her voice assume a tone of normality, forcing herself to sound matter-of-fact. “I just needed some air, I got too close I suppose . . . I just started thinking . . .”

Her words trailed off in a sob and Quatre felt her collapse like a house of cards. He reached over and slammed the window shut then pulled her unresisting form against his, whispering incoherent soothing sounds. Part of him wondered exactly whom he was trying to comfort. Her or himself. She felt familiar in his arms, the cool smooth texture of her skin, like an aftershock from the vivid dreams of her. He remembered the feeling of soft, pliant lips beneath his own, opening his eyes to see hers so close. Was this moment only another nightmare as well, horrible and wonderful at the same time. She shivered in his arms, he knew she was cold but the quiver that ran through her body was similar to a response to passion, desire. Like visions parts of the previous night’s dream played in his head. Himself and Trowa. Trowa and Midii. Himself and Midii.

Midii’s hands seemed to move by themselves. She was so lonely and this might be as close as she ever got to Trowa again. Quatre was the one Trowa loved. Why him? Why not her? Her fingers moved almost wonderingly over the lines of Quatre’s face, looking for the answers. Their eyes clashed both of them looking for the same answers to the same question.

Why does Trowa love you, want you?

She remained maddeningly cool, so passive, not resisting him but not encouraging him either, although those eyes of hers remained fixed on his with desperate curiosity as he lowered her carefully down on a mound of paint-stained drop cloths. And then finally, something, he pressed his lips to her throat and she moved beneath him, he heard her sigh and her eyes closed and she arched her body against his. He buried his hands in her long soft hair, reveling in the silken glory of it. Everything about her so soft, so fragile and even as he burned her skin stayed so cool. She was like an oasis in the desert, eyes like that shallow blue water, the feel of her as wonderful as stepping into the shade after being in the hot sun.

“I hate you Quatre, I hate you,” she thought as he moved against her, in her. Now he had everything that belonged to her, even her body. But it had been so long, so long since anyone had touched her this way, that soon she closed her eyes and surrendered to the feelings the hot touch of his hands aroused in her, moving softly, exploring her, making her his.

******

As he walked towards the front steps of his estate, Quatre suddenly changed his mind and swerved onto a side pathway. He was already hours late coming home, a few more minutes wouldn't matter. Besides, the household was used to him working late. Wandering into the estate gardens, he stayed to the shadows,

stepping out of reach of the glow of lamplight. The air was warm, even during the colony's night cycle, but a slight breeze caressed his hair.

Footsteps approached behind him, but he did not stop to turn around. With a sinking in his heart, he already knew who was there. Every day it was harder to face him. He didn't stop until a familiar pair of strong arms caught him and pulled him back snugly against a warm, hard body. He felt the tickle of breath

on his cheek as his captor kissed him there. Quatre closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

"Trowa."

"You weren't at work today. I was starting to get worried when you didn't come home. Where have you been, Quatre?"

"I... How did you know I wasn't at work?" Quatre opened his eyes a little.

"I decided to pay you a visit today, since you've been so overworked lately. But when I got there, the secretary said you left early."

Quatre swallowed and nodded. "Business appointment across town. It was a spur of the moment thing."

"Oh... Well, we'd better be getting inside now."

"Not yet. I want to walk a while." Quatre looked up as Trowa's arms slid around him as the taller man turned to stand beside him. Curiosity and worry lit those forest green eyes from within. They reminded him...

Of those same eyes, on a smaller, softer face. The face he looked into when he felt a sharp tug on his slacks. Quatre looked down at little Nanashi and smiled. "There you are. Ready to go home now?"

The boy nodded. He was clutching a collection of newsprint papers in his small hands. "Are you going to stay over with me and Mommy tonight?"

"I don't know..." Quatre replied uncertainly as he took the boy's hand to lead him out of the daycare center.

"Please?" Nanashi begged.

“I think your mommy might want to have some time with just you and her. Hey, what do you have there?"

"Pictures. I drew a pony, a shuttle, and a clown."

A clown.

Quatre felt a hitch in his chest, and he winced slightly. He glanced down, hoping the boy hadn't noticed. He smiled weakly. "You're going to be an artist like your mom, aren't you? Will you show me your pictures when we get you home?"

Nanashi nodded. "I've got new crayons too. Shiny ones. You could see them if you stayed at my house tonight."

"Ah, now I'll have to seriously consider your offer," Quatre laughed, struggling to keep the eager boy from running out of his grasp. There was nothing the head of the Winner Corporation could do to prevent himself from being effectively dragged away.

"Quatre?"

The blonde snapped back to the present at the sound of Trowa's voice. He lifted his brows slightly. "Yeah, Trowa?"

"Didn't look like you were seeing me for a minute there." As Quatre started wandering off on the path, Trowa fell into step beside him. He wrapped an arm around Quatre's shoulders, and the weary blonde leaned into him as they walked, tucking an arm around his waist. Quatre didn't speak any further, all he

wanted was a little bit of peace.

******

Midii dropped the glass she was holding and it shattered on the hard ceramic floor. She heard the happy voice of her son mixed with Quatre’s voice in the other room. The sound infuriated her and her hands shook with irrational jealousy as she struggled with the roll of packing tape she held. Finally she ripped off a length and slapped it onto the box, smoothing it down with her hands.

Things had gone far enough, already Nanashi asked for him if a day went by without a visit. And that wasn’t all he wanted. He took advantage of her loneliness and her natural hunger for adult companionship. He could be the perfect companion and spend hours with her over an art book. He knew instinctively what she would like and could discuss old masters, techniques and new processes with her to her heart’s content. And then naturally there he would be at the end of the evening with Nanashi sound asleep in bed, right there beside her when she was loneliest and most vulnerable. She shivered thinking of those endless aquamarine eyes watching her, trying to see deep inside her secret places.

When she looked up from her reverie those eyes were staring at her.

“What are you doing, Midii,” Quatre asked, his gaze taking in the confusion in the little house. Boxes and paper and clothes everywhere.

“Leaving,” she said, moving around the table and keeping the box between them. “I can’t stay here where Trowa is. He might see me again, he might see Nanashi. I’m leaving.” Her voice faltered, “I can’t bear to be near him.”

Quatre took her hand. “I’ll find somewhere else, we’ll work it out. Just wait, give me time to think,” he said.

Midii pulled her hand away. “No,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want your help anymore. I don’t need it. I’m going back to Earth, I’ve gotten a job with Global Conglomerate’s design department. I have an offer from Davydd Morrigan, you introduced us, remember? Our agreement is over. You’ll never tell Trowa about Nanashi and me, I know that now. You can’t make me stay here anymore.”

*******

It was the best thing, really it was, he tried to convince himself of that. Now he could concentrate on Trowa, try to forget the whole strange episode had ever occurred. It should be easy now to find the peace he had been seeking for so long, the peace that had deserted him the moment he met Midii Une. He tried

to tell himself that Nanashi needed him, the boy would miss him that was true. But he didn’t need him. Midii was the best mother he’d ever seen. Forget her, just forget her he ordered himself. But soon enough he gave into temptation.

“I just need to be sure that they’re getting along alright,” he told himself, asking his secretary to connect him to Global Conglomerate’s Davydd Morrigan. They were friends, Global and Winner had always done business together and it had been Davydd who saw Midii’s paintings in his office and taken an interest in her much as he had. Strangely enough Trowa showed a strange aversion to the paintings, it was one of the few things in life they didn’t agree on.

“Quatre, I have to give you my condolences on losing your little artist,” Davydd said, appearing on the vid-screen with a grin, gray eyes shining mischievously. “My gain though. Midii was wasted on the colonies, you know that. She’ll go much farther here on Earth, it’s still the place to be in the art world. If you hadn’t paid her such ridiculous sums for everything she’s done so far she’d have enough already to open a show in London or even Paris. You know it’s almost as if you were trying to keep her to yourself. I guess that can’t be true though, not with the way you are with Trowa. She’s a strange girl but she’ll be a success, mark my words. At least you’ll be able to say you knew her when. No hard feelings?”

“None,” Quatre said, but his voice sounded small and unsure in the large, quiet office. “When you see Midii give her my best wishes.”

It was growing late and still he sat there, his eyes on the softly-lit painting of the waterfall she’d been working on the day he first touched her. The painting Davydd had seen before making it his business to steal Midii away.

“The way you are with Trowa,” Quatre heard the echo of Morrigan’s words. What did that mean? The call hadn’t helped, it had only made something painfully clear. The “way he was with Trowa” really had nothing to do with preferring men over women. It was the type of person who attracted him. And Trowa and Midi were the same. She was hurt and alone and lost and it was all because of him. He wanted to save her just like he had so desperately wanted to find Trowa after the horrible accident with Wing and Vayeate. It really had nothing to do with the fact that Trowa was a beautiful man or that Midii was a lovely woman, nothing at all to do with Trowa’s musical talent or the fact that Midii’s paintings called to something in his soul.

He knew for certain now that he was in love with Midii, as much as he was in love with Trowa.

*****

Trowa stood in the doorway of Quatre’s corporate office, his eyes avoiding the painting that hung on the opposite wall. “Sunrise Over Snow” the plaque beneath it read. Fortunately there had been no new acquisitions recently although the old ones still crowded the walls with their beautiful images that Quatre seemed to love but that continued to torture him with memories he longed to forget. Couldn’t Quatre see that the sun was rising on the aftermath of a bloody battlefield? Couldn’t he see that this had been painted through the eyes of someone left alone and broken? He felt familiar pain, like leaving Midii behind all over again.

Of course Quatre didn’t see what it meant. Lately his lover saw nothing, nothing but endless stock reports. He talked about nothing but bids and purchases and expansion.

And when it was all over it would end up as only an excuse for more work, more time away and more time spent in the office. This whole new affair with Global Conglomerate was insanity. But Trowa kept his thoughts private. He never interfered with Quatre’s business.

He moved his tall frame a bit and leaned against the wall. Trowa noticed Quatre didn’t even catch the slight movement, he was so engrossed in the numbers flashing across the screen. He shook his head and a small amused smile touched his lips. What kind of husband would he be if he let Quatre immerse himself in numbers to the point where he lost his instincts, to the point where he lost sight of what was really important in life? Trowa lost his smile momentarily, odd that when Quatre had finally gotten through to him the importance of enjoying what they shared that he himself had lost touch with that ideal and gotten so obsessed by his family business.

Quatre fidgeted. Something light and feathery tickled the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, sending strangely delightful shivers down his spine. There was work to do though and if he wanted to get home anytime soon to get some sleep he had to post these last few bids before the Earth stock exchanges closed. Just a few minutes more and it would all be over. It had almost been too easy but Winner wasn’t known for this type of thing and neither Davydd Morrigan or his board of directors had any idea what was going to hit them tomorrow.

The tickling came again and this time Quatre swiped at his neck with his hand only to find it caught in a strong, but tender grip.

“Trowa,” he breathed. The other man looked dangerous and mysterious in the dark gloom that had settled in the room since twilight had fallen. The only light was from the little desk lamp that sat on the corner of his desk and from the small lamps that illuminated Midii’s paintings.

A warning beep from the computer dragged his attention away from the smoldering green eyes and the lean, muscular figure in the darkness. His eyes lit with a moment of triumph and he quickly pressed the enter key to strike the final deal.

Trowa caught his breath as Quatre turned toward him again. His face had changed as if all the cares of the world he’d carried the last few months had lifted. The expression only lasted a second before the almost omnipresent worried look shadowed those bright eyes again.

Quatre felt a small flicker of doubt. It was done. It couldn’t be taken back. He had betrayed an old friend and business associate and now Midii would be back in his life again. And still there was Trowa, looking at him with trust and concern in his emerald eyes. There was no way this could work it would all explode in his face but he couldn’t turn back, he couldn’t give up Midii and Nanashi. He couldn’t give up Trowa.

Quatre gave himself up to that warm, strong grip. If only the world could stop and he could just stay in that hard, protective embrace forever.

“Tell me what’s worrying you,” Trowa’s voice whispered softly in his ear, the warmth of his breath on his face tightening the muscles in Quatre’s groin. He had been so busy, it had been so long.

“Let me help you, like you’ve helped me,” Trowa whispered again, his hands working gently on Quatre’s tense shoulders, the long fingers pressing comfortingly into his skin.

Trowa frowned as Quatre shook his head. “There’s nothing, just work, I think the worst is over now,” the blonde faltered. But the worst was yet to come, he’d set himself and all of them up for disaster but he couldn’t stop it. Midii had him in an irresistible trap. He wanted so much to help her and he loved Nanashi, because he was Trowa’s and because now he was like his own child. He could see no way out, there was no right choice, not since the day he’d made her that promise and betrayed Trowa’s trust.

Trowa’s fingers trailed down his sides and Quatre felt those practiced fingers working at the waistband of his pants. He gasped and a small moan escaped his lips at the familiar, sensual touch.

“I love you,” he heard Trowa’s voice murmur and felt it the other man’s lips quiver teasingly against the delicate skin of his stomach. Quatre gripped the arms of his chair as he felt Trowa’s lips close over him, the excruciating tickle of that hair where he was most sensitive. The torture of pleasure and guilt went on and on until at last he exploded into an almost unconscious state of ecstasy where he could forget everything for those minutes.

With a soft smile Trowa tugged on his spent lover and pulled him to the floor with him, holding him close against him. Quatre leaned to kiss him and tasted himself on Trowa’s lips. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss.

“I love you Trowa,” he whispered in his husband’s ear, stroking the unruly auburn bangs and tightening his other arm around his waist. “Forever.”

No matter what happens, he added silently.

***************

She opened the door to her studio to find Quatre inside. Midii clung to the doorknob as if it were the only thing holding her up.

“What are you doing here,” she asked, trying to maintain her composure. She had never, never wanted to lay eyes on him again. She hated what he did to her, hated the treacherous reaction of her body to the memory of his touch when in her heart and mind he was her worst enemy. She thought she had escaped his

control over her, she didn’t owe him a thing.

His heart thumped at the sight of her but fell at the look of despair that flooded her eyes. He only wanted to help her, be there for her. He hadn’t been able to stay away, his need for her growing more and more intense over the months since she’d left, returned to Earth, started a new life.

She turned away, leaning her forehead against the door as he walked toward her with his hand outstretched and felt his arms wrap around her from behind like iron bands pulling her back to that other life.

“You have to leave,” Midii whispered, trying unsuccessfully to shrug out of his embrace. “Please, it isn’t like before, you don’t own this place, you don’t own me or my son . . .”

She felt him nudge the hair away from her neck with his nose and felt his lips pressing against the top of her shoulder.

“I love you Midii,” he confessed, his arms tightening around her possessively. “I’d do anything to be with you. Anything.”

The radio was playing softly in the background, the innocuous music was interrupted by an equally innocuous voice intoning the 9 a.m. business report.

“In a surprise move it was announced today that Winner Industries bought out Global Conglomerate in a hostile takeover, the first such takeover venture in the long history of the Winner Corporation,” the voice said.

Midii gasped and her body slumped back against Quatre’s in shock and defeat. “Anything,” he whispered against her soft hair as he moved her to face him and captured her lips with his. He lifted her in his arms and held her close before placing her on the soft leather couch under the window and kneeling down beside it, brushing her tears away.

“You can come home now, back to space, back to me,” he whispered, his hand slowly sliding up beneath the T-shirt she wore, feeling her heartbeat quicken like a small trapped bird in a cage beneath his fingertips and her body tremble with reluctant desire.

Her body remembered the perfect touch of those slender fingers. Quatre would win, why did she even try to fight, to run? He’d won Trowa, he’d won her son who’d never stopped talking about him. Midii felt like a powerless nothing as she’d always been, subject to the whims of stronger beings. War or peace didn’t matter in her world. She was always the loser.

Those gentle fingers caressed her cheek hypnotically, his kisses feather light and begging her attention. Her heart wanted to rebel but her body responded to the love it craved so desperately. With a gasp that sounded almost painful with longing Midii twined her fingers in Quatre’s soft hair and pulled him close to her, parting her lips beneath his and answering the kiss.

*********************

Harsh light glinted in Trowa’s eyes, imperfections in the colony sky tiles magnifying the glare until it flashed brilliantly between the buildings and shone brightly between the leaves of trees blinding innocent passers-by. He patted his jacket pockets desperately seeking his sunglasses only to suddenly get a clear image of them sitting on the kitchen counter. Trowa growled low in his throat in annoyance and ducked his head to avoid the light. In that split second as he moved his head the light caught something again. A stray beam of artificial sunlight bounced on a gently swinging mass of bright blonde hair that called him as clearly as a beckoning finger. He attempted to look closer, his heart realizing what he saw even before his mind accepted it but he squinted again as the playful sunbeam traveled next to the rearview mirror on the side of a car and flashed in his eyes, blinding him again. Trowa shielded his eyes with his hand and scanned the area. Then he spotted her.

Like a ghost, the wisp of a girl turned the corner, her pale blonde hair floating around her as she walked. Trowa blinked. How many times had he seen that vision and she hadn’t really been there, or it had only been a girl that looked a little like her? He rushed to the corner of the building and dared to look again. She was still there and as he watched a slender, graceful hand lifted to brush the hair out of her face. A girl so like Midii she had to be her.

“Midii,” he called. “Wait.”

She stopped but didn’t turn around. In several long strides Trowa was beside her, taking her face in his hands and looking at her searchingly.

“Oh God,” he said, pulling her tightly against him, “Midii, Midii. I’ve been so worried. I looked everywhere for you.”

“Trowa,” she said in a small, quavering voice. “Trowa.”

She wrapped her arms around him and cried in great, gulping sobs.

He led her to a small park he’d noticed earlier and pulled her down on a bench next to him. She looked at him her face wet with tears. He pulled out a handkerchief and dried her eyes.

“Tell me where you’ve been? Have you been all right? Why did you leave like that,” he asked, although he thought he knew the answer to the last question. It was over, he’d found her and he wouldn’t be tormented by the guilt any more. She looked good, she must be doing alright on her own. He had worried all this time needlessly.

She looked down at the grass and clover at her feet, “I overheard you that day,” she whispered.

“Midii I’m sorry,” Trowa said sincerely. “I never meant for you to find out that way, that’s why I wouldn’t give you a key. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just didn’t know how . . .”

“. . . how to get me to go away,” she asked bitterly, the memory of her humiliation bubbling up inside. “I’m sorry I was so pushy. I never meant to throw myself at someone who didn’t want me. Someone who never could.”

“But Midii,” he protested. “I did want you, I cared about you. I just . . .”

“. . . loved him more,” she finished for him.

“But look at you Midii,” he said, trying to change the subject. “You look wonderful and you’re doing just fine, I can tell. You’ve found someone else by now, a beautiful girl like you.”

Did he still think she was beautiful, she wondered. Had he ever?

“You could say I’ve found someone,” she sighed, thinking of her son and also of Quatre. Oh, what was she saying? Trowa was here, beside her again. There was no one else for her, there could never be. She’d given him her heart as a child and never gotten it back.

She slid off the bench and knelt before him, almost worshipfully, making a lump form in his throat. She looked up at him with teary eyes full of love. Her small hands slid softly up the inside of his thighs so slowly, tantalizingly. “I’ve missed you so much, Trowa,” she pleaded. “I’ve been so alone.”

“Midii,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking down into her face, keeping her at arms’ length. “You told me you had someone.”

“He isn’t you Trowa. He can never be you.”

She leaned forward, fighting against the grip of his hands and slowly winning him over. Midii kissed his lips, softly, yearningly. “Trowa,” she gasped. “Oh please. Just once more.”

He gathered her in his arms and pulled her up in his lap and kissed her, his hands seeking the familiar curves of her body, the memory of past passion starting to glow like an ember deep inside. Lately he had felt so all alone, lately Quatre hadn’t been at all like himself and she was here again, promising everything as she always had and wanting nothing in return.

But her arms around him were almost strangling. If he did this now everything would go back to the way it had been before. And now he was committed to Quatre, totally, there was no room for her in his life, except maybe as a friend. To betray him now, even for her, would be unforgivable. With a groan Trowa reached up and disengaged her arms from around her neck, gently but firmly.

“I can’t,” he said, although his heart still pounded and he was so aware of her body curled into his. “Midii, no, I won’t do this with you anymore. I love Quatre and it’s not fair to you. You deserve more than this. ”