Tears of Despair
Chapter 6: Red or White?
By Liewe
Standard disclaimer’s apply, please don’t sue me, I only own Christof,
Damien and icky Lefave.
Someone was watching her, but who? She could feel his presence, but the
haze, which, clouded her mind, blocked his identity. Her mind
turned inwards once more, the failed attempt at waking disparaging her,
she would try again, but she needed a minute to rest, which was it.
She tried to reassure herself that everything was fine, that she was only
tired, bone weary.
She could see someone struggling, heaving chains imprisoning her. Her?
Yes it was most definitely a woman. The figure was blurred, but she
could hear soft whispers, the voice urgent and pleading. The woman
looked so much like her, the eyes, so sad, but no she was Ariane
Rougier. Wasn’t she? A woman without a past or a future?
“…Remember…family…love…” a voice whispered, the young woman’s
voice. It could only be her, but her figure it was blurring in and
out of focus, her words coming in short bursts.
“Remember who? Who’s family? What love?”
“Answer me dammit!”
“Remember what?” Ariane screamed, her voice hoarse from pain, her eyes
wide as she bolted upright, a startled Wufei staring directly at her, a
light pink wash cloth in his hands.
“What are you yelling about,” he asked tersely, his onyx eyes taking in
the anger, the irritation.
“What?”
“I said what are you yelling about?” Wufei asked again, a muscle
beginning to twitch in his cheek as he watched her wide eyes go from
surprised to cool and collected.
“You must be disillusioned, sir, I wasn’t yelling about anything.” Ariane
bit out, her gaze trailing down to her newly bandaged hands. “You
should also be resting, LeFave gave you quite a beating,” she continued,
her eyes now firmly focused on his face, she inwardly smiled at the anger
she saw lurking in the stern countenance.
“I am not disillusioned, nor am I a weakling. I was only taking
care of your ungrateful hide, Midii Une!” Wufei growled, her name
slipping from his lips and idly shredding at her composure.
“You are mistaken sir, my name is Ariane Rougier, I have never once in my
life been referred to as Midii Une. You are also mistaken in the
fact that I called you a weakling. I did no such thing, I was
advising you as to the best possible course. The chances that you
have a concussion are rather large, by staying put and resting you will
allow your body the chance to heal, cutting short your time of
uselessness.” Ariane purred with a smile, her fingers lightly brushing
Wufei’s cheek as she moved to stand.
“I did not ask for you care,” Wufei huffed, moving to the side as the
petite woman rose to her feet, her figure swaying every so slightly
before she took a firm grasp on reality and the spinning sensation
dissipated.
“Would you rather be at the bottom of the nearest lake?” Ariane asked
smoothly as she stretched, pulling two glasses from the cabinet, the
crystal tinkling as the glasses knocked together.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“LeFave told me to take care of you, this isn’t what he had in mind, but
I didn’t want any more blood staining my hands. Red or white?”
“What?”
“Red or white wine?”
“Red,” Wufei replied with a shake of his head. “What would this
LeFave do if he knew you disobeyed him?”
“He would make sure that it never happened again, he would teach me a
lesson,” Ariane replied pushing a glass of red wine into Wufei’s
hand. “You know you’re a man after my own heart, I prefer red wine
as well,” Ariane chuckled.
“How long have you known LeFave then?”
“Ever since I can remember,” Ariane replied softly.
“Has he always been like that then?”
“Yes, it’s odd you know, to me he always seems like he’s getting me back
for something I did, but the thing is I don’t remember what I did.
You know what I mean?”
“Surprisingly yes,” Wufei murmured, his quick mind matching up her
story. From what she said, she seemed to have gaps in her
memory.
“I haven’t spoken to anyone like this before. It feels like I know
you somehow. But that’s ridiculous last night was the first time I
ever met you.”
“I haven’t been this tolerant of someone in a long time,” Wufei said with
a sad smile.
“Wufei, how come you called me Midii Une,” Ariane asked, taking a long
slow sip of her wine.
“You reminded me of a woman I used to know. You even look like her
except for the scar and long hair. She was a friend of mine,” Wufei
whispered. He couldn’t tell her the truth, he didn’t know her, not
this new her.
~*~*~*~*~
Crimson sat quietly her head buried in the large paperback book resting
on the table. Not a soul stirred, no one dared to disturb the
sleeping circus star. She was always so quite, so aloof. No
one knew who she was; they knew the enigma, which was all she would
allow.
She had appeared one day, duffle bag in hand, and eyes full of
pain. No one questioned her, the ringmaster had only asked for her
references. In response to his question she had pinned three flies
to the wall of his trailer. The puncture marks still there as a
reminder of her aim, should he dare to doubt her ability’s.
She had won their respect through their actions, she never put on false
appearances to them, she never tried to lie to them. She didn’t
even try to speak, she only accepted what they cared to dish out to
her. But she didn’t scrabble for it like a hungry dog. She
wasn’t there, not entirely, her mind was forever trapped in the distant
and painful memories.
She appeared to be in her mid twenties, her sapphire eyes dead, the
emotions long gone. Her pain was hidden, hair once luxuriously
long, now barely grazing her shoulders. Her hair, once a brilliant
pale gold, now a dark and dull shade of black, dark as night. The
changes were not only physical they were mental as well. She was
different yet she was still the same; she dealt with the same painful
past.
Her name, she had changed it as well, to match the new identity.
She didn’t want him to find her. She had run from him and his
whispered words. His promises, his declarations and his snide
remarks, but most of all his promises. He couldn’t make everything
right, that wasn’t possible. And justice? Justice was over rated,
what was justice to one, was injustice to another.
Sally hadn’t suited the person she had become; now she was Crimson.
Trowa didn’t recognize her; she was hiding in plain site. No one
would find her. She just wasn’t ready to return, she didn’t know if
she ever would be.
~*~*~*~*~
Christof just shook his head; he couldn’t believe what Damien had hinted
at. It just wasn’t right, he couldn’t like the rug-rat. She
was annoying. She was childish. She was his niece. No
she wasn’t his niece, but she was too young. That was it. She
was too young to be thrust into an adult relationship. Adult
relationship?
“I’m going insane, I really am going insane.” Christof chanted as
he began to pace, his hands constantly running through his hair.
“You mean, I would think that having survived the war, and numerous other
incidents I could deal with a child. A mere girl.” He growled his
fist striking out to punch the unblemished wall.
“But no, I can’t, this is just fucking ridiculous. I don’t like
her; she’s just a rug-rat, a brat. Too like her, it would just be
weird. I mean, I don’t wait on baited breath for her every word do
I?” He asked plaintively, long fingers caressing the already growing
bruise on his knuckles.
“No, I don’t. And I don’t watch her every more do I?” He
questioned with desperation dripping from his voice.
“No, I don’t. And I don’t notice those luscious lips or vibrant
eyes.” His mind wandered off, a picture of Mariemaia forming, her
long red hair flowing around her, hiding her, taunting him.
“Dammit, what’s wrong with me!” He cried in growing realization, his eyes
wide with shock. “How the hell could this have happened!”
~*~*~*~*~
“Iria Winner speaking,” Iria said, her eyes focused on the medical report
in her hands.
“Iria?”
“Quatre,” Iria asked startled, long fingers pulling the glasses from her
eyes as she stared at the nervous visage of her only brother.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, you know that by now don’t you?” Iria asked with a small
frown, she thought she had always made herself accessible to Quatre,
always offered to give him advice.
“I was looking through the family papers, you know all the birth
certificates and I was cross-referencing them with current where-bouts of
our sisters and I came up with a few missing. After asking Rashid
and Jasmine, they clarified everything with most of them, but one sister,
she’s still missing. But then I was thinking that she may not be a
sister, a cousin maybe, but that doesn’t make sense either because
without her there’s only 28, not 29.” Quatre said in a rush, a leaf of
papers in his hands.
“What brought on this sudden urge,” Iria asked gently.
“I just want to have a family reunion when the baby’s born, I want
everyone to meet the newest addition,” Quatre whispered with a dreamy
smile.
“I understand, so who is this mystery person?” Iria asked
soothingly.
“Scherazade Winner? I’ve heard of some of the others in parting,
and whispers, but I’ve never heard of her, is she one of our
sisters?”
“Yes, Scherazade was one of our many sisters. She was one of the
eldest,” Iria said smoothly, her eyes watching Quatre with strict
intent.
“What happened to her then?” Quatre asked softly, his eyes wide with
hope.
“She died in childbirth I think, I don’t know really though. She
ran away from home when she was barely 16 years old. She was
pregnant; Papa wanted her to have an abortion. She said no, there
was a huge fight, haven’t seen her since. She married a Frenchman
if I’m not mistaken. When Papa heard that he disowned her, forbade
any contact with her actually so as I said before, any information is
hard to come by.” Iria said with a shrug, she could barely remember
the other girl.
“Pregnant?”
“Yes, Papa had a terrible time trying to keep the press from discovering
any of the scandal. Her child, a daughter I think, well she’d be
your age now. Quatrina was pregnant with you at the same time.”
“She didn’t do anything to stop this?”
“No, she couldn’t. Your mother insisted on having you naturally,
the pregnancy was very hard on her, she was ill all the time. But
she was so happy, she was glowing with joy.” Iria said with a sad smile
as she watched Quatre his face a mask of pain.
“Do you know anything of the man she married, I’d like to find my niece,”
Quatre said his eyes glazed, his mind trapped in a memory.
“The closer it get’s to Cathy’s due date the more sentimental you get,”
Iria said with a soft chuckle. “I’m afraid I know very little of
the man she married, I don’t even remember his name, all I remember is
that he lived in Province. Jasmine told me, a few years ago, when
papa died, we wanted to get the family together for his funeral.
She knows more, maybe you could ask her?”
“I think I will, I think I will, thank you Iria.”
“You’re welcome, anytime Quatre,” Iria said softly, as she closed the
call. He was delving deep into the family tragedy’s she only hoped
he wouldn’t be hurt.
“I hate lying to you little one,” she whispered to the darkness.
“But the truth will only hurt you, she was a traitor, as was her
family…”
