Tears of Despair
Chapter 7: Coming Together
By Liewe (liewe@hotmail.com)
Standard disclaimers apply, I only own Damien, Christof and icky LeFave,
and Scherazade the rest of the wonderful personalities belong to Sunrise
and Bandai, I’m only borrowing them.
“Lady Une, please,” Wufei asked his face emotionless.
“Preventer clearance?”
“JC-01295,” Wufei bit out as the young woman’s face disappeared from
view, to be replaced with the stern countenance of Lady Une.
“Yes?”
“I’ve found the leak in the Interpol system and I’ve found the source,”
Wufei explained, his voice monotone in the recitation.
“Bring the leak back with you, and return immediately,” Lady Une ordered
before closing the connection.
“Bring her back,” Wufei murmured gently massaging his temples his eyes
closed as if deep in thought. “But what will that do to her?
Will she remember or will the memories forever remain out of reach?
If Trowa saw her, his recovering would be set back as well.”
“Wufei?” Ariane’s voice called startling him out of his reverie.
“Yes, Ariane,” he replied, her name rolling of his tongue.
“Was that your boss?”
“Yes…” Wufei replied warily eyeing her.
“She wants me to bring me with you when you return doesn’t she?”
Ariane asked softly, her bandaged hands smoothing the invisible wrinkles
from her pearl gray silk skirt.
“In a sense yes, she doesn’t know who you are, but she would like me to
bring the leak from Interpol with me.” Wufei explained
tersely.
“Is it important that I accompany you?” She asked softly, a tumble
of gold hiding half her face and masking her sad eyes.
“Incredibly so,” he replied in a matter of fact manner.
“Well then, I shall accompany you, I’m tired of hurting people,” she
whispered, turning away from his questioning gaze.
“Why?”
“Maybe I’m tired of being used, maybe I want to make a difference,” she
replied tartly, her fingers running over the edge of the glass
countertop.
“I understand that, we’ll leave tonight,” he replied softly.
“Ariane,” he called out softly, the chauvinist air lost for a time.
“Yes, Wufei?”
“We’ll protect you,” he said softly turning his head away from her,
denying recognition of his weakness.
“Thank you,” she whispered her eyes downcast as her mind whirled.
~*~*~*~*~
Her world whirled as she was pulled from her deep slumber by insistent
nagging, and never-ending beeping.
“Come in Preventer Water, come in Preventer Water,” the voice called
insistently, the vid-com constantly beeping.
Crimson looked disdainfully at her only link to the past, she wasn’t
ready yet. She couldn’t go back, or could she? The past few
years hadn’t been much help to her wounded psyche, things had
progressively gotten worse in fact.
“Preventer Water, come in, this is urgent! Preventer Water, this is
Preventer Fire, come in!” The voice pleaded identifying itself as
Lucrezia Noin-Merquise.
“Preventer Fire, this is Preventer Water,” Crimson once Sally finally
answered a sigh escaping her lips.
“Water it’s so good to hear your voice,” Noin sighed, and then her eyes
widened in shock and surprise, this wasn’t the woman she remembered.
“Why have you contacted me?” Crimson asked tersely, her burgundy
lips tightly pressed together.
“We have a situation,” Noin said, taken aback by Sally’s attitude.
“What kind of situation?”
“It can’t be discussed over the vid, Une is requesting your presence at
Preventer HQ,” Noin said with a sigh.
“Agreed,” Crimson bit out, a pale arm moving forward to terminate the
call.
“Sally…” Noin began only to be cut off by Sally’s angered voice.
“My name isn’t Sally anymore, I am Crimson,” she said before abruptly
ending the call.
“I guess, my decision has been decided for me.” Sally mused as she began
to pack a small bag, a red-checkered handkerchief covering her shorn
locks.
~*~*~*~*~
Quatre stared at the screen, his sapphire eyes boring into the blank
space. The sudden intrusion of a constant beep startled him from his
thoughts, sending him jumping from his desk.
“Quatre Raberba Winner,” Quatre snapped and then immediately regretted,
his nerves were worn thin. The constant worry wearing away his
patience. “Sorry,” he mumbled in reply, never looking up to see who
his caller was.
“You are needed,” the voice of Lady Une said, and Quatre glanced up at
her, surprise written across his features as his fingers stilled in their
task, papers falling to the floor.
“You are mistaken,” Quatre, said his voice even as he stared directly
into Lady Une’s doe brown eyes. “Catherine’s due date is less than
three weeks away, I can not afford to be away from home.”
“It can’t be helped, your presence is important,” Lady Une forced a
smile. “I would not call you in otherwise 04, you know that.” Lady
Une said, a delicate hand rubbing her forehead as she sighed in
irritation.
“My wife is pregnant with my child, do you remember what happened to
Dorothy?” Quatre asked his voice strained as the memory of hearing her
agonized screams tore through him.
“Yes, and that was an unfortunate occurrence, but there’s nothing that
says it will happen to Catherine as well. Nothing is written in stone,”
Lady Une grimaced as soon as the words left her mouth. Where was
her usual grace under pressure, she wondered, her eyes averted as she
refused to look into Quatre’s furious gaze.
“An unfortunate occurrence, you say,” Quatre said softly, his fingers
tapping against the oak desk, fire in his eyes.
“If you want your child to be brought into a war torn world then by all
means stay.” Lady Une said, her voice level as she attempted to gauge
Quatre’s reaction.
“Lady Une, I apologize, the past seems to be catching up to me,” Quatre
sighed shaking his head, golden bangs gently brushing against his
forehead.
~*~*~*~*~
Catherine turned, her face ablaze, the color matching her the flaming red
of her maternity gown.
“He’s leaving to fight,” she said through gritted teeth as she waddled
down the hallway, her original intent on seeing her husband
forgotten.
“I’m 8 months pregnant with his child and he’s leaving to fight,” she
repeated, her fingers clutching the papers she had been about to deliver
to Quatre as she passed by servants and Maganac’s alike.
“To ease his mind, I have searched for this mystery family member
Scherazade Une, and now he’s leaving me to fight...” she growled as she
left the air conditioned mansion and stepped outside into the heat of the
afternoon sun.
“Mistress Catherine?”
“I’m going for a walk,” she bit back, as she pushed past the startled
form of Auda.
“Mistress Catherine is that advisable in your condition,” Auda asked
gently as he watched Catherine Winner move towards the intricate garden
maze, a hand resting protectively on the swell of her protruding
stomach.
“It’s good to walk, and I don’t think anyone would appreciate it if I
attached my husband to the wall,” she said in reply as the bright red of
her dress disappeared among the green walls of the maze.
“What’s the master done this time?” Auda asked himself as she walked into
the mansion, his golden eyes catching the wad of papers left on the patio
table.
“Auda,” Quatre’s voice called, each word etched with mind numbing
strain.
“Yes Master Quatre,” Auda replied, as he stuffed the papers into the
pocket of his trousers.
“Have you seen Catherine,” Quatre asked, as his golden head of hair
appeared from the French doors.
“I would think it best if you allowed her some time to cool down,” Auda
said with a lop-sided smile, his fez tilting as he leaned to the
side.
“You’ve seen her,” Quatre asked, his voice excited as he grasped onto
Auda’s shoulders, looking directly into the golden eyes, his own aqua
pools pleading for the information he so desperately wanted.
“She went into…” Auda began but his words were cut off by a strangled
cry, the voice feminine and filled with pain.
“Cathy,” Quatre cried racing off into the maze his pace frantic.
~*~*~*~*~
Trowa moved with unhurried movements, his pace misplaced in the frantic
frenzy of the circus troupe. He didn’t look up as Crimson
approached, an army duffel slung over her shoulder as she moved with
purposeful strides, her movements as unhurried as his. They were
alike, both dealing with pain that couldn’t be seen, but a kind of pain
that slowly destroyed them from the inside.
“Trowa,” Crimson asked softly, her dark eyes emotionless as they followed
his every move.
“Yes,” was the succinct reply as Trowa finished stowing the rest of his
meager belongings.
“There was a call from Lady Une,” Crimson began, a hand toying with an
escaped lock of dull onyx hair.
“And that is important to me why,” Trowa asked, as he stood stock still
staring into the distance.
“The Preventers are being called into action,” Crimson said softly.
“Why did she tell you this?”
“I am a Preventer,” Crimson said with a hint of pride as she watched
Trowa’s expression for surprise or any sign of human life beyond the
normal everyday functions expected in day to day life.
“As I said before, this is important to me why?”
“Do you think you’re honoring Midii’s memory at all in the way you live?”
“That is none of your business,” Trowa replied his voice stern, yet
soft.
“My full name and rank, is Preventer Sally Water Po,” Sally said with
defiance.
“That was a surprise,” Trowa said his voice mocking as he watched and
waited.
“You knew?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out when you began this conversation,” Trowa
replied, crossing slim limbs across his chest and leaning back against
the solid presence of the ancient oak behind him.
“Then there is no need for explanation.”
“No there isn’t.”
“Then we need to go,” Sally said slinging the duffel bag over her
shoulder again as she turned towards her beat up pick up truck.
“No we don’t,” Trowa said softly, looking away from Sally’s retreating
form.
“Are you going to turn your back on the world? Are you going to
forsake what she fought for?”
“It killed her, how can I enjoy it, when it killed her!” Trowa cried
back, his features becoming animated with emotion.
“She gave her life for yours, and do you want to loose what she fought
for? You are a soldier of the past, and now we need the soldiers of the
past, the saviors of our future. When you became a Gundam pilot you
signed on for the long haul, and you proved yourself worthy of her
love. Was everything she believed a lie?” Sally asked, her eyes
sparking with hidden fire.
“No, it wasn’t,” came the whispered response as Trowa bent to pick up his
bag, following silently in Sally’s wake. He never saw the smile,
which crept across her usually sullen features.
