Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cat's Paw ❯ Chapter Eighteen: ( Chapter 18 )

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Cat's Paw 18

I turn to my assembly of self-proclaimed guardians. They stare at the door as it closes behind Barton, looking very much like three disgruntled mama bears. I wouldn't be surprised if they disemboweled the next thing that crossed their paths. Or mine, for that matter.

"Excuse me," I venture. Their heads snap simultaneously in my direction. Whoa. Synchronized staring. Impressive. "I'm feeling a smooge... overwhelmed. Can I ask some questions?"

"As long as they're not the baby-making ones," Hilde grins, dispelling the somber mood. She crosses the room and flops across the other, unoccupied bed, collapsing with a theatrical sigh. Relena rolls her eyes from her shabby chair and Quatre shoves Hilde over, perching next to her on the mattress. She shifts so that her head is resting on his shoulder and giggles when he gives her a noogie.

Either they did some serious bonding while I was snoozing or their idea of personal space is a lot narrower than my own.

"So what's on your mind?" Relena gently asks, giving me her undivided attention. Quatre and Hilde settle down and turn to face me, as well. I wonder if this is how the fish in the lobby aquarium feel when the visitors stare at them. Huge, disembodied faces floating at them from behind a veneer of glass, doing remarkable imitations of the Wizard of Oz. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

Focus, Duo. Focus.

I take a deep breath. "Well, first of all, am I correct in assuming that my old room is off-limits until the investigation is over?"

"You got it, kid," Hilde nods. "They slapped so much police tape up, you couldn't hack your way through with a chainsaw."

Well, shoot. I hope I get my stuff back soon. I really want my rubberband gun, among other stuff. That thing is better than a safety blanket and ten times as painful.

Speaking of painful... "Am I also correct in assuming that I can expect to be summoned to court somewhere in the future?"

Relena fields that one. "I'm afraid so," she sighs. "There is an odd chance that it will settle out of court, but you'll most likely be asked to serve as a witness."

"How can I get out of it?" Always ready to be the model citizen, that's me!

Hilde pretends to think. "Well, you can die. Or flee the country. Say! You could go insane! But, wait. You've already done that."

"Oh, be quiet, you," Quatre groans, giving her another noogie. She blows him a raspberry, but does shut up.

That brings us to the Big Question. The one I don't really want to know the answer to.

"Would it be out of line," I wince, "to believe that everything I have said and done for the past month has been recorded on tape and video and will be forever archived in the depths of the FBI filing system after being overly analyzed by a team of top specialists?"

"That's pretty likely," Hilde flinches. "But, hey! You'll be in good company. We're all on tape right along with you. Say, I wonder what they'll make of Miss Prim and Proper here cursing?" She smirks wickedly at Relena, who refuses to meet her eyes and instead opens her briefcase, shuffling papers about feverishly.

Quatre chuckles. "Don't worry, Relena. They've seen me cry. Twice."

Hilde crows. "That's because you're a wussy-wuss boy!"

"Hush, little Miss 'they'll never know it was me who spilled the beans.' I'm surprised they didn't arrest you that night just on charges of sheer pigheaded-ness."

Although I appreciate Hilde's efforts to lighten things up, I'm not in a laughing mood. She may be able to snicker at the FBI's funniest home videos, but for me it's hardly the same thing. They only make the occasional cameo appearance. My entire life is on those tapes, everything from the conversations with inanimate objects to one-sided Scrabble games to bratty temper tantrums. They don't exactly show me at my most best and most balanced. Maybe I won't have to testify at the trial after all. They'll take one look at the tapes and rule me insane.

Well, they wouldn't be the first. Hilde just did that two seconds ago.

It's probably because I'm a little pissy about the videos that I allow the next question to sneak past my lips. I really don't mean to ask it. I really don't. But before I know quite what's happening, it has donned its sheep costume and tip-toed on past my mental restraints, so wily you could pin a tail on it and call it a weasel.

"Why was it that all three of you knew exactly what has been going on and purposefully kept me ignorant? How was it that anyone who watched the freaking six o'clock news knew what was going on and yet I was absolutely clueless?"

The laughter stops and they exchange guilty looks. The silence is thicker than the large print version of the Complete Works of Charles Dickens and twice as melodramatic. No one speaks for a while, then Quatre offers a quiet explanation. "It wasn't... quite as bad as that. The information on the news was sketchy at best. They didn't identify Heero by name or even say how he was involved. They just mentioned that he was injured in the car accident that took Lowe's life. And actually, they didn't even release that Lowe was dead until yesterday night. He was reported as being in critical condition."

"The only reason Relena and I knew to be alarmed," Hilde speaks up, "was because of our connections in the legal system. Otherwise we never would have thought that he or Lowe were connected to the terrorists. And if you recall, we thought that Heero was in danger, not the danger." She and Relena exchange sardonic looks. "We almost lost our practice because of that stunt," Hilde reveals, looking slightly ill. "The only reason they didn't shut us down was because we agreed to cooperate fully with their orders. Otherwise I never would have lied to you. Oh, God. I'm sorry, Duo. That was a real shitty thing for me to do. I chose myself over you."

"It's okay, Hilde," I smile reassuringly, hoping she doesn't start to cry. There are two things in life I just can't handle: bread pudding and girls crying. The sight of either is enough to make me want to flee the room, climb a tree, and refuse to come down until the Apocalypse. Or dinner, whichever comes first. "I would have been plagued with guilt until I died if you had given up your practice for me. Trade a successful career for some loser kid? You would have to be crazy-"

"Stop it," she interrupts me, looking upset. Bread pudding!!! my head screams frantically. "You're not a loser. You're a real brat sometimes, but..." Her voices pitters off and she stands with a wobbly smile. "Excuse me. I need to use the ladies room." We all watch in silence as she flees the room. I am grateful, for her departure saves me the trouble. I guess every cloud does have a silver lining (except for the mushroom shaped ones, which have a lining of Iridium & Strontium 90).

"I got the same story you did," Quatre picks up the verbal ball after a pause. "Barton told me the same billionaire lie." He shakes his head, looking angry with himself. "I knew my father didn't know Sano Yuy, but when I asked him about it, he told me to leave it alone. And like a brainless, obedient son, I did. I should have insisted--"

"Why?" I snort, ending his guilt spiral before it can corkscrew down more than a few inches. "So he could ship you off to Nigeria to your sister's safekeeping? I'm glad you didn't ask, Q, because then you would have felt obligated to tell me and that would have led to all kinds of trouble."

"A coincidence, wasn't it," Relena randomly muses. "The names, I mean. Yuy is a rather uncommon surname outside of Asia."

Quatre shakes his head. "There were a lot of coincidences. Or maybe just careful planning. I'm not sure which. Either way, I'm sure glad it's over with. I'm ready to return to my boring life now, thank you very much."

"I'll drink to that," I sigh. I rue the day I ever wished for a roommate. Over the past month I have been punched, strangled, deprived of the remote control, forced to confront eyebrows with plans of world domination, verbally abused, scared witless, and had my privacy severely violated to boot. I should either be spitting angry, an emotional eunuch, or flat-out overwhelmed. Instead I feel almost giddy.

Only I could manage to get myself into a situation like that one. Of course, I had a little help along the way. I'm kind of going to miss Heero, in a strange sort of way. We went through so much together... and most of it was his fault. He may not have been the ideal roommate, but he was sure better than the freaky clown poster.

I loathe clowns. Give me a good ole psychopath any day. They might both be a few nuts short of a Snickers bar, but at least the psycho doesn't expect you to applaud him for it.

A sudden thought trots to my attention and prances about until I verbalize it, as desperate for attention as Dennis Rodman. I really need to have a little chitchat with my thought processes one day. Instill some discipline into them. I don't know what kind of impression they're trying to give, but I know I for one am slightly repulsed by towering, green-haired transvestites sporting pierced nipples. "Say, Q, what wound up happening with Dorothy? I thought you were supposed to stay away from the hospital until further notice."

He looks majorly pissed. "Long story short, that bastard S tried to pin the whole thing on me. I'm just an intern, so I work interdependently with a resident doctor. Hospital policy requires the senior doctor to monitor the intern's work. That includes re-checking their patients to see that they've been properly treated. The day Dorothy seized, I wasn't the last one to see her. I was just the last to sign off on her chart. S had been to check her not fifteen minutes before it happened and was apparently too busy to scribble his signature. Luckily Tracy remembered seeing him leave the room."

"So it was his fault, not yours, and when he realized it, tried to save his ass by canning you," I summarize. "What a... a... jerk!." If you can't say anything nice, then at least have the decency to be vague.

"To put it mildly. But thanks to my excellent legal counsel," he smiles at Relena, "my job is once more out of peril."

"So that's why you and Hilde seem so familiar with one another," I deduce. "They give you legal advice!"

"Well, they've been doing a lot more than that for me," Quate grins. "Should we tell him now or wait for Hilde to come back?"

"Oh, we have to wait. She'll kill us if we don't." Relena grins, drawing some papers out of her briefcase.

"And that would kind of defeat the entire purpose," Quatre sighs.

He is promptly chided. "Hush! You'll give it away!"

"What is going on here?" I ask with narrowed eyes. "Haven't there been enough secrets around this place?"

"Oh, but this is a good secret." Relena claps her hands and practically bounces in her seat. The action is so far diverged from her normal character that my mind cannot quite align the concepts of "perky" and "Relena." The best it can come up with is "showing mild interest in the everyday affairs of others" Relena. "Looking something other than offended with society" Relena. Perhaps "Caffeinated" Relena? Complete with Mr. Coffee and bonus filters?

"What did you do? Quatre! Explain!" I demand, crossing my arms against my ribs. I just finish speaking when the door swings open.

"You told him already?" Hilde yelps, coming back into the room.

"Don't worry. We didn't start without you," Relena reassures her.

"Oh, good. Sorry I took so long, but I had to run to the car and get this." She holds up a Polaroid camera. "I have the feeling we're going to need it."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to be drawn and quartered?" I warily ask.

They beam at me in delight. I don't know whether to be excited or scared. I settle on a mixture of the both.

"Well," Quatre begins, "we've been putting the past couple of days to good use. We've spent a lot of time just sitting around, you know. And you know what they say about idle hands."

"They do the devil's work," I finish the cliche, wondering where this could possibly be leading. I swear, if they found me another roommate...!

"You always have been our little Satan-spawn," Hilde pretends to shed crocodile tears. "Oh, how we'll miss you!"

Quatre elbows her in the ribs. "Quiet!"

I am totally confused. It must have shown on my face, for they all grin even wider.

I hope they're having fun, those detestable juggernauts of deceit. My heart is in my throat, my tongue is tied, and my eyes are bulging. Do I look pathetic enough for you or do I need to start quoting Little Nell? Have mercy on me and explain, already!

"What would you say," Relena begins again, shuffling her papers about, "if I told you someone wanted to adopt you?"

Talk about being blind sided.

"I'd say you were full of shit," I reply, forgetting to censor my comment.

They chortle. I blink.

"What would you say," Hilde continues, "if I told you this someone was insanely rich?"

"That you spent too much time sniffing paint thinner as a kid."

They chortle. I blink.

"What would you say," Quatre smiles broadly, "if I told you I'd no longer be the youngest one in my family?"

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT."

Hilde snaps a picture. "Told you we'd need it!" she laughs.

~+~+~

Afterwards....

Special Agent Trowa Barton was never heard from again. No record of him exists anywhere publically accessible. However, a man bearing a remarkable resemblance was once spotted on a Calvin Klein billboard modeling underwear, French-cut male bikinis to be precise.

Heero Yuy was determined to be mentally unstable and was confined to a federal mental institute. He was ordered to remain there until determined capable of safely functioning in society. He was last seen weaving potholders and muttering about bulbous grotesqueries. He refers to himself as Perry Duck.

Relena Darlien and Hilde Schbeiker went on to become one of the most prominent law firms in America. Representing a vast array of clients, they achieved infamy for their refusal to represent O.J. Simpson when he was retried for murder. His lawyers successfully argued that it would be impossible to hold an unbiased trial, for upon hearing that Schbeiker and Darlien turned down the case, most of the public condemned him on the spot.

Quatre Winner earned his medical degree with flying colors and became a resident doctor at the Winner Medical Center. A favorite with the children, he can be recognized by his white blonde hair and bright red clown nose. Taking Patch Adams as an example, he treats his young patients to a healthy dose of humor, with the help of a special friend. He specializes in puns, much to the dismay of his coworkers.

Upon his adoption by Jack Winner, Duo Maxwell was promptly released into his custody. Completing his treatment as an outpatient, his bone marrow transplant proved to a complete success and he made a normal recovery. He never was called to testify against Heero Yuy. Even as the youngest of thirty-one siblings, he never forgot those long, lonely days in the hospital, talking to bedpans and oxygen masks. As soon as he was well enough, he volunteered at the WMC where he quickly learned exactly what candy-stripers do besides push wheelchairs. He can often be seen by Quatre's side, putting smiles on patients' faces with the help of a sock-puppet named Drippy. Some friends are just too close to our hearts to leave behind. [1]

THE END

Footnotes

[1] Get it? Drippy was in his chest, right by his heart. It's a pun! Quatre specializes in puns! *crickets chirp* Um... I'll be over here now....

Zooie-notes

Yeah, well... it didn't come out as completely plausible as I wanted. I think I caught all the plot holes. Please point any out. Just... um... ignore the big, gaping one, okay? And if you don't know what I'm talking about... never mind.

This was really hard to write because that last chapter was the one I wrote first. Then I went back and filled in everything else. I think I was using the assumption that, like a maze, writing is easier if you work backwards. I think I have proven that assumption to be false.

Zooie: *staggers* Is it.. is it over?

Muse: Yep, but... *does happy dance* ...I wanna write more!

Zooie: After field school... I promise. But right now... I need sleep, you barbarous slavedriver!

Muse: *sighs* You are cruel to me, woman, but I acquiesce.