Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Contemplation Indigo ❯ District Snow ( Chapter 27 )

 

District Snow

 

By DRL

 

Sally Po deposited the empty champagne flute she had been nursing for the past ten minutes onto a tray carried the butler as he passed by. She declined his offer of a freshly charged glass, and surreptitiously detached herself from the group gathered around the piano. She was not particularly knowledgeable about classical music, but she recognised the piece that Quatre was playing, and he was playing it quite beautifully. The group had coerced him into giving an impromptu recital, and Quatre, after an initial demur, eventually capitulated. He really was an accomplished pianist, and it was with a mild regret that Sally withdrew. She passed along the passage and entered a cosy sitting room. She could still hear the strains of the air that Quatre was playing as she lowered herself into an arm chair. She sank gratefully back into the soft, down-filled cushions and ran her hands lightly across the taught kidskin that was stretched across the broad arms of the chair, relishing the supple smoothness of the hide.

 

 

 

She slipped her feet out of her stiletto-heeled pumps and breathed a sigh of relief as her toes were released from the narrow confines of the shoes. The shoes were beautifully elegant and a perfect colour-match for her dress, but their 4” heels and sharply tapered toes made protracted wear something of an ordeal, and she had been wearing them now for close on five hours. In a rather inelegant posture, lifting the hem of her full-length evening gown until her legs were exposed to the knee, she raised one foot, rested it upon the opposite knee and massaged the toes with her fingertips. The hairpins that secured the tight chignon that her thick, honey-blonde hair had been twisted into were digging into her scalp uncomfortably, but she did not dare loosen any of them for fear that the entire structure would come cascading down. As she eased her aching feet she relaxed back into the chair and closed her eyes.

 

 

 

From along the hall, a round of enthusiastic applause greeted the end of the piece that Quatre was playing and after brief pause, during which Sally could only imagine the entreaties of the group since these at least were beyond earshot, Quatre began playing again. Once again, Sally recognised the melody, but she knew neither the name of the piece, nor its composer. Her eyes still closed, she listened to the strains of the music as it floated along the passageway to the room where she sat, and as she immersed herself in the melody, she absently switched feet, and began to massage the other.

 

 

 

“Ahhh,” She sighed, “The suffering we women have to endure just to look good…”

 

 

 

“And quite successfully too, from where I'm sitting.” Said a voice that sounded disconcertingly close.

 

 

 

Sally's eyes flew open and she lowered her skirts abruptly. She had immediately recognised the melodious voice, and she stared wildly at Treize Khushrenada as he lounged insouciantly in the arm chair opposite hers, an amused smile on his handsome face, looking for all the world as though he had been there for the past half an hour. By heaven, but the man must have moved with the stealth of a cat; she hadn't heard a thing! It was a measure of how far relations between herself and this man had come that all she did at this juncture was to give a light laugh, after recovering from the initial shock.

 

 

 

“Thank-you kindly sir.” She said coquettishly, “And exactly how long have you been sitting there?”

 

 

 

“Not long.” Treize said vaguely. “Did you not appreciate the impromptu piano concerto?” He asked.

 

 

 

Sally looked across at him. As was usually the case, Treize cut a dashing figure, impeccably dressed as he was in a well-cut, black dinner suit. His beautifully knotted bow-tie drew a smile from her as she recalled Wufei once telling her how, throughout their fourteen year marriage, Treize had many times attempted to teach him how to achieve the perfect butterfly effect, with scant success. His suit was pressed to perfection, his shirt starched and dazzlingly white, and his shoes were buffed to a blemishless gleam. He looked as fresh and crisp as a newly-picked daisy, though he had been at the dinner party just as long as she had. How on earth did he do it, she wondered enviously?

 

 

 

“Oh yes,” She hastened to reassure him, “It was wonderful; Quatre is a very good pianist. I just… my shoes - you know how it is.” She smiled apologetically. Treize eyed the offending footwear that lay discarded on the floor between them.

 

 

 

“I can imagine.” He said with sympathy. Sally cast a glance down at his own hand-tooled shoes. She doubted this very much.

 

 

 

“What about you,” She asked as she drew her feet up into the chair, shifting a little until she was completely comfortable, “Did you not care for the recital?” Treize smiled wryly.

 

 

 

“I enjoyed it very much, but I deemed it best to remove myself from view before my darling husband took it into his head to remind everyone of my `pleasant, light baritone' - his words, not mine - then stirred them up to entreat me to sing. He takes a great deal of pleasure in landing me in the soup on these occasions. I can't imagine why.”

 

 

 

Sally laughed. She had been a witness to this ruse of Wufei's more than once, and she had to agree with the Chinese ex-pilot. Treize did indeed possess a fine singing voice and it occurred to her to return to the drawing room and start the clamour herself. She remained where she was, however, and listened to Treize as he continued.

 

 

 

“Also, I saw you leave and I followed you deliberately.”

 

 

 

“Why?” Sally asked with a suspicious frown.

 

 

 

“Because…” Treize drew the word out emphatically, “I hear that congratulations are in order.”

 

 

 

“Who told you that?” She snapped sharply, her eyes suddenly as hard as flint.

 

 

 

“Your husband-to-be.” He replied. Sally's temper flared.

 

 

 

“Shit!” She hissed with annoyance, uttering the expletive before she could govern herself. Treize recoiled slightly and regarded her with brows raised.

 

 

 

“Really, my dear,” He said, “This is hardly the reaction of a blushing bride-to-be.

 

 

 

“Oh,” She said quickly, “I'm sorry. It's just that we agreed not to say anything…” She tailed off.

 

 

 

“Well you needn't worry,” Treize said reassuringly, “He didn't exactly make a general announcement. The poor fellow's been like a cat on hot bricks all evening and I think he just wanted to tell someone - anyone. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He paused, then added, “He seems extremely happy though.”

 

 

 

Sally caught Treize's emphasis. He seemed extremely happy, whereas she… She glanced across at him and he looked back at her fixedly, his expression quite blank. His intent, steely blue gaze bored into her, and for a while she remained speechless, able only to return his stare. Wufei had once told her that his husband had a way of looking at him sometimes that made him wilt like boiled spinach. She now understood what the Chinese pilot meant. Treize's pale blue eyes were mesmerising, and she felt as though he was looking inside her, seeing directly into her very soul. Finally, she quailed beneath the intensity of the scrutiny she was being subjected to. She looked away from him, casting her gaze upon her shoes - anywhere but at him.

 

 

 

“He… he's a good man.” She said weakly, but even to her own ears her faltering words rang hollow. “He'll make a good husband,” She pressed on, nodding, as if to reinforce her words, “And he loves me. Yes,” She nodded again, “He loves me.”

 

 

 

“Convinced yet, are you?”

 

 

 

Sally's head shot up, but as she met Treize's steady gaze, she looked away again, this time to the large, abstract oil painting that hung on the wall at Treize's back, the boldly swirling, vari-coloured brushstrokes as unordered and confused as her own thoughts, and as tortuous as the intensity of this man's scrutiny. Damn him! Why did he always do this to her? Suddenly she breathed a heavy sigh and gave it up. Wearily she dragged her eyes back to his. His mild smile was kindly, but she sensed pity there, which immediately sparked her ire. She did not return the smile.

 

 

 

“Sally why?” He asked gently.

 

 

 

“Why?” She gave a short bark of laughter. “I suspect you know why.” She replied. “And I suspect you've always known.” She eyed him narrowly as he remained silent. “You have, haven't you? You've always known.” She pressed, her flashing eyes demanding a response. Finally, he nodded.

 

 

 

“Yes, I've always know. Well,” He added quickly, “Perhaps not always, but I've known for a while now.”

 

 

 

Sally coloured, wondering by what word or gesture had she given herself away. She had prided herself on being so discreet, so adept at masking her feelings. Had she perhaps been as transparent as a schoolgirl with a crush all along, or had he divined the truth some other way? Suddenly her eyes widened in alarm.

 

 

 

“Does he know?” Treize sat back in his chair and casually crossed one leg elegantly over the other. He shook his head.

 

 

 

“Don't worry, he has absolutely no idea.” Treize gave a mild chuckle. “You know Fei. If tomorrow morning he were to find the words `I love you Wufei Chang, from Sally Po' written in red lipstick across the bathroom mirror, it would be absolutely the first idea he would have had of anything of that kind.” Despite herself, Sally laughed. She knew his words to be true. Even had the field been clear (and Wufei actually interested in women, not men), winning him would have been an uphill struggle.

 

 

 

“In that case, I'm surprised you got anywhere with him.” She said blithely, but Treize's face immediately fell, and she instantly repented of her levity.

 

 

 

“So am I,” He said darkly, “So am I. It certainly wasn't easy.” Sally was surprised at the other man's dour demeanour and bleak tone. She had seldom seen him exhibiting anything other than supreme confidence, and she wondered what dark memories her causal remark had dredged up.

 

 

 

“But he adores you,” She said reassuringly, “He always has.”

 

 

 

“Perhaps,” Treize replied dryly, “But he hasn't always realised it. In fact, he was convinced he hated me at one point. Unfortunately, Wufei doesn't always see things as clearly as he might.”

 

 

Sally knew then that the statement was a veiled reference to Wufei's mental health problems. Treize was always very open and direct about everything. With him, there was never any prevarication, not even regarding his husband's ongoing battle with depression. The aristocrat coped with Wufei's depressive periods with characteristic strength and fortitude, but occasionally the shell fractured, and the considerable strain he endured was visible, momentarily. Such lapses were rare, however.

 

 

 

“Eventually, he came to appreciate his mistake though,” Treize continued in a lighter tone, “Which was all to the good.”

 

 

 

“For you perhaps.” Sally said, but with good humour. “How long have you known?” She asked. She didn't trouble to challenge the fact that despite his knowledge he had born her no malice or resentment. She was no threat to him - they both knew that.

 

 

 

“How long have you felt like this about Wufei?” He countered, ignoring the question she had posed.

 

 

 

“Longer than I should have, considering the fact that I've known from the first that it was futile.” She replied. “I'm a fool, I know.”

 

 

 

“A fool? For falling in love? Would that we were all so foolish.” Treize said.

 

 

 

“Wufei was right.” Sally said. “You are a very nice man.” Treize smiled.

 

 

 

“He said that?” He asked.

 

 

 

“Many times.” She replied. “That and more. I have a confession to make.” She said. “There was a time when I thought I hated you too. It was just sour grapes really, because you had him and I didn't, but I'd convinced myself that you were a tyrant and a bully. For years Wufei tried to convince me otherwise, but I simply wouldn't listen to him. To his credit, he didn't think any less of me because I didn't like you, and he didn't let it affect his relationship with me. He so wanted the two of us to be friends, me and you. The other pilots had all accepted you and forgiven any past misdeeds, and he just wanted me to do the same. You see, he had jumped to his own conclusions as to the reasons for my animosity towards you, which suited me fine.”

 

 

 

Everything changed that day we met at the Shoreby Club and you asked me to assist with his corneal transplant surgery because you though it would make him feel less anxious. You were so worried about him and for the first time it became clear to me that you were utterly devoted to him and would do absolutely anything for him. Do you remember that day?” Treize smiled and nodded.

 

 

 

“How could I forget?” He replied. “You see, that was the day that I discovered your true feelings towards Wufei.”

 

 

 

Sally frowned, her gaze turning inwards as she cast her mind back over the meeting, striving to recall anything she might have said or done to give any hint, any clue. She thought she had always been so careful…

 

 

 

“Sally…?” She snapped to attention.

 

 

 

“I'm sorry - what was that?” She asked distractedly.

 

 

 

“I was saying that you needn't trouble to wrack your memory. You didn't actually say or do anything specific. It was nothing tangible - just the expression on your face in reaction to something I'd said or just the look in your eye sometimes. Then afterwards, your deep concern for him and your efforts on his behalf, well above and beyond the call of your duties as a physician. All of this served to confirm my initial conclusions, but that day at the Shoreby Club - it was as though a light suddenly snapped on in my head.” Sally smiled and shook her head fondly.

 

 

 

“Treize,” She said, “You are a very nice man and a very clever one too.”

 

 

 

“Not at all.” Treize said. “After all, as a person who is in love with Wufei myself, it is not inconceivable that I could easily spot another, is it? `Aithnionn ciaróg ciaróg eile!'[1]as the saying goes.”

 

 

 

“I have no idea what that means,” Sally said with a laugh, “But I think I get the gist.” Her expression grew grave. “I have to marry Warren. What else can I do? Go on mooning over Wufei? I've done that for long enough now. I have to get on with my life. All my friends are settled or have families. Even Wufei keeps asking me why I'm still single. Hah,” She laughed mirthlessly, “Well may he ask.”

 

 

 

“But to marry a man you don't love…” Treize began, but Sally cut him off.

 

 

 

“A man I don't love, but a man I like and respect very much.” She said with fervour. “Treize, I'm a realist. I know, as I'm sure do you, that many couples marry while starry-eyed over each other, but with time that initial ardour eventually cools to exactly what Warren and I have now. That `just-married' passion cannot possibly endure forever, but the respect and friendship that Warren and I share can, and very often does. It's what's left when the passion is spent. I can't give Warren the passion, but the rest he already has, and always will have.”

 

 

 

He knows I don't love him. I've never deceived him about that. He's still willing to take me on though, and I'm deeply honoured by that. I'll make him the best wife I possibly can, and maybe, with time, I will grow to love him. I can't promise anything though.” Sally shrugged resignedly. “A bird in the hand is worth two in a bush, and I'm not likely to get a better offer.” Treize gave a wry smile.

 

 

 

“Are you convinced now?” He asked. Her responding smile was filled with warmth.

 

 

 

“Yes,” She nodded, “I think I am.”

 

 

 

“In that case,” Treize said, “My congratulations to both of you. I wish you all best. I'm sure you'll both be very happy.” Sally broke into a broad grin. She rose from her seat, crossed to Treize and enfolded him in a warm embrace. When they parted, she remained at his side, kneeling beside his chair, their hands clasped.

 

 

 

“I have a favour to ask you.” She said.

 

 

 

“Of course. What is it?”

 

 

 

“Will you give me away?” She asked. “I don't have any family I could ask, and I can't think of anyone else I would rather have…” Her expression was hopeful but there was a distinct lack of optimism in her voice. Treize's eyes widened in surprise and astonishment.

 

 

 

“Me? I though… well...” He stammered uncharacteristically.

 

 

 

“What, Wufei? Talk sense,” She said good-humouredly when he nodded in affirmation, “He's shorter than me.”

 

 

[1] - One beetle knows another (an old Irish proverb)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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