Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Satin Stephanois ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Satin Stephanois - Part 2

By

DRL

Shortly after we graduated Quatre was suddenly laid low with quite severe abdominal pains. We were all quite worried at first, then he found out that he had gallstones. I was surprised to hear this, because I thought that this that was something that only people who ate a poor diet got and also, wasn't he kind of young for that sort of illness? Anyway, he went into hospital and underwent surgery to remove the gallstones. It was a relatively minor procedure and he was in and out quite quickly. Heero and I visited him often while he was recuperating at home. We found him physically well, but a little down because green-eyed Trowa was himself undergoing treatment at the schizophrenia clinic and Quatre was missing him very much.

The clinic did seem to help green-eyed Trowa very much, so Quatre thought it well worth the anguish and despair he always went through during their time apart from each other. Over time Quatre had told Heero and I a little more about Trowa's condition and the measures that were taken to treat and control it. As a result we understood him and his behaviour a lot better and we were able to treat and deal with him quite normally, even when he was going through one of his paranoiac periods.

Quatre got better, Heero eventually got himself a really good job and I opted to stay on at college to do a postgraduate course. Quatre decided to take a year or two off to do some travelling before settling down at WEI, so he and green-eyed Trowa hit the road. Heero and I didn't see all that much of them for the next couple of years, although we heard from them often and we received frequent postcards from them from various exotic locations around the globe.

They seemed to be having a thoroughly good time, until Q called me one day in a complete panic. He was extremely upset and he explained to me that he was calling from his apartment in town. He had been summoned back for an interview with his father. He answered the summons and Mr Winner told him that he considered it high time that Q took steps in the direction of producing an heir. He told him that he had already begun the search for a suitable `bride' for him, and that Dorothy Catalonia was top of the list. Apparently her father was not adverse to an alliance of the two families and he thought that, if Dorothy was approached in the correct manner, she might also be made to see the value of it.

Quatre was understandably having kittens. He had naively hoped that his father's resolve on this issue would have wavered by now, but it clearly had not. I could have told him this of course, but... Anyway, he was not only balking at the idea of an arranged marriage with Dorothy Catalonia, but more importantly, he was worried about what this latest bombshell would do to green-eyed Trowa's already fragile wits. He said his father had told him that the details of the `arrangement' would take some little time to work out, so at least he was not in any immediate danger of having to stand at the alter, whey-faced and trembling, while Dorothy Catalonia advanced up the aisle towards him on the arm of her father, but the sands were running out. There were no real words of comfort that I could offer him because the whole situation seemed to have the inevitability of a Greek tragedy about it but I mollified him as best I could and shortly afterwards he rang off.

Heero and I spent quite a bit of time with Quatre and green-eyed Trowa before they left again to continue their travels. They both seemed in fine fettle, in spite of everything. Although Trowa was well aware that Quatre's father heartily disapproved of Quatre's relationship with him, and he knew all about Mr Winner's plans for Quatre regarding the production of an heir, Quatre had always played the whole thing down so as not to cause any upset to Trowa, as he did now regarding this latest development. I really admired this in him, because having spoken to him just afterward, I knew exactly how seriously his father's words affected Quatre, but seeing him in the days following, while Trowa was around, one would have sworn that he had nothing on his mind but his hair. I think he missed his calling - he would have made a rare actor.

When their whirlwind visit was over, Quatre and Trowa resumed their travels and life for Heero and I settled back to normal. I completed my postgrad studies and did remarkably well. Heero persuaded me to study for a doctorate. He was doing very well in his job and was making more that enough money to keep us both and pay for my studies, so I agreed (although the prospect of being called `Dr Maxwell' for the rest of my life went some little way to convincing me). We moved out of our city apartment, bought a large house in the `burbs', a car and a dog, and became respectable citizens. I still retained my waist-length braid however - I could never be that respectable. Heero went out to work to `win the bread' and I stayed home to keep house and work on my Ph. D thesis. All very domestic, and all very wonderful. Life was very good.

About a year to a year and a half after Quatre and Trowa had left following Quatre's interview with his father, a strange incident occurred. I remember it as if it happened yesterday because the whole thing was so odd. It was around three o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. I was not working on my thesis that day, and I was busy in the laundry room folding some laundry, when I heard the doorbell. I went to answer it and to my utter amazement, who should be standing on the doorstep but Wufei. I ushered him in and asked him what on earth he was doing here, not that I wasn't pleased to see him, but he was supposed to be overseas with Quatre and Trowa. I asked him if his presence meant that Quatre and Trowa were back in town. He said no, it didn't, and something about the way in which he said it gave me the feeling that he wasn't telling me the truth. He then said that yes, Trowa was in town because he was back at the clinic for a while, but that Quatre was still overseas. I found this strange because while Trowa did occasionally have to return for treatment at the schizophrenia clinic, Quatre always came with him. Even though he couldn't go into the clinic with him, he always liked to be close by. I mentioned this and Wufei said that Quatre had sent him to be with Trowa instead. Now I knew that he wasn't telling the truth. Quatre would never do a thing like that. What would be the point of sending Wufei? If Trowa needed anything, it would be Quatre he wanted, not Wufei. Also, sending Wufei away meant that Quatre would have to fend for himself, a thing he has never had to do before in his life and would be entirely incapable of doing.

Wufei did not stay very long, but the longer he did stay the more convinced I grew that something was very wrong. He seemed preoccupied and distant, in fact, his behaviour was not unlike green-eyed Trowa's when in the grip of his paranoia. I didn't challenge him though. I offered him refreshment, which he refused. We chatted desultorily about various inconsequential matters, and all the while his eyes roamed around the room, alighting on everything else but my own, and he toyed nervously with his car keys. Several times he seemed to gather himself together as if to make an announcement of some kind, then his shoulders would sag again and the moment would pass. When he finally rose and abruptly took his leave, I hate to say it but I was relieved, so oppressive was his presence. I called Heero immediately, and so upset and unsettled was I by the visit, that he felt moved to come straight home and comfort me.

I never did find out what that visit of Wufei's was all about. I called Quatre later that day but got no answer, which was by no means unusual when he was overseas, so I thought nothing of it. However I did hear from him a few days later. When I told him that Wufei had dropped by, he sounded surprised, and a little apprehensive I thought. I also told him of my surprise that he did not accompany Trowa to the clinic. He attempted a light laugh and said that as Trowa would only be gone for a short time, he thought he would try to get by on his own. As I said before, Quatre could be a consummate actor when he wanted to be, but he did not convince me this time. I allowed him to keep his secret however, and simply asked him if he was feeling okay. His voice had seemed a little weak and strained to me. He said that he was fine, but that he was feeling a little sad and depressed because he was missing Trowa. I did my best to cheer him up, which I seemed to have succeeded in doing by the end of the conversation, then promising to call again soon, he rang off.

Time went by and we saw Quatre and Trowa only occasionally, as they were still spending most of their time overseas. Quatre's `year or two' off had become almost four years by now, and counting. It looked to me as though he had absolutely no intention of joining his father's firm. It was at this time that another strange thing happened and unbeknown to me at the time, this heralded the beginning of the end. I received a call from Quatre as I was lazing around in the house one Sunday afternoon, and he excitedly asked me,

"Duo, guess where I'm calling from." After a few stabs in the dark, I gave up and admitted defeat. "I'm calling from The House." He supplied triumphantly.

"The Winner House?" I asked with not a little incredulity, since Heero and I received a postcard from him and green-eyed Trowa only the previous week, featuring a very nice picture of Ayres Rock and informing us what a wonderful time they were having in New Zealand.

"Yes," He confirmed, "And Trowa's here with me. We're going to stay for a while." I began to ask him how this miracle had been achieved, since the last I heard the name of Trowa Barton was anathema to Quatre's father, but he cut me off. "I only called to invite you and Heero to dinner tonight. If you have any plans, cancel them. We'll expect you at seven for cocktails. Dinner will be at eight. It'll be formal so wear black tie, and don't be late! I'll explain everything when I see you."

Quatre never did `explain everything'. We arrived for dinner on time and suitably attired, and Mr Winner was as congenial a host as he usually was, with the exception that his hospitality had been extended to green-eyed Trowa for the first time ever. One would never have known it though. He behaved throughout as though Trowa was a much-loved son-in-law, and as though dinner all together was a regular and most welcome occurrence. Whenever I tried to ask Quatre what had happened to make his father extend the olive branch to such an extent, he artfully steered around the question, babbling on about this, that and the next, never really answering it. The thing was, I couldn't really work out whether he was just too excited about the whole evening or whether he was deliberately evading the question. I let it go. The fact was that Quatre and his father were reconciled, and I didn't want to look that particular gift horse in the mouth.

I found out another wonderful thing that evening. It seemed that not only had Mr Winner extended the hand of friendship to green-eyed Trowa, he had also withdrawn his demands regarding Quatre's producing an heir and Q was now free to do and live as he pleased. `Well, lucky Quatre', I thought, `all his problems are over'. Little did I know.

Even though Quatre and Trowa were now living in the same city as Heero and I, just as when we were students, we did not see each other as much as we had back then. Our lives were very different now. We were much older, we had more responsibilities (well Heero and I did anyway), and we had better things to do than hang out at each others' houses. Even so, it was good having them back, and knowing that they were both close at hand and very happy. Wufei moved into the Winner House also, although he was now perforce somewhat superfluous as Quatre's `keeper'. It was good for him to be with his father again also, so it seemed to work out all round.

Heero had a wonderful stroke of luck, in that his company had asked him to go Japan to set up a new office they were opening over there. Heero is of Japanese extraction, and had been born and had spent most of his childhood in Japan. He was excited about going back to his homeland, although he was a little apprehensive also, since not all of his memories of his childhood days in Japan were good ones. I was allowed to go with him, and I was also excited about seeing his roots, where he came from. I thought it would be an important trip for both of us. I had never been there and he had never been back since leaving her shores many years ago, so it was a first for us both. We had a wonderful three months, although I worried about Mitzi, our Finnish Spitz, almost incessantly. We left her with a neighbour and after a little initial pining, she seemed to settle down quite well. Then I began to worry that she would forget us and not want to come home. I think I almost drove Heero mad. Anyway, it was a very successful trip for him and a very enlightening one for me, but we were both very glad to get home.

We came home to a mountain of mail, and as I sorted the `wheat from the chaff', I recognised Wufei's handwriting on one of the envelopes. It was postmarked only a few days previously. I was puzzled as to why Wufei would send a letter rather than just call, so I ripped open the envelope.

Duo and Heero

Please call me as soon as you return. Do not call the Winner House, call me on my cellphone. This is very important.

Wufei

That was all it said. As I read it an ominous feeling of dread welled up in the pit of my stomach. As I stood there stupidly reading and re-reading the note, Heero came in. He was about to go across the street to retrieve Mitzi from our neighbour, but as he took the note from my nerveless fingers and read it, he decided to leave her where she was for the moment. He gently sat me down on the sofa, reached for the phone and called Wufei.

The conversation was brief. A few affirmative grunts from Heero were all I heard before he hung up and turned to me.

"He's coming over." He said. He then sat next to me on the sofa and took me in his arms.

Neither of us wasted any time speculating as to what we thought might have happened. We both knew that whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be good. We sat there, holding each other until Wufei arrived, our joy at finally being back home forgotten.

When Wufei arrived Heero rose to let him in. I didn't go to the door but I was on my feet when Heero showed him into the room.

"Wufei what's happened, where's Quatre?" I asked anxiously. Heero had crossed the room to stand beside me. Together we stared expectantly at Wufei. It was then that I took in Wufei's appearance. He looked tired, haggard and utterly drained. Dark circles ringed his red-rimmed eyes and his coal-black hair hung limp and lifeless around his drooping shoulders, as if he couldn't even summon up the energy to tie it back in its customary pony tail.

"Duo," He began, then he looked from me to Heero, then back to me again. "Duo, Quatre's dead."

I have only a hazy recollection of what happened after that. I remember my knees giving way beneath me and Heero's strong arms breaking my fall. I also remember crying, quite a lot. It seemed as though I cried for a whole week solid, but I can't have can I? It must only have been hours, perhaps only minutes. I think I must have been hysterical, because Heero went out and fetched our neighbour, the one who was looking after Mitzi. He was a doctor and I remember him injecting me with something. I remember that distinctly because it hurt, but mercifully I soon forgot everything and drifted into a dreamless oblivion. It was too good to last however, and I eventually came to and had to face the reality and the enormity of what Wufei had told us. I was calmer by then, completely numb in fact, and I was able to listen to the circumstances of my best friend's death.

Quatre had been suffering from stomach cancer for the past six years. He was diagnosed shortly after we graduated, although he had been having symptoms long before that. He didn't want to worry anyone, so he kept it to himself. The only person who knew about it from the start was Wufei, and he only told Wufei because Quatre knew that he would need to enlist some help in order to keep it from everyone else. His tumour was quite well advanced by the time he sought medical attention, and he knew pretty much from the outset that his case was terminal, but it was decided that removal by surgery might provide a temporary remission. This was the gallstones operation. He had apparently asked his doctors for the name of a non-serious condition that had symptoms similar to those he had been experiencing. This way he sought to deflect any curiosity from friends and family regarding his health. I remember thinking at the time that Quatre hardly seemed to fit the profile of gallstones sufferers, but I saw no reason to look enquire any further and neither, it seems, did anyone else. He succeeded in throwing dust in all of our eyes quite nicely.

He even fooled green-eyed Trowa, and green-eyed Trowa was closer to him than anyone else. Wufei told us that this was the real reason for the schizophrenia clinic. Apparently if it hadn't been for his illness, Quatre would never had allowed green-eyed Trowa to enter an institution, which when all was said and done, as expensive and luxurious as it undoubtedly was, this is ultimately what the clinic amounted to. Quatre always suggested a visit to the clinic to Trowa whenever he felt his symptoms coming on. So that Trowa would not see and become upset by his obvious suffering, he sent him away to the clinic. This was a useful expedient for Quatre because not only did it keep green-eyed Trowa out of the way, it did him the power of good also. This was also why he spent so much time overseas. That way he would not have to deal with untimely visits from well-meaning friends (meaning Heero and me). One had to admire Quatre, he was definitely an artful deceiver.

He could have prolonged his life had he agreed to chemo or radiotherapy, but he flatly refused. Such treatments had very visible and debilitating side-effects, and once again, Trowa was to be kept in the dark as long as possible. This whole elaborate charade was purely for green-eyed Trowa's benefit. Quatre knew that they only had a limited time left together, and he wanted that time to be a happy time for Trowa, not spent watching him waste away, balding and toothless as a result of chemotherapy. He opted for the surgery, which would give him as long as it gave him, and then when the tumours returned, as he knew they would, he decided to have no treatment at all, until the end came.

"But why didn't he tell us?" I wailed as Wufei related the story. I could understand him keeping it from green-eyed Trowa, but from us? I was so hurt by the fact that Quatre did not deem even Heero and I worthy of his confidence, that I started crying all over again.

"It wasn't that he didn't trust you to keep his secret," Wufei reassured me, "He knew very well that you would take it to your grave if need be, it was jus that he knew that you loved him too much to be able to treat him normally if you knew, and he was afraid that Trowa would pick up on that. Remember, Trowa suffered from paranoid delusions, and you know how his mind could sometimes distort his perception, and how perfectly normal statements and occurrences could take on a new and sinister meaning for him." Wufei was right. Heero and I knew this only too well, having been intimately acquainted with green-eyed Trowa for over eight years. "Well this was why he didn't tell you. He just couldn't be sure that by some..., no not word, because he knew that you would never give him away verbally, but by some gesture, because of your concern for him, you might not arouse Trowa's suspicion and as you know very well, it is a very bad idea to lie to a paranoid schizophrenic."

I understood, but his words were cold comfort to me. The person I considered dearer to me than a brother had been dying for six years, and I new nothing about it. I never even guessed that anything was wrong! No, this was not quite true. There were times that I suspected that something was definitely wrong, but I never guessed that it could be anything like this. What kind of a friend must I have been? I then turned my abject grief and self-recrimination upon Wufei.

"And you?" I raved at him, "How could you not have told us? How could you have let him die and not told us? We could have helped him, I'm sure we could have done something." I broke down weeping again.

"I wanted to." Wufei said lamely. "I wanted him to. Believe me, I begged him to tell you, or to let me tell you. I kept telling him that it would be worse for you when the end came if you hadn't known beforehand. He acknowledged that I was right, but he would not risk Trowa's happiness. It was between you and Trowa, and I'm sorry Duo, that was one battle that you would never win. `Heero will help him' he would say, whenever the subject came up.

I almost did tell you." He continued. "Do you remember that day when I came round to see you out of a blue sky, and you were folding the laundry?" I remembered only too well. "Well I made up my mind to tell you everything that day. If you recall, Trowa was in the clinic, and you expressed surprise that Quatre was not with him. The reason he had not come was that he was too ill to travel. He was actually in a hospital in Buenos Ares at the time I was sitting in your kitchen making polite conversation, and I believe that he phoned you from there a few days later, when he was able to speak. I got Trowa out of the way quickly by telling him that Quatre's father was in Buenos Ares on a on a business trip, and wanted to see Quatre. He knew that that meant that his presence would not be required, so he and I went on to the clinic ahead, him thinking that Quatre would follow on later. Trowa was far from happy about leaving him, but he saw that he had no real choice."

"So why didn't you tell me that day?" I asked.

"I just couldn't bring myself to betray Quatre's confidence." He replied. "He had constructed this cocoon around Trowa so carefully, that I just couldn't take the responsibility of telling you upon myself. What if he was right, and because of something you did, albeit unwittingly, the whole house of cards came tumbling down around his ears? What would I do then? No, I'm sorry but I just couldn't do it."

I nodded absently, not able to summon up the will to do anything more. I felt drained, drained of tears, drained of emotion, even drained of life.

He went on to tell us the reason for Quatre's father's sudden change of heart. It was because Quatre felt the end was coming and he didn't want to die far away from his home, his friends and his family. He actually told his father everything. Well that changed everything and Mr Winner decided to allow Quatre to live out his days in any way he chose to.

"He wanted to tell you too, at the end, but you were overseas and he didn't want to interrupt Heero's business trip. He knew how important it was for you." He turned to Heero as he said this.

"What about Trowa?" I asked, suddenly revitalised, "He must be devastated, where is he?" I tried to scramble to my feet, but Heero tightened his hold on me fixing me in position against his broad chest.

"It's alright," He said soothingly. "He's at the Winner House. While you were under sedation Wufei and I made arrangements to drive out there as soon as you were able to travel."

"We have to be quick." Wufei said. "I didn't want to leave him because there is no-one else there to really look out for him and I'm very worried about what he might do. I managed to locate Catherine and she is on her way. She will be able to help me take care of Trowa, but she will take a day or so to get here. Eveyone else is too caught up in their own grief to spare a thought for Trowa, and they don't know about his condition. Only Mr Winner knows, and his thoughts are most definitely elsewhere. I came out to tell you the news, because I didn't want you to come to the house without being prepared. There is a news blackout on the story for a while, but not even the Winner PR machine will be able to contain it for long. You came back just in time because I was worried that you might learn about it in the papers, and I wanted to avoid that at all cost."

We made our way to the Winner House as soon as we could, but we were too late. By the time we got there green-eyed Trowa had attempted to re-join his beloved Quatre by the simple expedient of walking into Mr Winner's study, taking a small calibre revolver out of the desk drawer, putting it to his head and pulling the trigger. We heard the shot as we entered the house, and we were the first to arrive on the scene. The emergency services were called and he was rushed to hospital, but he was pronounced dead on arrival.

There is not much more to say. Six months later and I am doing much better than I was. Heero has been so patient with me, I don't know how he does it. Even though it was a crucial time for him at work, especially after the Japan trip, he took a sabbatical to look after me. `There will be other opportunities' he says, whenever I mention the fact that I have ruined his career. My doctorate is also on hiatus for the moment. I don't think I will ever complete it now. Even the thought of `Dr Maxwell', has lost its appeal.

It hit me hard, but I think it hit Wufei even harder, and unfortunately he doesn't have a Heero to help him through it. He stays here with us sometimes, but I don't think he likes to, because it reminds him too much. It reminds him of the fact that if it hadn't been for us, for me, he might have been able to save Trowa. It looks as though I'm just destined to ruin everything for everyone doesn't it? Heero tells me not to talk like that, but it's true isn't it?

I think of Quatre and green-eyed Trowa often. All the time, in fact. I wonder if they are happy where they are. I think they must be, because at least they are together and they were always happiest when they were together. Trowa survived Quatre by four days. They were buried together in the Winner family vault, so Quatre was not quite correct when he said that only death would part Trowa and he. Not even death could do that.

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