Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Solace ❯ Recovery ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I'm a pobre little being. Poor na poor talaga. I don't own GW or any of its characters. I wish I did though.

Solace

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I never thought I would ever experience this moment. I never thought I would ever get this far.

...This priceless moment.

Silently, I watch her coo our son to sleep.

She is swaying back and forth on the rocking chair that I purchased for her, while cradling our son in her arms. My mother never lived to lull me to sleep with her voice, but just watching the two of them makes it seem like I have experienced it before.

She doesn't know that I am there.

For a while, she didn't know about things that were there, waiting for her. She didn't know because she was busy chasing something else that was not for her.

I have watched her so many times before, and like so many times before, she never did acknowledge my presence. Either I have spent too much time with Heero, and learned to be seemingly invisible, or that she has always chosen to ignore me...

I remember the day when I sat next to her, and especially, the way she looked while she witnessed Millardo promise his love to another...

I can perfectly remember how beautiful she looked...I can also remember how sad she was.

Her long mass of hair was put up in a tight bun, and her face, looked serious against the glowing sun. Her hands were on her sides, and I saw them begin to curl up, as if recoiling in pain. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, and she sat there looking so distant that she looked as if she was in a trance of some sort.

She was oblivious to those all around her. Her main focus was concentrated on the long-haired man, standing on the altar.

The orange sun was about to set outside, and the quiet ceremony was performed inside a cathedral in front of friends and colleagues. The bride and groom were standing on the altar, in the verge of tears as they professed their love and promises to one another.

She was sitting on a wooden pew, in the verge of tears as her heart began to chip off, piece by piece.

Although the look on her face was readable, she tried, so hard, not to shed a tear. She tried her best to look as calm and composed, but I could see in her eyes that all she wanted was to dissolve into the pew that she was sitting on. She took quick but quiet breaths, and balled her hands up in fists to try to ease the tears away, and even though I never saw the tears fall, I saw that the tears stayed in her eyes.

I could tell that she was trying to be strong. I could tell that she forced herself to face this even though she wanted to take Noin's place at the altar.

It broke my heart to watch her inflict pain on herself like that. It broke my heart to see that she was crying for a man who was vowing his love to someone else while I was there, watching and waiting for her to finally realize that she was looking for the right things from the wrong man.

She couldn't realize that I was the right man offering all the right things that she has always needed and wanted.

I couldn't realize that I was but a boy to her...

How foolish we both were.

Although it tasted like bitter milk, I swallowed up my fears and reached for her hand and covered it with mine. Sharply, she turned toward me, and I could see my reflection in her tear-laden eyes. For a few seconds, she looked at me as if I was intruding into her private moment, but then her eyes softened. A few moments later, she lowered them and cast her look upon the ground. She made no attempt to jerk my hand away.

I hoped that she would not make an attempt to jerk what I was offering away.

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and without looking at me, her mouth twisted in half a smile as a sign of her appreciation.

"You see too much," I heard her say. Her voice was merely a whisper, and I could tell that it took a lot for her to even do that. She didn't like being seen at such a weak moment like that. There was so much that I wanted to say to her, so little opportunity, and so great a risk that I didn't even know where to start.

So, I said nothing. We just ended up sitting there with her hand on my own as Millardo and Noin were married under the setting sun.

It was a few more months until I saw her again. In between Millardo and Noin's wedding and the time that I saw her again, I would find myself stopping in the middle of my paperwork or in the middle of the night, thinking about her.

I wondered if she was well, what she was doing, what she was thinking about... if she was thinking of me.

Or was she thinking about him?

...Of course she was.

I thought about what I would say, or how I would even approach her. I thought about the things that I wanted with her, the things I wish I made her feel, those things that just made me a fool, a hopeless romantic.

...But if you think of something constantly and...You think hard...it just might be.

I saw her again outside a quaint coffee shop, quietly sipping her coffee and minding her own business. She was wearing a white, cotton sundress, with no frills or lace, and she had a pair of sunglasses resting on top of her head.

I thought it was a lovely spring afternoon. It was made lovelier by the fact that I had a chance to talk to her again. I was not going to let this pass me by.

I was driving my new toy down the small road, and even though I was on the other side of the street, I quickly distinguished her face and slammed on the tires. I parked my car and told myself to "casually" walk in to the coffee shop as if I never saw her there before I walked in.

I strode in, almost unsure of myself, but the back of my head kept nagging me to walk her way.

What made me unsure was the fact that I didn't exactly know why I wanted to pursue her. I guess I never will find out what keeps drawing me to her, but I do know that whatever it is, it will keep me drawn to her.

When she saw me, I was disappointed to find that there was no spark in her eyes every time she looked at Millardo, but she quickly recognized me and plastered a polite smile on her face. I was not completely satisfied with that, but at the moment, it was better than a snobby frown.

As I approached her, she motioned for me to join her. I quickly submitted myself and took a seat next to her.

"I want to thank you for what you did," she began, her eyes provoking me with those dull-blue depths of hers.

Once again, I found myself speechless even though I had so much to say. I could only force out a dumbfounded nod.

"I-It...Was foolish of me to be caught in such an embarrassing situation like that...but I'm glad it was you who saw. I know you would understand," she continued.

"Thank you," I managed out sheepishly.

There was an air of silence after I croaked out a lame reply. I wanted to beat myself for wasting my time and not grasping the opportunity to reveal a part of what I wished to say to her. Instead of beating myself, I opened my mouth to speak.

"How are things going? I'm assuming that you're well, Quatre?" she asked, beating me to it.

I felt my head twitch. My brain scrambled for a reply.

"Things are going well, I think," I lied. My gaze shifted to her, "What about you, Dorothy, how have you been since the last time that I saw you?" I asked.

I saw discomfort and hesitation in her eyes, but she forced a smile in an attempt to cover it all up. "I have been better..." there was a pause, and I'm not sure if she wanted to say something and quickly dismissed it because she thought that she would look pathetic to me if she revealed too much emotion or if she didn't really know how to continue.

"...I'm just trying to pick the pieces up now that my dream is shattered. I have to start anew," she quickly finished.

"I don't think your dream was ever shattered, Miss Dorothy. I think your dream is just out there waiting for you to grasp it." I didn't want to provoke her, I just wanted to steer her to the right direction.

It must have been selfish to think of myself at a time like that, but I didn't think of that at that moment. All I wanted to do was to steer her to my direction.

Instead of a sly remark or an icy stare, she nodded her head in agreement.

"You're absolutely right. I don't think that I was ever in love with him. I...think I was just infatuated with Millardo," she replied.

"What about some dinner?" I stupidly blurted out, even though I wanted to question her feelings.

She tried to suppress a chuckle, but it came out anyway. I expected her to turn me down, but instead she smiled brightly to me and reached for my hand across the table, the same way I reached for hers months before. Her fingers were warm against my cool hand and I wanted to pull back as if I felt some jolt of electricity. A single brush of her hand could electrify me.

"It's only four-thirty, but I'd love to," she said, smiling.

I took her to this small Italian restaurant a few blocks from the coffee shop. I found it strange how the hostess gave put us in the back corner table.

The rest of the afternoon seemed so much like a blur, because we had such a good time. It was not awkward as I expected it to be, mainly because she entertained my questions and opened up. We talked about everything from the war to how many times we have watched Cinema Paradiso. I realized that we had much more common than I thought.

I wondered what she realized about me.

"Are you seeing anybody, Quatre?" she asked as she took a sip from her wine glass.

"I'm all tangled up in this...arranged marriage," I lied, wanting to see her reaction.

Would she care? Of course not...she cared too much for Millardo to even consider caring about me.

She placed her wine glass down. "Are you really?" she raised an eyebrow. She only seemed curious.

I laughed quietly. "I was just kidding. I'm not seeing anybody. Nobody wants me," I said, stupidly. My cheeks flushed immediately after I finished my sentence.

She swatted my hand playfully and shook her head. "I actually believed that you were betrothed. I was beginning to think that this dinner wasn't such a good idea if your fiancée found out."

"What about you? Are you tangled up in an arranged marriage?" I asked. I desperately wanted to know. I doubted that there was someone other than Millardo, for she had such strong feelings for him, and probably still did. I just had to know.

"No...at least I don't think so," she said, running her fingers through her hair uneasily.

"Were you very much in love with him?" I thought my question was too intruding, but my curiosity was killing me inside.

I made her cringe and lick her lips nervously.

"I thought I was, but I really wasn't...whatever it was, it was one-sided. He cared for Noin too much that there really was no space for me," she said.

No matter how much I did not want to admit it, I did know that she was lying about her feelings for him. She was still somewhat in love with him. But I did agree that it was one-sided.

"I'm sure that you will find someone else," I replied. 'If you looked harder, you will find that I am that someone else,' I wanted to say.

She looked at me curiously, and for a fraction of a second, I thought that she knew what I meant to say. I shifted my eyes away to avoid embarrassment to find that night had come. I glanced at the clock by the bar and saw that it was already nine-thirty. We had spent five hours together.

"What's the matter?" she instantly asked.

My attention went back to her.

"It's getting late," I said.

She looked at her wrist watch and almost laughed.

"I'm twenty-two Quatre, I'm no longer sixteen. Did you think I had a curfew?" she asked, grinning.

"I just thought that maybe you had something important to do and I didn't want to cause you any trouble," I replied.

"...Something important? No...You're not causing me any trouble. This isn't trouble at all. This is important...just sitting here, and talking."

I was about to reply, when three men with violins approached us and began to play. She bit her lip, and I saw it as a sign of discomfort. We both wanted privacy, no matter how open our conversations were. I took out a few bills out of my pocket to pay the violinists.

They thanked us for the money, but what was said after that got to me though.

"It is always a pleasure to play for two people who are in love," one of the violinists said with his thick accent. They then turned around and approached another couple.

She smiled at me uneasily.

"Want to get out of here?" she asked me.

"Whenever you want to," I replied.

I insisted on paying the bill, but she insisted on going Dutch. After refusing many times, she finally let me pay the bill and I took her out for a drive in my new toy. We passed through a mass of trees, the river, buildings... and the rest of that was all a blur. All I could remember was how the wind combed our hair and the way she looked that night.

'Just the way you look tonight...'

"I don't see why you even have to bother walking me up here for no reason," she said looking back at me as she looked for her keys.

"It's no problem. It's rather late and I just want to see you home."

I found myself inching closer and closer to her.

"Did you want to come inside and have some coffee?" she asked as she unlocked her door.

She faced me, expecting a reply, but a reply could not come out of my mouth. I had come too close to her. I was too distracted by the nearness of her to even try to reply. Her perfume intoxicated me, her eyes mesmerized me and the beating of her heart petrified me.

Our faces came closer and closer to meeting, and our noses finally touched, but I pulled away.

"I don't want any coffee...thank you," I stupidly said, aching to kiss her, our faces still close.

Disappointment filled her eyes.

"Yes...like you said - it's getting rather late...and," she trailed off.

She painfully pulled away ever so gently and I wanted to beat myself once again for ruining a breathtaking moment. She extended her hand and I gladly shook it.

"Thank you, Quatre, for the happiest night I have ever had in years," she said, her voice subtle.

"You're welcome," I whispered, with my hand still clutching hers.

I found it hard to let go of her hand, and I found myself wanting to kiss her. She pressed her lips together and I let go of her hand uneasily.

"Good night," she smiled faintly.

"Good night."

She went inside the room and before she could close it, I put my hand against the door, preventing her from closing it.

She looked at me expectantly.

"Wait...when will I see you again?"

She smiled with satisfaction.

"Not for a while..." she paused and fiddled with the doorknob, "At least, not until tomorrow night."

I smiled back.

Surprisingly, she showed up at my hotel room door the afternoon after in the middle of my violin playing. I nearly stumbled going to the door as I heard the doorbell ring. I smoothed my hair back and turned the doorknob. When I opened the door, she took her sunglasses off and flashed me her signature smile.

"I know it's a little sooner than tonight, but are you available, anyway?"

Once again, I quickly surrendered myself.

"Sure...I - come in and have a seat while I...wrap things up," I quickly replied, frightened with the mess I made. Sheets of music were scattered on the floor, and my violin was sitting sloppily on the coffee table.

She curiously looked at my violin as she entered the room.

"I wish I had the talent to play the violin. I suppose I never had the encouragement because all my grandfather cared about was training me for the war," she said.

Even though she made no direct or indirect reference, I could see the hurt there. Growing up must have been difficult for her because of the fact that she did not receive much love from those around her. She was orphaned young, and her grandfather only used her as a tool of war. She sought an older man to fill in the empty space that her father or her grandfather could not fulfill.

Before she said those words to me, I often wondered why she was so in love with him. At the very moment the words left her mouth, I instantly knew why. She needed a father figure. Like everyone else, she needed to love and be loved in return. Too bad she only loved those who did not last long enough or did not care enough to satisfy that need.

Within five minutes we were out of the hotel, leaving the mess forgotten. She insisted that she drive and I could understand her insisting because of the top of the line convertible she owned. The deep green car seated only two, but had tan leather seats, a video-phone, navigation system and aluminum trim.

I looked at her and I didn't know what she wanted to accomplish by spending time with me. I didn't know if she wanted to forget Millardo completely by spending time with me or if she was only amusing herself. It wasn't easy to think of these things, but my selfish side thought that it was unfair if she was only using me to entertain herself.

She must have noticed that I have been looking at her intently while she drove. Her head did not move to face me, but I could see that her eyes rolled to her side.

"Are you wondering where we're going, Quatre?" she asked, without taking her eyes off of the road.

"Yes-No...I don't know..." I quickly replied.

She smiled.

"I don't know where we're going, either."

We ended up in a small café bookstore a few miles away. The place seemed deserted, but it was the perfect place for some privacy.

"As a child, I didn't really like books, mainly because I found them a bore and a waste of time, but after the war, I had nothing to do. One afternoon, I just found myself sitting in that dreary old study at home, with a ton of books around me," she told me as she slammed her car door.

"A few months ago, I found this place. It's very simple and humble, and the owners are very nice. They serve very good coffee," she continued on.

I looked at her in a funny way. It was hard to believe that she was once this war-hungry girl who had tried to kill me. Now she was a lovesick woman who liked to indulge herself with coffee and books.

As we went in, I realized that what she had said was true. The bookstore was simple, but there was something peaceful about it. My presidential suite was much larger than the store, and I could see that the furniture was somewhat worn, but the place had some kind of homey atmosphere to it. I felt like flinging myself into one of the plush seats that were placed there.

It is strange how people like Dorothy and I appreciate simple things such as a modest bookstore, when we have been pampered by servants and spoiled rotten all our lives.

"Did you want coffee, Dorothy?" I asked her.

"No, no thank you," she said. She made her way through the small rows to look for a book.

I followed her and she began to show me her favorite books. Most of the books she liked were classics and romantic novels. I wanted to tell her that most of the romantic novels were trash, but I realized that I couldn't.

...She was a hopeless romantic, just like me.

We spent our growing years during the war. Childhood was practically stripped away from us. We were still children somehow, someway. Realizing so many things about her made me wonder about what she realized about me. I just wish that she would say more and open up without hesitation or qualms.

She left me to my thoughts to look at magazines a few steps away. I saw that she picked up a wedding magazine.

She was nonchalantly flipping through the pages, when she quickly froze. I heard her gasp. She looked deathly white and she looked the same way she did months ago, when we were in Millardo's wedding. She held the magazine in what looked like a death grip. I feared for the worst, and my mind told me to keep myself from looking at the magazine, but I never listen to my mind. I quickly walked over and covered the hand that had the magazine in it, and I felt the grip soften to my touch. I looked at it to discover for myself that she was looking at a picture of Millardo and his arm around his wife.

I let go of the magazine and my hand fell to my side. I wasn't shocked or surprised. I just felt defeated that my suspicions about her feelings for him were confirmed. I wanted proof, and now I've gotten it. She still loved him after all. I felt even more defeated that there was nothing I could do about it.

"I..." she started gasping for air. She dropped the magazine. She looked at me, and cast her eyes down in embarrassment. Before I could react, she ran out of the bookstore. The few people who were there had their eyes peeled on the door that she slammed.

There was nothing I could do but pick up the magazine and put it back on the rack. After doing so, I turned around to find that the customers were looking at me, waiting expectantly for my next move. I just sighed, and walked out of the bookstore. I found her in the parking lot, leaning against the driver's side of the car. She had her arms folded and she had her gaze fixated on the ground.

She looked so vulnerable that all I wanted to do was comfort her. But I also did not want her to push me away.

"Are you ready?" she asked distantly, without looking at me. Her eyes were still on the ground.

As if by instinct, I gathered her in my arms and held her tightly. She was tense but relaxed after I soothed her by running my hand quickly up and down her back. She buried her face on my shoulder.

"Ready when you are," I whispered.

She pulled away from me, and looked up at me. Her eyes were not teary, but her eyes were soft and revealed too much. At least, to me it seemed that way. I could see pain and sadness there...mingled with some kind of confusion. How was it that I could read her so easily?

She looked at my eyes some more, as if she was searching for an answer.

"I'm sorry you had to waste your time with me...I'm also sorry I'm glad you're here to comfort me when I need it. You seem to know what I'm going through even though I don't say much about it."

After that, she turned around to get in the car. I speculated that she quickly forgot about me after she drove off of the parking lot. She looked dazed, and I could see that she was driving thoughtlessly.

What was she thinking about?

After driving for what seemed like an eternal trip to nowhere, she suddenly slammed the brakes when she saw something that looked like a bar to me. I was nearly thrown to the dashboard. She touched my arm and I felt a jolt of electricity there.

"Quatre, darling, won't you buy me a drink?" she looked at me confidently, and expected me to look after her as if I was her keeper or servant of some sort. It made me very uneasy to see her want to drink only because she saw an article about him and his new wife.

Damn him. This guy was so damn lucky and he didn't even know it.

I desperately wanted to say no, but at that moment, I could never have refused her. I only nodded because I didn't know what else to say. I knew that she wanted to get drunk that night.

She tried to smile, but to no avail. She just looked more wretched than she already was.

"Good. I know I can always count on you," she said.

She quickly parallel parked the car, grabbed her purse, and rushed to get in to the bar.

She asked for a martini and I told the bartender that I only wanted soda. The bartender gave me a suggestive smirk which I pretended to not notice.

After she had a few martinis, I sighed and told myself that I could not take anymore.

"Excuse me? Bartender...I'd like another martini...please," she said sluggishly. She was drunk. I wanted to kick myself for letting this happen to her.

"No, no more martinis for you," I said.

I drew out a few bills out of my pocket and placed them on the bar. I grabbed her arm and purse and managed to get her out of her chair.

"...But I thought you were going to take care of me? I'm not drunk yet!" she said droopily. She might have thought that she was not drunk, but a normal human being would have thought so. The bartender looked at the two of us like he had seen many of these scenes. I knew that he was thinking that I was only taking her away to take advantage of her, but I didn't really care about what he or what anyone else thought about at the moment.

"You've had enough. I'm taking you home," I said firmly.

She quickly moaned in protest, but she was weak and helpless. I dragged her limp body out of the bar and when we got outside; I carried her to the car. She tried to object, but she was getting sleepy. I placed her on the passenger seat. Once I put her down, she rested her head on the seat and I looked for the car keys in her purse.

Finally finding them, I slammed the passenger door shut and ran to the other side. I started the car and pulled out into the road.

As the stoplight flashed red, I slammed on the brakes. I looked at her to see that she was asleep. I tucked in the stray hairs that were covering her face and ran my fingers across her cheek. I thought I saw a faint smile and her face leaning towards my hand, but it was too dark to really notice. I noticed that the shadow of green replaced the red one on her face and I put my hand back on the steering wheel and resumed my driving.

When we finally reached her place, I turned the engine off and saw that her house keys were with the car keys which solved the problem for me. I carried her sleeping form up the steps and to the door. I blindly made my way through her small loft, and found the couch right away. I placed her there to look for lights. After a few moments of running my hands on the walls, I found a switch, flipped it, and found something that looked like her bedroom door. I picked her up again and placed her on the canopy bed that was fit for a queen.

I removed her shoes and pulled the blanket to place over her.

When I placed the shoes on the floor beside her, she began to say words that I could not make out. I looked up and leaned over her. She opened her eyes slowly to look at me.

"Quatre?" she asked.

I was relieved that she recognized me despite the fact that she was thinking about Millardo for the past few hours.

"Yes...it's me," I whispered.

"Take care of me...please?" she pleaded.

"Y-yes," I replied.

She moved over to make room for me and looked at the empty space. I looked at it for a few moments before I took my shoes off and climbed in.

She quickly rested her head against my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist the moment I lay my body on the bed. I was taken aback for a moment, partly because of the nearness of her and partly because her action was just so unexpected. My brain was telling me to act with propriety and get out of the bed, but I really didn't know how to react. My arms ignored my brain and my arms wrapped about her.

"Its friends like you who I can truly count on. Thank you," she whispered.

Even though my arms were around her and she was resting comfortably against me, my body felt stiff. Before I could come up with a reply to her thanks or a good night, I felt the regular rising and falling of her chest.

At that moment, I didn't know what to feel...how to feel, even. Grateful because I finally had my arms around the woman that I have been dreaming about for so long? ...Or unhappy, or perhaps even angry that I was only a friend to her? I was truly confused.

I was somewhat scared to admit it, but I finally realized that this woman with the piercing blue-gray eyes had moved me in a way that I have never known and in the process, captured my heart. I was falling for her.

I lay there, hoping that she would someday tell me that she felt the same way.

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