Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ True North ❯ True North, Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

True North

Chapter 6

Pairing: 2x1

Category: AU

Warning: OC kid, angst due to shit hitting the fan.

Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta reading!

The clock on Moira's cell phone read 15:56. She closed her eyes and sighed. Four more minutes and she was done with the lab, two more hours after that and she could go home.

Of course, that was assuming Quatre, their TA, gave them the all-clear after his inspection of their lab areas. Usually that was the case, but there had been a few offenders that had left out a few rulers or weights, depending on what the experiment was that day. One of the rules with Quatre's labs was that nobody could leave until they got the all-clear, so any delays pissed Moira off a great deal.

She froze as Quatre stopped at the station next to her. He reached over and picked something up off the lab counter, then turned to the two people there: Ben Stewart and Lily Tao.

"Were you two planning on saving this for the next pair to clean up?" he asked in his usual mild tenor. As Lily stammered for an answer, her glossy pink lips opening and closing wordlessly, Moira spotted a washer that her partner Ron Page failed to pick up. While Quatre had his back turned, she snuck it back into the plastic bag where it originally belonged. She was lucky; Quatre's eyes were so sharp that he'd probably have spotted it before any of them did if it hadn't been for Ben and Lily.

"Since this is the first time, I'll let you off easy. But if it happens again, I'll have to drop both of you from the class." Even though his tone was still mild, the look in his blue-green eyes was dead serious. "I'm sorry, but frankly, you should know better." He handed back the weight and moved onto Moira and Ron's station, giving their area a once-over before nodding approvingly.

"Before you all leave today, I've got a few announcements. These are important," he said, raising his voice over the students' loud groans, "so I think it's best if you listen for a bit."

He walked to the light blue flatscreen at the front of the room, taking a stylus out of his shirt pocket as he did so.

"I will be gone December 5th, which is our final lab for the term. This is because I'm defending my thesis. Jane will be overseeing in my place. I'll still have office hours if you have any questions. They are from five to seven," he wrote on the flatscreen with the stylus, "in seven-two-six Kettering. Also," as he wrote the room number on the screen, "I am considering having a review session for the final exam. Time and place are yet to be determined," here, he ran a hand through his short blond hair, "so please email me at Q winner at blair dot E-D-U when you are available during finals week and where you would like to have it."

He wrote the email address underneath the office hours and room number, trailing off the "U" with a flourish before putting the stylus back into his pocket and turning towards the class.

"Other than that, remember to have six trials recorded for the data portion of the lab, and be as concise as you can. I've got other things to do than to read the novels you call conclusions. That means you, Miss Delacroix," he nodded pointedly over to where Sabrina, the aforementioned student, was. "All right. The write-up is due in a week at the beginning of lab, no exceptions. You're free to go."

Moira felt Ron nudge her side. "So, when do you want to go over this?" he asked, gathering up his bag.

She held up a finger, using her cell phone to look at her planner. "Sabrina, Heather, and Ethan are having a study group...tomorrow. That's right after we get out of work with Dina, so I think we're getting pizza or something."

Ron nodded vigorously, stroking his blond goatee. "I can do that," he said, moving out of the classroom. "Audrey'll be out, so there's no dating for us then. There's always the weekend, though." He grinned toothily.

Moira groaned, shrugging on her bag. "I swear, if it weren't for classes, you two would glue each other's hips together. Next time you see Audrey, you mind telling her that I'd like to see her around?"

"You've got her cell number and screenname. Why don't you tell her yourself?"

"Because she's always away on Messenger and she's got her cell off or busy. And you know why." Moira stared pointedly at Ron. He shrugged his broad shoulders, palms turned up.

"We're in love. What can I say? Anyway, come on. You're one of her friends from high school. Winter break's about, oh, two or three weeks away, and I'm going back to L2, so of course she'll come see you and your other friends." He gripped her scalp as her head was a basketball. "Braaaaain suck."

"Don't do that." Moira wrenched her head out from under Ron's hand and hurriedly combed out a few tangles in her loose hair. "We gotta run if we want to make it to work. Dina'll kill us if we're late." She broke into a sprint; whoever thought it was a good idea to make the work labs on the other side of campus deserved to be hurled off a cliff.

Ignoring Ron's protests of how he couldn't keep up, she dashed through the double doors and was outside in less than a minute. One perk of being small and thin was definitely the speed, she thought.

******

"How did you get that scar?" Papa asked.

"Huh?" Moira looked up from the chicken she was stir-frying, still making sure to stir with her spoon. In a few minutes she could turn the stove off and let the cooling burner cook the whole mess before she served it. Today it was just some instant chicken mole stuff she'd found in the freezer; she was too tired to really cook anything else besides the rice.

In fact, if it hadn't been for this morning's coffee, she'd have probably gone home, fallen on top of her bed and not moved for at least three or four hours. School was getting exhausting. But every time either she or anyone else complained about how little rest they'd been getting, Dina would shrug and say, "Welcome to college."

Then again, she was the only college student still learning how to drive, so for her, there was an extra hour of driving classes every night.

So it was probably no wonder that she was blinking stupidly at Papa while he was stacking plates for the table. For one thing, he'd actually asked her a question. He never tried to really initiate anything with her, and on top of that, it wasn't even remotely hostile.

"I said, how did you get that scar? The one on your forehead," Papa repeated, closing the cupboard door. Of course Moira had been bowled over; he'd even asked the question like he was discussing the weather. She reached over and switched the stove off, gave the chicken mixture another few quick stirs, and checked her watch. Three minutes and it'd go onto the platter. She had time to talk.

"It happened when I was real little, like..." she thought for a minute, what grade had she been in? It was with Mrs. Grayson. Second grade, then. "I was seven. Someone in my class told me that if I spun around counterclockwise, like this, I'd be able to go back in time, you know?"

She demonstrated, holding both arms out and twirling slowly, like a ballerina. "Just like that, only faster and faster. So during lunch recess, `cause that's how long I thought it'd take to actually get back in time, I went inside one of the cubbies and started spinning like one of those crazy tops they used to have back then."

"Why did you do it?" The expression on Papa's face told Moira clearly that he thought it was a bad-no, /horrible/ idea. She paused, gathering her thoughts together; to this day, only Dad and Nana Relena knew why she did it. The others hadn't asked, chalking it up to crazy kid stuff.

"Well," she said slowly, "I thought that if I went fast enough, I could go far enough back in time to see you, you know? And I /wanted/ to see you; Dad and Nana told all these stories, and I got curious. There's really not much to go on with pictures after a while." She poked the chicken with her spoon; it felt done, so she took the platter waiting on the counter and poured the skillet's contents on it.

"Anyway," she continued, going to the dishwasher and opening the door, "I got really dizzy and I thought that meant that it was working. But what happened was that I fell and hit one of the window edges. Those things are made of metal, and I found out that day that they're /sharp/. You know, like a knife." She put in the dirty skillet and closed the door. Dishes could wait until after dinner, but the area needed to be clean.

"It was awful, I was screaming my head off, blood was everywhere on my face and my shirt...man." Moira laughed nervously, untying her apron strings. "You'd think," she slid the apron off, "that I got /killed/ or something. There were other kids screaming and freaking out when they found me, and the teacher hauled me down to the nurse's office...oh, it was a mess. But it wasn't anything serious. We went to the hospital and I got stitched up, and that was that, really. I just have this," she lifted up her bangs and tapped the scar, "to remind me."

She was rolling the apron up in her arms when she heard Papa say, "That was stupid." The utter contempt in his voice shocked her; it was like he'd dumped a bucket of cold water on her without warning. She looked up to see him glaring at her, not with the usual disdain, but utter hostility.

"I...guess," she replied quietly, shrugging.

"You should /know/ that it was stupid. I can't believe you're fifteen and still have that sort of attitude," Papa snapped. His knuckles were gripping the plates so hard that Moira thought they'd break.

"B-but...I..." She was at a loss at what to say, first because she hadn't thought Papa would have reacted like this, and second, the way his eyes were boring into hers was really unnerving. Somehow, he was taking this badly, and she couldn't figure out the how or why of it.

"No. There is no way that what you did would have worked, and you should have known that. You should have never attempted it." The word "never" was spat out the way Ron yelled "Fuck!" after he did bad on tests.

"I was only seven, all right? Cut me some slack here." Moira felt her hands ball up into fists underneath the tan fabric of the apron.

"So what? If you're so smart, you should have known better. And here you are, much later, and you still act like it wasn't a big deal. You really don't understand anything." With that, Papa snorted and moved past her to set the table.

Moira stood there for a few minutes, so angry that she was rooted to the floor. Right now her blood felt icy inside her veins and arteries, and she felt white-hot sparks behind her eyes.

Fine, she thought, taking the apron and putting it away in the drawer, if that's what Papa thought of her, then it was /on/ now. If she got her love for him thrown in her face, she'd just take it somewhere else.

In fact, as soon as this pain in her chest went away, she'd figure something out.

******

Duo nodded approvingly as Moira drove the car onto the highway. Today she'd been doing unusually well. Every turn around corners had been smooth, every lane change seamless, and there hadn't been any screeching of brakes every time there was a stop sign. No jerking of the wheel, sudden stops, or stomping erratically on the gas pedal like she normally did. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd think she'd been driving for years.

"Good, good. Now see how fast you're driving? You can go a little faster, but not that much," he said. It was a good night for driving; though it was dark, there weren't too many cars out at this time. Besides, in order to get her driver's permit, Moira needed to have at least ten hours of night driving under her belt. "You're doing real good today, Moira. Keep it up."

"Thanks," was the quiet reply. She was probably too busy concentrating on the road. Understandable, since she was still new at this. She'd just started taking driver's ed classes right after they'd gotten back from the science convention. She wouldn't be able to get her permit until February, and then she'd have to take another class to get the Level 2 permit. That one she'd keep until she turned eighteen.

"Okay, after we pass Exit 24, I want you to make a lane change," Duo said. Exit 24 was Arbana Road, in the next city over. Duo figured that getting Moira used to the highway first was a good idea; she'd been scared of it when they'd started out. "Remember," he said, holding out the fingers of one hand as he counted, "turn on the signal, check your blind spots, and then move in."

Moira nodded, glancing up at the rearview mirror, then turning on the left turn signal with a sharp flick of her wrist. She looked over her shoulder to make sure there wasn't any oncoming traffic, and then drove into the lane, canceling the signal with another fluid motion.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Duo said. He leaned back into his seat; maybe they could stop by the store on the way home, since they needed to do some shopping. Right now they were about three quarters of the way through with the usual home tutorial, and Moira was still rock steady. "We'll stay here for a while, and then we'll switch back and go home. I want you to get used to driving in the fast lane."

"Yeah."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "You all right, hon? You're pretty quiet today." Normally she'd chat nervously or hum something silly while she was driving. Duo had actually caught her singing "Down By The Bay" under her breath the last time they were on the highway; he hadn't heard that song since she was in third grade.

Moira didn't answer. All she did was watch the road as the car sped on. Duo was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this. From dinner up till now she'd been dead silent, barely speaking a word unless he'd spoken to her first.

"Let's change back into the right lane, sweetie," he said. "Just like how you went to the left one."

But when Moira raised a hand to turn on the signal, he noticed that it was shaking; not only that, but her entire /body/ was shaking all over and it wasn't even cold in the car.

"Autodrive, /now/!" he barked. Immediately, the car's system took over, moving smoothly into the right lane and heading for home.

He didn't know how he couldn't have figured it out earlier, but the shaking confirmed it; the reasons that Moira had been so quiet and driving so steadily were because she was in a pure, cold rage. The shaking was from the adrenaline that had been coursing through her system for God knew how long-since dinner, maybe?

"What's going on?" he asked, keeping his voice calm. Yelling at her wasn't going to do much at this point, and right now, all he knew was that at least she wasn't angry at him, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Moira didn't answer, but just sat there rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"Moira, I asked you a question. What's going on? If you're that angry about something, you shouldn't be out here on the road. So tell me what's making you so pissed off," Duo said, voice persistent.

Again, no response. The only sound was that of the car's motor humming.

"You know that driving while upset is dangerous. You /know/ that, and yet I can't believe you went ahead and did it anyway. You could have gotten us /killed/--"

"I know, okay?" Moira swiveled her head sharply towards Duo. He could see the sharp glint of her teeth in the dark. "I know. Enough. I don't want to talk about it right now." He heard her softly spitting out a strand of hair that had gotten caught in her mouth, and he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Honey. I'm not mad-well, okay, I'm a bit upset that you didn't let me know that you weren't really in a good condition to drive before we left-"

"I /wanted/ to leave," Moira shot back.

Duo ignored her. "But I'm worried, because while I've seen you get mad, seeing you angry is a rare thing, and I want to know what's going on, because I'm your dad, okay? So spill." He squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

"I don't want to talk about it. I...can't. Just try to understand, okay?"

"Are you sure, sweetie? There isn't a lot you can't tell your old man." The car pulled into Exit 12, Easterwood Avenue. They'd be home in about five minutes. "Okay," Duo said. "Maybe later. I just want you to know that you can tell me /anything/."

"Sure thing, Dad," Moira said, skepticism coloring her voice. "Sure thing."

******

Heero glanced at the clock for the third time since he'd sat down to read. It read a quarter to eleven, and Moira still wasn't home yet. It'd been like that for a week; Duo would say that she'd left another message on his cell telling them not to wait up for her to eat because she was studying.

And then when Moira finally came home, she'd go up to her room without saying a word to anyone. In fact, now that Heero thought about it, he hadn't seen her around much since that story about how she got her scar.

At first, when Duo had come home that same night and told Heero how he'd been in a car totally unaware that she'd been in what he'd considered a furious rage, Heero hadn't been too fazed. She still should have known better than to do something that foolish. For a few days, he didn't worry; she didn't seem all that upset.

But two nights ago, he'd made eye contact with her. It was only for a few seconds, but that was enough time to see her irises lighten to slate gray and her lips tighten into a thin line before she lifted her chin and turned away with a swish of her ponytail. The expression on her face was unnerving; it was as if acknowledging Heero's presence, even for a short amount of time, disgusted her.

That was when Heero realized that he may have gone too far with his reaction to Moira's story. He hadn't told Duo about it because at first, he hadn't thought it was a problem. Now that it was obvious that yes, it /was/ a problem, he didn't want to let Duo know that he was the source of Moira's anger. They were already divided enough as is.

He heard the back door open and shut; Moira had come back. Tonight, though, she didn't walk briskly upstairs to her room. There was a soft thump as her bag hit the floor, the closet door opening, and then the sounds of her coat being hung up before she went back inside.

What the hell could she be doing in there so late? Heero closed the science journal he'd been reading, rose from his chair, and walked out of the living room to see. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it further open to see Moira bent over the washing machine, tossing in clothes one after the other.

Terrific. He'd forgotten to do laundry today.

She'd sensed his presence; even though she was visibly trying to look single-mindedly focused on balancing the load in the machine, Heero could already see her body tensing up, much like that time at the science convention. Despite the inner voice telling him to stay back and leave her be, he moved forward quietly until he was standing only a few inches away from her.

"You don't need to do that," he said. Moira looked up at him, her eyes paling once again, this time to a dirty grayish white, and her mouth drawing itself in.

"It needs to get done," she said firmly, before closing the lid on the machine and setting it to "Quick Wash and Dry". Fifteen minutes to wash, five to dry. As the machine started whirring, she picked up her bag and pulled out one of her e-books, followed by her laptop.

"You've been coming home late recently. Why?" he asked, going further away and leaning against the wall. This way, he was able to fight the urge to leave the room. He needed to find some way to defuse her before things got worse.

"I need to study." The words were quiet, cut off and abrupt, much like his own speech pattern. Heero wasn't used to that at all; most of the time, she took after Duo in his more relaxed use of language. She was trying her best not to pay attention to him, favoring the laptop's screen or the e-book's pages instead.

"Is it because your grades are falling?" he persisted. That got to her; she visibly flinched before looking disdainfully over her shoulder to glare at him.

"No," she snapped, before turning back to the problem set Heero saw on the laptop's screen. She was only on the first one.

"Are you sure? How come your homework isn't done yet?" he asked, slightly incredulous. "You can't do that and expect to keep your grades up."

Moira froze, one of her hands poised in mid-air for typing in some answers. He heard her inhale sharply, and then the hand in mid-air snapped outward and slammed the laptop shut. It was followed by the e-book, its cover closing with a loud snap before both items were shoved into her bag.

"You really /do/ think I'm stupid," she muttered before shouldering her bag and storming out.

******

The clunk on the countertop broke Moira's concentration from the digital camera. She looked up and saw Nana Relena leaning over the counter with a mug of hot chocolate.

"Drink up while it's still hot," the old woman said. "It's freezing out there! How can you stand in my garden for so long?"

Moira didn't say anything, but simply turned the camera so that the display screen was towards Nana, who gasped and then took it for a closer look, putting on her glasses as she did so.

"That's lovely. I didn't know you could get pictures like that with only frost on the ground," she said, handing the camera back to Moira, who grinned.

"The branches on some of your trees and bushes gave me an idea, and if you can get the lighting just right, it looks real nice, don't you think?" Moira took a sip from the offered mug, sighing contentedly. Nana's hot chocolate was unbeatable; not too sweet, but smooth and thick, and the taste lingered long after the last swallow.

"Yes, it does," Nana said, smoothing out the wrinkles in her coral sweater. "Oh, look at the time. Shouldn't you think about going back home?" Moira's eyes darted towards the clock on Nana's stove; it was five to eleven.

Yeah, she'd stalled long enough with stopping over at Nana's house after driving classes today. It had been her last day of classes, so until finals started next week, she had nothing to do. There was studying, but the last day of class called for celebration before anything like that took place. For Sabrina, Heather, Ron, and Audrey, that meant partying. As for Ethan, he'd sequestered himself off and was literally nowhere to be found outside classes or Dina's.

Since being three years younger than everyone else put her at a disadvantage for parties, Moira was out. So she went to Nana Relena's to take pictures. It was lonely as hell, but she wasn't itching to go home right away.

"You'd better finish that; hot chocolate is awful when it gets cold," Nana gently prodded. Moira started, and then saw that the brown liquid in her mug was showing signs of gumminess. A few quick stirs and it was drinkable again.

"Good girl," Nana murmured. "Hurry home now, it's late."

Moira sighed, sliding off the stool in front of the counter and going over to the old woman, gently wrapping both arms around her fragile shoulders. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Nana. I really appreciate it. Good study break before finals, you know? Really helped me unwind and all, needed to relax, `cause boy, I was ready to snap and..."

"While I appreciate your gratitude, you need to return sometime." Nana's voice, while carrying her trademark warmth, brooked no argument, and it was emphasized by the usual all-knowing light in her teal blue eyes. Moira slumped in defeat; she wouldn't be able to crash at Nana's either until she figured something out.

"Yes, Nana," Moira groaned, and she left the kitchen, camera in hand, to get her coat.

******

It got even better. As soon as she'd parked her scooter in the garage, Moira was confronted by Dad, who was just outside the door, in a T-shirt and baggy, worn pajama bottoms.

"Moira Haley Maxwell," he began, flicking on the garage light, "you and I need to have a little talk."

Moira winced. It was bad when Dad used her full name.

"I don't know what's going on here, but it has been at least two weeks and you have been coming home late. Now, while I understand college has been a hard adjustment for you, I find it extremely odd that your study habits would have changed dramatically just before the end of the term." His voice had deepened an octave, like it always did when he was ticked off, and there was no humor in those eyes of his; in fact, they'd gone blue-black, another bad sign. His hair, now freed from its usual ponytail, spilled down his back in a red-brown mass.

At the very least, Dad was cranky. At the most, well, Moira didn't want to know.

"Dad, finals are-"

He cut her off with a slash of his hand. "That's bullshit and you know it. You're really pissed off, and from what I can tell, it's because of something at home. Now, I know it's not me, because if that was the case, we'd have it settled from the start."

Moira smirked, but there was no real joy in it. "Congratulations, you figured it out. Was there any help?"

Dad's eyes widened angrily. "Don't sass me, young lady. You have caused a lot of grief in this house with your evasion tactics. Now, you've got two choices. You can either tell me what's going on with Papa so we can work it out," he separated off an invisible section of air with his hands, "or", separating off another section, "you can suck it up while I impose an eight o'clock curfew for the rest of the school year. So what's it gonna be?"

There was a long, tense silence in the garage as Moira locked eyes with Dad, considering the ultimatum. Finally, she pulled off her hat and pushed back the bangs on her left side, exposing the scar.

"Remember how I got this?" she asked. When Dad nodded, eyes stern and piercing, she continued.

"I told Papa because he asked and he got on my case. Said I was was stupid for what I did, that my attitude sucked because I still thought it was cool. Because I wanted it as a reminder."

"He was shocked," Dad began, but Moira overrode him, her voice rising, but still cool and controlled.

"So were you. But you didn't throw it in my face the way Papa did. I told him why I did it, that it was to see him, and he didn't give a shit. He hasn't given a shit about me for the past six months he's been here." She stood to her full height, dropped her hand, and looked Dad square in the eye this time and not at the faded logo on his black T-shirt.

"I've been trying ever since he woke up. That's been hard because he spends more time with you, but believe me, I've been trying. If he doesn't want me in his life, there's no reason for me to make him a part of mine."

The two of them stood there; Dad stunned and Moira exhaling loudly. She'd been wanting to say that for a while. Just when Dad was about to reply, Moira shook her head.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but that's how it is." She stepped past Dad, opening the door with the touch-activated lock. "Next week is finals. I'll be home late until Thursday." With that, she shoved both hands into her coat pockets and strode into the house.

******

"Why didn't you tell me?" Duo asked the next day. He groaned, taking his head in his hands. "If I'd known what was going on..."

"That would have made it worse," Heero said. "I thought I could handle it eventually. If I'd told you, it'd probably wind up driving a wedge in between you and her, and that's not what I want."

They were sitting at the dining table, each man with a mug of coffee in front of him after the dishes had been cleared away from dinner. Again, Moira was out, claiming that she'd be in the library studying, mentioning since she was going to stop by the grocery before she came home, since they were out of milk.

Duo groaned again, shaking his head and making his ponytail sway gently from side to side. "I wouldn't take /sides/, Heero. The last thing I need here is you two being estranged from each other." He drained his mug, grimacing.

"She thinks you hate her, you know," Duo said with a matter-of-fact expression.

"I don't. But what she did was reckless. She could have /died/." Heero wanted to take Duo by the shoulders and shake him right now; why wasn't he also angry about this? Their daughter could have suffered irreversible brain trauma, maybe even bled to death (though, admittedly, that wasn't too likely), and here Duo was, sitting in front of him and acting blasé over the whole thing.

Duo nodded sagely. "Yeah, I know. Believe me, I told her what could have happened in loving detail after all was said and done. But," he said, holding up one finger, "I did tell her that it was very sweet nonetheless and gave her a hug for her trouble, partially because of that, and partially because I was glad her brains weren't all over the window."

He pushed the mug away from him, a far-off look in his eyes.

"Thing is, Heero, no matter what Moira did-and she's done a lot-I love her tons. And I make sure she knows that. She doesn't know that you were scared for her; all she sees is that you think she's some dumb kid who doesn't know what she's doing."

"What do I do?" Heero asked. Duo inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, and exhaled.

"Tell her you were scared," he replied. When Heero didn't nod in understanding, Duo shrugged. "I can't tell you how to do the rest; that you'll need to figure out on your own. But get it done before next Thursday, all right? That's when she finishes with exams." He got up from his chair and moved to peer out the window, where frost crystals were already gathering on its smooth pane. "Whew, it looks cold out. I hope Moira bundled up today, otherwise, she's going to need something to thaw her out when she comes back."

Heero made an affirmative noise, an idea already forming. Whether or not it'd work he didn't know, but it was better than nothing.