Disclaimer: I'm about to do a job that I hope I have a lot of fun at and excel at, and I think I'd still do it, even if I did own Gundam Wing—which I don't. Please don't sue, I own nothing, but the plot and any original characters I happen to throw in here.
A/N: Okay, this chapter would have been really, really, really, really, really long if I hadn't broken it up into two chapters. Can you believe this is only like, half of it? So, sorry if you expecting more "drama drama." They'll be more than enough of that soon.
Oh and I for to add that right now there is a poll in my profile, related to this story. Please vote yes or no!
' ' are Thoughts
Italics are Past events
"If It Makes You Happy"
"God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December."
"Did you know, Trowa was an orphan, and so was I?"
Catherine was watching Dorothy hustle around the kitchen as she lay half curled up on one of the living room sofas, her head snuggled into the crook of one arm. She was dressed for bed in loose, gray pajama pants and a pink, sweetheart top tank. On her feet was a pair of pink, bunny slippers, which she was currently wiggling.
Dorothy nodded, flicking her eyes at her and then her ridiculous slippers.
'Ugh…so Relena-esque,' she thought with an inward roll of her eyes.
She finished decorating the two mugs of decaffeinated hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon before she answered.
"All of the pilots are or were, and since you two are siblings—so yeah, I guess I indirectly knew," she shrugged.
"Where are you going with this Catherine?"
Her house guest quickly sat up, smacking one palm against her forehead.
Dorothy blinked, slightly alarmed as she carried over the mugs slowly.
"What's wrong? Did you forget something?"
"How tactless of me—of course—just like all the girls…Gah, I say the stupidest things sometimes!" she exclaimed, moodily bringing her knees up to her chest and propping her chin on them.
"Really, I can't believe I just asked that."
Dorothy didn't say anything as settled in next to her, placing each mug on a coaster.
"You were just making conversation," she shrugged and Catherine looked at her with a smile.
"You're too nice."
Dorothy rolled her eyes, picking up her mug for a sip.
"I'm sure you have a point—ouch! Hot, hot, hot," she fussed, setting her drink back down.
Catherine tittered. "Want to put an ice cube in it?"
Dorothy flung herself back against the couch with a huff, shooting her a look of disbelief.
"Silly girl, that will ruin it. I made these with milk."
The redhead giggled, lowering her legs to imitate Dorothy's flounce.
"I know, I was just…'making conversation,'" she grinned.
Dorothy closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head.
"I don't think you know the meaning of that phrase."
Cathy shrugged, reaching forward for her mug of cocoa. She brought the drink to her lips for a cautious sip before speaking again.
"I just liked the expression."
She winked at her before running her tongue over the whipped cream so she could give herself a whipped-cream mustache.
Dorothy rolled her eyes again.
"You can be such a child," she half-halfheartedly scolded. She tucked her blue pajama pants covered legs underneath herself, folding her hands into her lap. Dorothy was dressed for sleep as well in a billowy, white silk chemise and white terrycloth slippers.
"You know, I was going somewhere with what I said earlier," Cathy said thoughtfully, taking another sip.
"I hoped so."
"Mmm, this is really good Dorothy," she complimented, going off topic again.
The blond smiled at the compliment, picking up her mug again for another try at an indulgent sip.
"I know; you'd just die over my childhood cook's Spanish hot chocolate then."
"Oh would I?" Catherine smiled widely, turning her head to face Dorothy. Her face was now only inches from Dorothy's, and Dorothy could see how her eyes sparkled with interest.
"We'll have to chat over some of that sometime, too."
"I don't know if I could make it as well as she used to…so maybe," Dorothy said hesitatingly, scooting away just a little bit.
She stared into her cup. "It's hard to recreate a good memory; don't you think so?"
Cathy blinked and then slowly nodded in agreement, still watching her. "Yeah, maybe not as good as the first time, but…what makes you say that?"
"Oh, no reason," she said quickly.
"You were saying earlier…?"
"Oh! Yes, well, Trowa—or Triton really—he had it so much harder than I did—" Catherine began again, but this time Dorothy interrupted her.
"What? Triton?"
Catherine nodded. "That's his real name: Triton Bloom."
Dorothy frowned at her. "I see…"
"He and I, we were separated during a rebellion on L3," she went on. "He was two and I was four at the time. Our parents were killed during it," she said, her voice catching slightly, but she quickly perked up again.
"But, I always remembered my little brother's name and what he looked like. That's why I had a feeling about Trowa almost immediately after I saw him—the feeling that he was Triton, my baby brother."
"You could remember that much that far back?"
"No…well sort of," Catherine said with a small smile, now training her eyes down into her mug.
"I mean, that sort of thing would stick out in one's memory, you know?"
"Of course," Dorothy said softly, finding the contents of her cup very interesting again.
"The death of a loved one, how could one ever forget?"
Cathy looked at her curiously again. 'What aren't you telling me, Dorothy?'
She cleared her throat. "Well, where was I? Oh yes, Triton had it so much harder than I did. I got adopted into the circus and he, well he got drafted into the war," she frowned, becoming lost in her thoughts.
"War…it almost took everything from me Dorothy: my childhood, my family, my life."
"I hate it, Dorothy, I just hate," she said passionately, her normally placid violet eyes steeling, her hands clutching her mug more tightly.
Dorothy lowered her eyes. 'Hm, I guess we've not so totally different after all.'
"That's why I'm so happy you and Relena are doing this, that you two are so committed to peace. I'm so happy we have been invited to help you a little more in your endeavors," Catherine smiled, taking Dorothy's hand for a moment.
Dorothy looked at her hand, slightly overwhelmed. She wanted to tell her outright that she hadn't always been this girl, and Dorothy wondered again, if this innocent girl would still like her so much if she did know her past?
After a few moments she gently pulled her hand away from Catherine's and cleared her throat.
She sat back again more comfortably.
"Anyway," Cathy smiled, gathering her hands into her lap and giving Dorothy some space, "he became a child soldier, a mercenary, and it really crafted how he saw things for a while."
"He was expendable, life was expendable," she murmured, looking up at the ceiling.
"But, oh God Dorothy, I was so happy I found him…so happy. And in this blessed chance we've been given to be a family again, I'd like to think now, he knows, he'll always have someone there for him and his old beliefs about himself…I'd like to think I changed that—in my most conceited of moments of course," she laughed softly. She took a long drink, letting silence overtake them.
Dorothy narrowed her eyes with a small smile, meditating on her words.
She did think it explained a few things—like how he could always sneak up on her like a shadow, she thought dryly.
"I wish he could find a nice girl to settle down with," Cathy sighed, her expression dimming and then changing again in a split second as she looked at Dorothy, her face breaking out in grin.
"Kind of like how Quatre found that in you. I'd like someone like you for my brother."
Dorothy grimaced, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Gosh, you're strange."
"Your brother and I, we don't get along—at all. I'd doubt he'd be interested in my twin."
"Oh? He likes you just fine Dorothy," she smiled. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
"Ugh, you two…that's exactly what the Living Shadow said," Dorothy muttered.
"What? Living Shadow? You mean Trowa?" she blinked, truly lost.
Dorothy chuckled. "Yes…or Triton now that you tell me.'
Cathy rolled her eyes, grinning. "Whatever, stop trying to change the topic, you should just learn how to take a compliment."
"You, too; you were being too modest earlier, thinking for one moment you haven't helped him heal," Dorothy argued, giving her a serious look.
"So many of you girls have helped those pilots heal."
"Specifically, Quatre's talked to me about you, and I know all about what you've done for a few of them—even that stubborn mule Wufei," she smirked.
Cathy blinked, at a loss for words for a moment. She looked away shyly, a blush staining her cheeks. She quickly recovered, looking up with another mischievous grin.
"Okay, maybe I do it, too, but you do it all the time!" she accused, putting down her now empty cup.
"Like earlier, when I said you were nice, you just brushed it off. But I meant it—you're really nice!" she insisted, popping up onto her knees to shake Dorothy's shoulders for emphasis.
"You'll spill my hot chocolate," Dorothy grumbled, breaking away from the excited girl's hold. She quickly downed the rest of her drink and stood up to take Catherine's mug along with her own to the sink.
'I wonder if I accidentally gave her a bag out of my old caffeinated box…'
"There you go again!"
Dorothy froze over the sink for a second to give her an irritated look.
"Spare me. It's not 'there I go again;' I just don't know what you expect me to say," she complained, quickly washing the two cups and coming back to sit down beside her.
"Say, thaaank you!" Catherine sang out, leaping on top of her without warning, attacking Dorothy's sides in a tickle fest.
Dorothy yelped, squirming and trying to push her off. "Umph, Catherine! I'm not ticklish!"
"No really—I'm not!" she squeaked. Cathy noticed she wasn't giggling, just gasping for air, so she stopped.
She sat up with a slight pout, helping Dorothy up as well. "That's too bad. I'm really sorry."
Dorothy shot her one last look of mock anger before her face suddenly broke out in devilish grin.
"But are you?"
And without warning, she leaped onto Cathy, tickling her back without mercy.
'6 AM, urgh.'
It was two days later, Friday, and the day Dorothy had been dreading for weeks.
"Already so tired," she griped, leaning perhaps a little too heavily on her vanity for a closer look at her reflection.
Dorothy decided she would wait until later to put on her makeup; maybe until after she returned from her "meeting." At the moment, her eyes were still groggy and when she had lifted her right hand up to apply lipstick, it had begun to tremble.
'These last few nights are finally catching up with me,' she thought, settling back down onto her heels.
Dorothy had been up since 4 AM, unable to sleep for most of the night just like she'd been unable to do for the last few nights. After that late night cup of cocoa with Catherine, she'd been getting random attacks of indigestion, especially at night.
The bouts of dehydration, the nausea and vomiting, and headaches and other general aches had died down, but recently she'd been feeling a persistent burning sensation in the upper-level of her stomach and into her chest for well over an hour during each of those restless nights.
Her stomach grumbled loudly and Dorothy chuckled. "At least my appetite's come back; breakfast first," she decided, walking out of her bathroom.
She had at least two more hours to kill before it was time to head out. She was already showered and dressed, but not in her outfit for the day—she would get dressed later as well. For now, she was dressed in a pair of wide-leg, gray slacks and a fitted white tee. On her feet was a pair of black flats, her hair tumbling down her back per usual.
Dorothy hummed cheerfully as she fixed herself breakfast. She felt best when she was eating lately, though she did experience some of that indigestion, as well as a little nausea, but she was too fearful to take anything for it; after all, it was still fairly mild and she rationalized that she'd be seeing a doctor soon enough.
She was just going to revel in the fact that she was eating again.
As she waited for her waffles to toast, Dorothy frowned again, her mild contentment disappearing.
'The day is here…'
She pursed her lips, taking out a plate as she heard the gentle pop of the toaster.
"And I'm definitely going to need the energy to get through it."
Trowa stood a few feet behind his sister, dressed in a black body suit and soft, black ballet-like shoes, the soles reinforced with very thin, pliable rubber. They were etched out with the minutest of grooving for added grip and were similar to the shoes he'd be wearing during the actual show.
As he went through a light warm-up before a stretch, Trowa did his best to listen to Catherine chatter on about her first overnight visit at Dermail mansion.
The siblings had been unable to sit down alone together since their arrival and apparently it had been torture for Cathy to not have the chance share her thoughts with her brother immediately.
Tuesday night, Catherine had crashed at Dorothy's, and then stayed all day Wednesday. That day had been filled with less talking and more of the shopping spree Dorothy had insisted on taking her on.
Trowa had had a similar schedule with Quatre (minus the shopping), and the brother-sister duo had each ended their days having dinner with their respective Winners. After a lingering goodbye from Cathy to her hostess ("You know I'll be seeing you again soon, right Catherine?" Dorothy grumbled, rolling her eyes at the girl who was almost in tears. "Just remember to throw out those dreadful slippers, alright?"), and a bittersweet one from Trowa to his host, the two had met up again at Heero and Relena's—compliments of Quatre and Relena's chauffeurs.
They had both immediately settled in for the night and then before they knew it, it was Thursday morning, which they spent entirely with the engaged couple. They had finally headed back to their hotel in the early evening for dinner with the circus troupe. And once again, before they could blink, the sun had come shining through their windows, and it just happened to be at 7 AM on Friday, the day of the show.
"We didn't really talk about Quatre or anything, but we did talk a bit about you," she said out-of-the-blue.
He'd been only half-listening up until that point, but he now gave her his full attention.
"Oh? And what did you girls have to say about me?"
"I told her a bit about our past...your real name," she added a little more slowly, giving him a quick look.
"You don't mind, do you?"
Trowa gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Can't do anything about it now, can I?"
And with that, he refocused his attention on slowly lifting himself into a handstand, holding it for several seconds, and then slowly stretching his legs out into a perfect "T." He tried to ignore the footsteps that were quickly approaching.
"Oh Trowa, please don't be mad!" Catherine shouted, bending upside down to get a better look at him.
"I should have asked first, I know, I just, we got to talking, and she mentioned how you and I are like 'familiar strangers' to her once, and I just wanted, I just wanted to find some common ground with her—" she babbled, leaning only inches away from him now.
Trowa slowly brought his legs back together, aligning himself perfectly before letting himself gently drop down into a backbend.
"How is my name a connecting factor?" he asked, honestly perplexed.
"Oh I just—it was a total offhand comment. I was more so talking about us—us all pretty much—being orphans and stuff, but I mentioned your early life, like how it had been so much harder than mine," she said softly, giving him a bashful look.
Trowa pushed himself back up again into one last handstand before finally flipping up and crossing his arms.
He turned around. "Tell me the real reason," he stated evenly.
"Well, it's just that…" she began, standing up again and looking off to the side. She clutched one arm and dug her toes into the packed dirt of the arena nervously. "You and Quatre are just so close, and I've-I've always wanted that."
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love how close we are," she smiled sheepishly, looking up at him with raised hands," but it's just—"
"Not the same thing," he nodded, "as being accepted by someone who has no initial connection to you to go on, no obligation…who can unreservedly just care for you being you."
"That," she agreed softly, looking at him again, "and…I just don't have any real girlfriends, you know?"
"It would be nice if she and I could be good friends is all…"
"Again, I'm sorry," she repeated, clutching his arm and giving him a beseeching look.
"It's alright," he shrugged again, placing his free hand over hers.
"I'm not really mad, I was just confused. Who cares, it's not a big deal."
"I guess it's just that I never think to mention it—I've just had so many of these masks on for so long…" he trailed off, shrugging again while she frowned at his flippantness.
Finally, she let out a relieved sigh, letting go of his arm.
"Good, 'cause I really thought you were really mad at me there for a sec."
Trowa nodded, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Never worry Cathy," he said softly before straightening again and gracing her with a light smile.
She smiled back. "Love you little brother," she laughed, mussing his hair.
"Hey," he said, giving her a mock look of annoyance, leaning away out of her reach. He caught her arms and stilled them at her sides. She stuck her tongue out at him; he just rolled his eyes.
"Anyway, don't try to force things with her, okay? Let the chips falls where they may. She doesn't let many people in, but those she does, she means it and it means a lot."
"You've gone a long way with her in short time, so don't be worried, ok?" he insisted, his eyes serious.
She nodded back solemnly. "I won't—promise." Her bro as good at reading people, after all. How could she not believe him?
He smiled warmly at her again before letting her go finally. He walked back a few paces and started to do a round of gorilla stomps.
As he entered the end part of his warm up, Cathy aimed her knives at a long, rectangular practice board, talking to him over her shoulder once more.
"Relena and Heero, though, they really do have a gorgeous home. It was lovely just being able to spend the whole day with them yesterday, too," she said, spelling out the word "Welcome" with a round of quick knife throws. She decided that this little bit of "knife wordplay" would be a fun way to introduce their group to Earth's people. Now, she just wanted to see if she could bring her time down a little more.
"I mean, I guess I liked Dermail mansion and all, but it's just kind of a little less homey, if you know what I mean."
"It was just nice being able to get to know Dorothy better is all."
"She doesn't spend a lot of time there, right? I'm sure she hasn't had much to do with the decor," Trowa pointed out, stretching out his back one last time, pretty much done now.
"Oh yeah, you're right," Catherine replied, nodding thoughtfully as she walked away to retrieve her knives.
She walked back over to him with her bag of knives over one shoulder.
"Besides the interesting stuff she told me about Egypt—which by the way, I'm dying to set up a performance date for—she shared a bit about her aristocratic training and Catalonia—and did you know she was royalty?" she interrupted herself with a grin, shaking her head in disbelief.
"I mean the things you can learn about that girl…"
"What? Does Quatre even know that?" Trowa asked, standing at rest, his warm-up complete.
'Seems like she got a lot out of her. Guess we share something else in common too,' he thought in amusement.
"Who knows," Cathy giggled, walking passed him now, "I'm going to go confirm some stuff with Manager Hawthorne. I'll be back soon for the group warm up."
"I'll have more for you later!"
"Ok."
Trowa moved off in the opposite direction for the equipment check. He was hoping for a quick group warm-up and quick dress rehearsal, but a long breakfast and a long shower.
He just needed a few minutes to himself—which was going to be hard today of all days—but he just needed that time to think before he saw Quatre again.
'I need to see Relena…'
Quatre remembered the wood, musk and floral scent of her perfume, her hair down and slightly damp, the flush of her skin in anger.
"I won't do it till after the circus charity event," Dorothy replied evenly, softly closing the door behind her and walking to stand in front of Quatre with her arms crossed.
"You'll do no such thing," he spat, looking up at her with slightly reddened eyes, already moving to his feet.
"You don't really have a say in the matter. You forced this baby on me and now I'm going to force it out!" Dorothy yelled, quickly losing her cool as she stabbed one manicured finger into Quatre's chest accusingly.
Quatre shuddered, remembering what he had said after that. His chin was propped up in his hand as he stared out at nothing, meditating on actions he could not take back now. His oatmeal was growing cold, along with his tea, but he hadn't been very hungry in the first place.
"Master Quatre," Rashid said, walking into the kitchenette.
'I just had to be the angry husband again…angry and—'
"Master Quatre?"
"Oh! Sorry—yes Rashid?" Quatre finally acknowledged, nearly dropping his hand from his chin and into his oatmeal.
"It's going to 8 in the morning and you had mentioned something about an appointment this morning yesterday?"
"Oh, yes! Thanks Rasid. Yes, I must go, though it isn't exactly a definite meeting," he said distractedly, standing up with his briefcase.
"Thanks for the interruption."
'Like I could have forgotten.'
"Anytime Master Quatre."
"So…what's new? Do you still need me to snoop around?" Trowa smiled softly.
"Wha-what?"
Quatre ran a hand through his hair, the question not really registering. He was having a faint sense of déjà vu, except he was in his living room instead of Trowa's and he was the one rattled.
His friend leaned back against the couch, shifting around until he was comfortable. He was going to let him take his time; Quatre had been pacing around, working himself up to telling him something. He knew how Quatre could make mountains out of molehills after all, blaming himself unnecessarily, so he decided, he'd let him take his time.
The former Sandrock pilot was now awkwardly frozen, his upper body half turned to Trowa, his lower body still facing forward, feet mid-step. His face had a look of complete bewilderment and his gaping mouth only made him look all the more dazed, one hand awkwardly jabbed into his already messy hair.
His eyes had faint dark circles underneath them and he seemed to be a little thinner, but Trowa couldn't be sure.
"You and Dorothy…the baby. Remember? The reasons behind it all?"
"Oh, that," Quatre chuckled uncomfortably, turning away again to continue his paces.
"I'd rather hear about you and Catherine first," he smiled, glancing at him. He plopped down in the couch across from him.
Trowa shrugged, deciding he'd play along a little longer.
"We're great. Catherine's excited to be on such a universal stage. She thinks it's a once in a lifetime opportunity for us and the circus. She's glad so many orphans will be there. She's been interested in working with them a lot lately and happy that many of the young acrobats she'd been training are being flown over to come see the performance, pro bono, along with a lot of other L3 orphanages."
"I'm more interested in rehabilitating animals…I don't think I'd be as good as her with the kids. I'm really glad for her."
Quatre nodded. "That's good," he said a bit distractedly, continuing to slowly nod his head, "very good."
"Quatre, let's get to the point. You look like hell. What's wrong?" Trowa finally demanded, crossing his arms and giving his friend a piercing look. It was time to cut the bullshit.
He jumped, surprised at his best friend's tone. He looked at him, and then cut his eyes away, running a hand through his hair once more. He kept his eyes to the side.
"Well, I'd start, but I'm not sure how," he said softly, and for a moment, he looked completely lost, and Trowa was reminded of the time he came to ask him for forgiveness and he had had amnesia.
Quatre was regretting something—big time.
"So, what did you do?"
Quatre darted his eyes at him again. "She's pregnant."
Trowa sat forward, shock flashing through his eyes.
"You don't look like you're expecting me to say 'congratulations,'" he said after a short pause.
"No, I'm not," Quatre laughed harshly, slipping both of his hands behind his head and lifting his eyes to the heavens. "Not in the least."
"She wouldn't appreciate me telling you this," he said suddenly, a frown marring his features. He gave Trowa a serious look.
"You can't indicate you know about it, or let her know I told you."
"Of course," Trowa said immediately, waving away his fears. He crossed his legs and settled back against the couch again. "I don't even need to know how it happened, just that it happened."
"I'm just now wondering…where are you two going to go from here?"
"She's been at Dermail mansion, correct?"
"Yes," Quatre sighed, "but there was some global hopping, and so we've only been living apart, most recently, for three days—she at her grandfather's place and me, here."
"It was never a conscious decision, really. It just sort of was…where she returned to," he shrugged, slumping a bit.
"You're not happy over it…so I'm assuming it isn't something she wanted or expected?" Trowa asked.
Quatre just shook his head, knowing that he was referring to the baby now.
"And you did it on purpose?"
"I don't know, maybe," Quatre mumbled, covering his face in his hands as he dropped his elbows to his thighs. "I just took off the condom one time, we never use one, but she wasn't on anything apparently, but she had asked me just that once, but it wasn't straightforward, and we didn't know she was pregnant until New Zealand," he said in a jumble.
Trowa wasn't sure how he should feel: on the one hand, Quatre was his best friend, and he wasn't sure what his good friend was expecting from him during this conversation; on the other hand, he knew he also had a sister—and Quatre had many sisters. He didn't know what he'd do if some guy had knowingly gotten his sister pregnant, leaving her scared and angry.
Then again, he did already know the emptiness Quatre felt without a family of his own after his own childhood, and honestly, he and Dorothy were married adults, not two naive teenagers.
But…
What in God's name had he been thinking?
He repeated as much to Quatre, watching him bristle defensively.
"I don't know," he said, throwing up his hands. "I wasn't! But, now she's been talking about getting an abortion right after the charity event!"
Trowa was quiet again for a moment.
"I don't know what to say Quatre. I mean, on one hand, it's her choice and—"
"Wha-what?" Quatre nearly spat, sitting up abruptly. He gave Trowa a look that basically read: 'How could you say that? What about me?'
Trowa sighed. "I mean, what did you expect she'd do?"
"I don't know," he huffed, falling back against the couch looking defeated again. He looked down at his hands that were now clenched into his fists.
"I feel like I don't know anything anymore Trowa…like I don't understand anything! Her, myself, my actions, her actions, where it all went wrong," he finished softly, unbidden tears of frustration springing to his eyes.
"I have nightmares about her divorcing me Trowa, about her being with someone else and having their kids someday…and it kills me Trowa, it kills me," he said hoarsely, covering his face with his hands again and throwing his head back against the couch.
"What did Heero say?" Trowa asked softly, feeling a mixture of emotions.
"I think he said something like, the feelings I felt at the time and my actions are open to interpreting, not to be condemned or condoned, but…that was before we knew she was pregnant and I had just been afraid of the possibility."
"I mean, he's been wonderful in trying to help us talk and reconcile; Relena, too. I don't know what I could have done without them," he said with true appreciation, his voice partly muffled behind his hands.
"I think he really thinks or at least he thought we could move passed it, that she was just afraid of the unknown."
"But it's not like we can't provide for this baby Trowa!" Quatre exclaimed, looking at him with insistent eyes once again.
"And we would love it so much!—boy or girl. Dorothy would be a wonderful mother!"
Trowa cleared his throat, looking off to the side again. "Maybe she doesn't think so."
"What?" Quatre asked for the umpteenth time that day, wishing he'd elaborate.
"Maybe that's the whole root of the problem right there…she just doesn't think so."
"If so," Trowa continued, not letting him interrupt as he stood up, giving the silent indication it was time for bed, "she must truly be scared indeed."
And with that, he moved out of the living room, leaving a slightly baffled Quatre behind.
"And she's probably pissed as all hell," Trowa calmly threw over his shoulder, closing the door to his room.
Dorothy pulled up in front of Quatre's office, but she didn't kill the engine. She just put her Jaguar into park and took out her cell phone.
Quatre looked out of his office window, spotting Dorothy pull up. She made no movement to go into the parking lot.
He glanced at his watch, wondering why she was finding time to linger: 8:30 a.m.
'Hm, I guess we've got time.'
Quatre jerked slightly as he felt his cell phone vibrate. He quickly freed it from his breast pocket and answered it, recognizing his wife's number.
"Hell—"
"Quatre. I'm outside. Come down. I'll follow you in my car," Dorothy's smooth voice calmly interrupted.
The connection cut immediately.
Quatre put his cell phone away, deciding he wouldn't dwell on it.
There would be no forced friendliness today—it was all too evident already.
'This will probably be just as tough, if not harder than a board meeting. I should have expected as much,' he sighed, grabbing his car keys and his briefcase before heading out.
Okay, it's impossible to not have the charity event next chapter. I didn't know my writing would take me this way, so I just knew this chapter was needed based on how chapter 18 ended, or there would have been some scratching of heads. Now review~
Angel of Mirth