Punishing

Punishing IV

Two years slipped by, and Trowa heard no word from Quatre.

++

Winner Enterprises had launched a project shortly after the termination of Quatre’s marriage. The mission was to build crafts capable of harboring cities in space. A great deal of the money that had not gone to Titiana had been pumped into the new Winner legacy.

Quatre appeared sporadically at press conferences but rarely showed his face at any other time.

++

Wufei went on to greater things.

His one-time employer Quatre R. Winner never offered him a permanent position as the legal mind behind Winner Enterprises. He knew that Wufei would have never accepted it.

Five months after the completion of Mr. Winner’s divorce, Wufei acquired a dog.

It was some mutt of indeterminate origins that had at one point in its life been called ‘Sparky.’ He renamed it ‘Hubris.’

A month and a half after assimilating Hubris into his lifestyle, Wufei caved and took in another mutt. This one, he called ‘Nemesis.’

A year and four and a half months later, Wufei traveled to Taiwan for a brief vacation where he met a lovely young woman Emmie Hong. He had to return without her, but they agreed that their separation would have to be made short.

Hubris and Nemesis missed Wufei very much while he was gone.

++

Titiana went on to contract HPV after having sex with a carrier.

Her sex life has suffered severely.

++

Taylor approached Quatre shortly after Judge Dreiser’s ruling.

He was promptly dispatched and since never encountered a second chance to be dispatched again.

A year and seven months after that he found a steady boyfriend with whom he lightly discusses the possibility of marriage.

They are quite happy.

++

Trowa, despite the setback of his first major case, went on to become a respectable attorney. He took high-yield cases when he could, but tried otherwise to help the less fortunate.

He shunned singles bars and made the decision to become celibate for the time that he was separated from Quatre. He didn’t know how or when they would meet again, but a persistent faith in fate told him that it was inevitable.

“We were meant to be together. B.F.F. and all that,” he explained to himself once when he was slightly drunk.

++

Fate arrived in the mailbox sometime in August.

He was invited to a seminar in which a famous and well-respected attorney Wufei Chang was to speak.

Wufei knew Quatre. Trowa returned a positive response to the sender and showed up to the event a week and three days later.

Ofcourse, Mr. Chang looked better than ever. His skin held the healthy glow of focused affection, and his eyes had taken on a new focus. He was less the punisher and more the father. It was a beautiful thing to see. Even though this self seemed outwardly a departure from his earlier judicial passions, he was merely maturing and feeling out new arising motives that, now and again, took the place of old ones that used to fuel his drive to mete out justice wherever he saw fit.

As enchanting as Trowa found the scene to be, and as much as he would have liked to have paid more attention to what this man was saying, his energies were directed more towards finding himself a good place to intercept the speaker on his way out.

++

Wufei looked at Trowa, in what he could only assume to be a pitying manner, as he informed him in a service hallway, “It’s been over two years…and, as you know, Mr. Winner is a very busy man.”

“I know that,” Trowa replied dismissively, though it dampened his hopes of couple’s bliss. “Just, where is he? I really would appreciate the chance to speak with him, right now. And, I know that you’re not obligated to help me at all, and you’re over a hundred times my better. I just, I feel…” He blanked. He was sure that there was a word or a phrase that existed that could describe his need to this near-stranger, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Perhaps, he was just wishing that he could package himself so easily.

Wufei gave Trowa an appraising look and folded his arms across his chest. “The papers don’t know.”

Trowa straightened up at the lure of information.

“Quatre, right now, is somewhere up nearing the dark side of the moon. He has taken the Apollo 8 route. You know that one, right?” Wufei asked.

A quick survey of his brain returned the word: “Genesis,” and he spoke it aloud.

“That is correct. After reemerging from the dark side of the moon, each crew member read from the book of Genesis 1:1-10,” Wufei replied, rolling the facts over his tongue with some satisfaction.

Trowa, despite years of trying to purge the nightmarish reeducation that he had suffered at the hands of his parents, couldn’t help recalling the precise passage:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day…

It appeared, at least in symbolism, to Trowa that Quatre was seeking rebirth.

He was straining with this departure into the fastness of space to attain some form of clarity.

Trowa envied the spiritual significance of the motion, but despised it as well.

He didn’t like the notion of newness, a clean slate. Where would he belong in the eyes of a new Quatre?

“He can’t escape me forever,” he muttered bitterly to himself. “The coward…”

“In all probability, this won’t help you at all…but seeing as you are so pitiful…Call this number in four days between eight forty-five and nine pm. Any time before or any time after will be unacceptable,” Wufei instructed Trowa and handed him a card. “If you are as smart as you market yourself to be, you will call at eight forty-six.”

Trowa thanked him for the card and the opportunity, but Wufei waved him away with a frigid, “Now, get out of my sight.”

++

“The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep…” Quatre read aloud from a borrowed copy of Genesis. The words held no particular significance for him, but he felt that they were powerful.

He took a glance out of the porthole of his vessel and felt a hot stab of affectionate devotion for the cool aestheticism of space. It was among his greatest loves and one that he could never embrace.

He desired to populate it, and to imbue the same sense of awe in the glory of the vastness of the firmament into others that chose to live on the worlds that he created for that very purpose.

Quatre wanted to create a continent of starmen.

++

Four days after his encounter with Mr. Chang, Trowa counted down the minutes to when he could call the number that he had been given. It was tacked to the phone base with duct tape and glanced at anxiously at every opportunity.

Trowa struggled for a while with his wardrobe. He wasn’t sure whether it would be appropriate to be humble and informal or apologetic and formal. It wasn’t a certainty that his taste in clothes would be a factor that day, but he always felt that it was better to be prepared rather than to be embarrassed.

Eventually, he settled on a semi-formal gray suit ensemble.

At eight forty-five, Trowa had the number logged into his phone.

In the moment that eight forty-six blinked onto the digital dial, Trowa pressed “send.”

The first try, he was irritated, but more so distressed to receive a busy signal.

The second frantic try, Mr. Chang picked up on the second ring.

“Hold for a moment. I’m busy,” he said curtly, and then a click, and his end went silent.

Trowa held for a few moments without any visible signs of anxiety. After a minute, his eyes searched out the only clock in the room and he bided the remaining time staring at it.

Three minutes later, Trowa nearly leapt at the rejoining click.

“Do you really want this?” Mr. Chang asked, his tone devoid of warning or enjoyment.

“Please…” Trowa began, and once again found himself at a loss for how to properly express himself.

To say that he had been waiting for two years would imply undue entitlement.

To say that his life depended on it was laying it on far too thick.

To say that Quatre would want it as well wasn’t true for the simple fact that Trowa had no possible way of verifying that assertion.

And, to confess that Quatre was the love of his life to a man that may as well have been a complete stranger didn’t strike Trowa as too terribly appetizing.

He settled on a rephrase, “I really want this.”

“Hold again,” Mr. Chang instructed him.

Trowa held.

More minutes rolled by.

Then a click.

“Go outside.”

Mr. Chang hung up.

Trowa set the receiver down.

Cautiously, he approached the door to his own house. He couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t necessarily mean that nothing was happening.

He slid back the deadbolt and turned the handle.

His heart stuttered. His weight left his feet and he struggled to support himself white-knuckled upon the frame of the door.

Quatre cupped a hand over his mouth to stifle his surprise, but not before a choice expletive shot out.

“This is awkward…” Trowa acknowledged, “though, I’m still happy to see you… How have you been?”

For a moment, Quatre appeared indecisive, but eventually settled on a personality. The mask slid into place and he looked as confident and as aloof as ever. “Everything has been quite well. And you?”

Trowa decided that honesty would do him better than saving face, “I don’t have any complaints about my career. I have been a touch miffed with you, though.”

“Miffed with me?” Quatre scoffed. “That’s beyond stupid.”

Irritation replaced a little bit of the tenderness that Trowa felt, “It was you that left without a word! You led me on. You made a fool of me. You pretended to care about me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Quatre huffed. “It’s your own fault for not saving yourself.”

“Don’t blame me for your own selfishness!” Trowa retorted.

Quatre took a step back, and for a second he looked haunted. “I didn’t choose to become myself,” he mumbled.

Trowa didn’t know whether to embrace him or to throttle him. He’d been duped before. He took one more antagonistic turn just to make sure, “Don’t give me that, Quatre. Everything that you’ve ever done has been a choice. You just happened to opt for all of the self-serving ones.”

He waited for a sharp rejoinder.

It didn’t come.

Warily, he took a mental step down from his soap box, “Look,” he hesitated, “Kat, I didn’t live the last two years of my life just so that I could yell at you. I didn’t even intend to get mad at you.”

“What am I here for, then?” Quatre growled. “You and Chang are obviously in cahoots, and Chang doesn’t do anything that doesn’t serve some purpose.”

Trowa took a steadying breath before taking a dive over the emotional brink, “You’re here…because I want you to love me…as much as I love you.”

Quatre buried his head in his hands, “That’s stupid.”

Trowa laughed, as much out of nervousness as out of giddiness, “And a guy like you doesn’t do stupid things.”

“What…like loving you as much as you love me?” Quatre spoke into his hands. He forced his hands down, and couldn’t help the scowl that followed. He turned his face to the side, “It’s too late for that.”

A warm rush of relief nearly toppled Trowa. “So, you actually do love me?”

“Yeah, like I’m going to repeat myself,” Quatre muttered irritably.

Trowa smiled, the most sincere curve he’d ever turned since childhood, and caught the adult Katydid up in his arms.

Quatre went rigid for a moment and then, almost grudgingly, relaxed and patted Trowa’s back.

“You probably won’t see me much,” Quatre spoke into Trowa’s ear.

“You’ll want to see me,” Trowa assured him.

“I’ve done fine by myself,” Quatre countered.

Trowa lifted the shorter executive off of the ground, “If that’s so true, why did Mr. Chang help me?”

Quatre kicked at the air as he felt his center of gravity shift. Breathlessly, he was able to manage another jab, “B-because he hates to see dumb animals s-suffer.”

It had probably been intended to annoy Trowa, but it only made him laugh.

Quatre was set down and led inside the house where Trowa locked the door behind him.

“You must have loved me since then, right?” Trowa asked, backing Quatre up against the door.

Quatre frowned, “What of it?”

Trowa looked straight into his eyes, “Why did you leave?”

Quatre R. Winner couldn’t help the frustrated pout that took the place of his pseudo-composure. “The Colonies had been on Winner Enterprises’ project slate for years. I couldn’t bother you for that. I’d be in and out of this city and that city…spending nights at the office…I’d figured that maybe after a month, maybe two, that you would look for someone new. Someone less insufferable. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about even liking you anymore. I’m not even supposed to be seeing you right now!”

“Love isn’t a science,” Trowa declared, “so, stop trying to control it.”

Quatre opened his mouth to protest, but when something foreign and warm brushed up against his shin he practically jumped into Trowa’s arms.

“Something just touched my leg!”

Trowa looked down and had a little laugh at Quatre’s expense, “It’s just my cat.”

“I didn’t know that you had a cat…”

“I told you two years ago.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…so, you did.”



...TBC...or End....;>>

note(s):

1. yesss....I had intended for this to be the final chapter...HOWEVER! I might write a brief epilogue...
I dunno...writing this chapter...I had a hard time figuring out where a safe place to end it would be. When I start writing dialogue, it\'s hard for me to extricate myself from it;>>
So...this chapter may have ended on a weird note. I don\'t know. It makes sense to me, but...then again...I\'m the one with all the answers@_@;
2. Sorry if this chapter seems choppy. It makes sense in my head...but, as I\'ve said before...it may only make sense to me because I\'m the friggin\' author;>>
3. please R&R...and...tell me if you guys want/need an epilogue to tie everything up.
THANKS

p.s. thanks AlexOKerry and KrysRobin for your super cool e-mails :)