On the Corner of West Elm and Bailey

He\'d entertained flitting throughts about confronting Wufei in the morning, but he was certain that he didn\'t have the capacity of wit to face off against him that early.

The fact that Cathy drove him to school in the mornings meant that he couldn\'t drop by the house on West Elm.

When they passed by it, his eyes scanned the empty windows but picked up no signs of life, or non-life.

Disappointed, he resolved to pay the ghost a visit later and sunk, deflated, into his seat.

At school he pictured the ghost in his mind.

All manner of scenarios ran through his head, the boy next door, the waiter at a cafe, the new transfer student to school, and the list went on. Every time, the ghost was much as Trowa had known him, very unlike most people his age, unjaded and beautiful with a smile that touched the sky and bent the heavens to its will.

The ghost in the house was so different from the hand that wrote in the journal. The pragmatism was there, but the calculating mind and worldliness was all but gone, leaving him like a child ensconed in the image of a young man.

++

At lunch, Trowa was tempted to camp out at his locker and forego comingling with his recent friends. It wasn\'t just the incident from the day before that had exhausted his interest in their prescence, it was the day in, day out, rudimentary contact that made him cringe as well. Friendship, for him, was more tiring than it was rewarding.

While he stood contemplating at the far wall of the cafeteria, the girl from the other day \"bumped\" into him.

\"Hi, Trowa, right?\" she smiled, her biggest and her cutest.

Trowa evaluated his chances of passing himself off as a deaf mute before responding with a curt, \"Hi.\"

\"Hey, would you like to sit with us?\" she pointed to a table filled mostly with girls that were eyeing Trowa like he was the only fertile male in a post-apocalyptic world.

\"Actually,\" Trowa cast a furtive glance at the table where his friends were settling, \"I\'m already sitting with someone else.\" Belatedly, he tacked on, \"Thank you for the offer, anyway,\" as he rushed off.

When he reached the table, he looked back at the girl he\'d just abandoned, she looked upset, but he friends were already migrating towards her to comfort her.

\"Already have someone trying to sink her meathooks into you?\" Duo joked.

\"Doesn\'t surprise me,\" Wufei said handing Heero the things from his lunch that he didn\'t want.

\"At least she\'s cute,\" Duo added craning his neck around a throng of loiterers to get a better look.

\"Whether she\'s cute or not is neither here nor there,\" Trowa replied irritably. Then he took a breath and asked in the most vague and unaccusing way he could manage, \"So...where did you all go yesterday?\"

Duo shifted in his seat, \"Guess you didn\'t appreciate the joke.\"

\"Not really,\" Trowa replied.

\"We went back to that house,\" Wufei informed him bluntly.

\"While you sent me home,\" Trowa elaborated. \"Why?\"

\"You didn\'t look up to it,\" Heero commented dryly.

Trowa\'s face went from angry to placid in no time flat, it wasn\'t that he wasn\'t upset, quite the opposite; he was just good at hiding it when he saw fit. \"What did you find?\" he said without inflection.

\"Nothing much,\" Duo replied nondescript.

\"Stop being such a shit,\" Heero said accepting another Wufei foodstuff reject, \"I know it\'s in your bag.\"

Trowa didn\'t even speak as he held out an open palm expectantly in front of Duo.

\"I was going to try to learn more about it...\" Duo explained setting his backpack in his lap and rummaging around in it.
\"Trowa would probably be better at that,\" Wufei replied eating his customized meal.

\"Here\'s your shiz,\" Duo sulked half-heartedly setting a few things out on the table.

His collection consisted of a leatherbound journal, old coins, a rolled up canvas, and a yellowed letter, the wax seal on it immaculate and unbroken.

He was almost certain of what the canvas held for him, and his hand hovered unbidden over it. His fingers tugged at the ribbons holding it. Then, when he unrolled it, his world narrowed down to that face. The noise of the cafeteria blended into faint white noise, the table disappeared, and everything but that face became immaterial.

Preserved in paint and feathery brush strokes was the ghost, proof that he wasn\'t as insane as he\'d first thought.

His painter must have been like a supplicant greeting the dawn. The style suggested worship in the airy angellic portrayal of the young man. He was dressed in a billowy poet\'s shirt and his grecian expression highlighted his Athena eyes. His halo of white-blond hair fell in his face in such a way as to make the stylists of some major teen magazines drool. This was something akin to the type of picture Trowa would hide under his bed like a dirty magazine, taking it out from time to time to stare at.

\"Earth to Trowa,\" Duo said snapping his fingers in front of his eyes.

It took a moment for Trowa to recover enough to formulate a response, \"What?\"

\"It looked like we\'d lost you there for a moment,\" Duo grinned. \"It\'s amazing that they had guys that good looking back in the something century, isn\'t it?\"

Trowa turned the cloth over looking for a name, a label, anything to put a name to the face that haunted him.

\"What\'cha lookin\' for?\" Duo asked following Trowa\'s actions with his eyes.

\"Is there a name?\" Trowa demanded.

\"Raberba,\" Wufei spoke up, then looked to Heero for confirmation. \"It was Raberba, wasn\'t it?\"

\"Quatre Raberba,\" Heero replied noncommitally. He grabbed the journal and scanned the inside cover. \"There,\" he said indicating to Wufei with his index finger.

\"Quatre Raberba Winner,\" Wufei read aloud. \"Whoever would name their kid \'four,\' is beyond me, though.\"

\"It\'s probably a romanization of a foreign name,\" Heero explained.

\"That\'s true,\" Wufei agreed, \"And looking at these other names...it looks to be derived from Arabic.\"

Heero leaned in to study the names with him.

\"Winner doesn\'t sound Arabic to me,\" Duo mumbled around a breadstick.

\"Probably...\" Wufei began.

\"Another romanization gone awry,\" Heero concluded.

\"Or, he d had have changed his name,\" Wufei suggested.

\"That\'s true,\" Heero agreed. \"A solid name like that could have probably given him the upper-hand in some business deals, especially through letter correspondance.\"

\"Winner is a pretty solid name,\" Duo commented somewhat disinterested at this point. He eyed Trowa\'s untouched lunch, then Trowa\'s unhungry face. He patted Trowa\'s arm, then, when he\'d gotten his attention, pointed at his lunch, \"You gonna eat that?\"

++

Trowa took the items that Duo had presented to him. The story his three friends had told him was a little weird.

They\'d all gone into the house after they got Trowa out of the way. The door wouldn\'t give at first, but, when Duo touched it, it opened with some ease.

Some other strange things happened as well with stuck drawers, slamming doors, and the like; things that Heero and Wufei attributed to the antiquated condition of the house as well as the wintry drafts that always found ways of sneaking into old houses.

Most of the items that Trowa now had in his posession were found by Duo.

He felt a little guilty about ditching them to go to the house. He skipped sixth period to ride an earlier scheduled bus taking the journal out of his bag to read on the twenty-minute ride in the general direction of home.

++

October 8, 1774
The weather, as of late, dampens the spirit. I fear that Samira will...

*Trowa skimmed through the bullshit, his eyes trained on finding only one word.

Quatre has fallen ill since last week. That boy, though, is incorrigable! I left his room but for a heart\'s beat, and upon my return, I found him collapsed at his window. Sometimes, it leads me to wonder whether he really is my brother and not some little goblin sent to shake the very confidences in life out of me. Nevermind that he is sweet, as sweet as blackberries cooled by light rains, but he is also wicked, as cunning as a fox out on the hunt for wild game. His cleverness, unfortunately, gives way to greater stupidity, if I may say so, and I say so truthfully. The more wit that boy collects, the less prudent about his own health, he becomes.

The audacious little imp told me the other day, and I quote, \"Dearest sister Iria, I am merely feeling the humours of my ailing country, and all will be set right when she takes it upon herself to partake of the good medicine of self-leadership.\"

Then, the cheeky little thing laughed at me!

As the sky is blue, I swear by it that my dear brother\'s boldness is the product of Rashid\'s incessant babying of him. Though, I suppose, I might sympathize a little. Quatre has suffered so many ailments since he was buchilchild. By his fifteenth year, over half of his life will have been spent in forfeit to the bad lot lady nature has graced him.

Good heavens, anymore of this miserable writing about dearest Quatre will surely curse him to a few more days confined in his bed. Speaking of which, I need to go see how the little goblin is faring.

If he\'s out of bed again, I\'ll sweep him back in with a broom.

~Iria Taha Winner

++

A faint smile traced the contours of Trowa\'s lips. Iria\'s writing was a little more colorful than her brother\'s. Her filial annoyance seemed to mirror Catherine\'s, in a way, a quality that Trowa found endearing.

When he got off at his stop in front of the house on West Elm, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. He wondered whether he should push the ghostly entity to remember his past life. To remember his sisters, his illnesses, his...death.

Trowa was genuinely curious about his death, but recalling Duo\'s little tale the first time he\'d seen the house made him second guess his inquiring mind. If he were to be killed by his (non-existent) father, he couldn\'t say that he\'d ever want to remember it.

Finally, Trowa decided to only tell the ghost his name. What he remembered beyond that was beyond Trowa\'s control.

++

At the window, Trowa paused.

The ghost was inside stomach down on the floor, his head propped up on the heel of his right palm while he used his other hand to turn the pages of one of the bookowa owa had given to him a few days prior. His face was serene, meditating as his eyes lifted the words from the pages and impressed them upon his mind.

Trowa had the faint impression that he was looking in on something forbidden. It wasn\'t like watching him strip down and take a shower or anything, but, similar to that, it was looking in on him, unguarded. Looking at him frankly.

With a little reluctance, he pushed the window up, shoved his backpack inside, and then followed it.

\"Hi,\" he grunted sliding down to the floor.

The ghost smiled at him brightly, moving to help him arrange himself but then, remembering the lack of substance in his touch, decided to sit back. His wide blue eyes followed Trowa\'s movements with such concentration, that it was almost uncomfortable.

\"Hello, Mr. Trowa,\" the ghost piped up.

\"Just \'Trowa\' is fine,\" Trowa smiled passing his hand through the empty space where the ghost\'s head should have been. He shivered feeling the static-like caress surge through his fingers at the brief contact.

\"Trowa,\" the ghost said pleased.

\"And your name...\" Trowa prompted.

\"My name...\" the ghost reiterated.

\"Is Quatre Raberba Winner,\" Trowa finished.

The ghost looked troubled a moment, like he was looking for something, but couldn\'t remember what it was; then his features brightened, overcome, once again, by a smile, \"My name is Quatre.\"

The befuddlement mirrored itself perfectly in his eyes through he was showing his best face to Trowa.

\"I looked in the town records,\" Trowa lied.

Quatre looked puzzled a moment longer, then seemed to accept it whether he thought it to be true, or whether he just didn\'t want to think about it, Trowa wasn\'t certain.

\"I read all the books,\" Quatre said excitedly changing the subject.

\"How? That was only a couple days ago,\" Trowa said awe-stricken.

\"I didn\'t sleep,\" Quatre proclaimed proudly.

\"Aren\'t you tired?\" Trowa said, concern etched in his face. \"Do you want to sleep, now?\"

\"I\'m alright,\" Quatre grinned. \"I don\'t need to sleep.\"

\"Oh,\" Trowa replied, feeling a little foolish. Ghosts didn\'t need to sleep, they didn\'t have real bodies that needed the down time. He chewed his inner-lip, \"Did you learn anything?\"

\"I learned a lot,\" Quatre boasted in childish innocence.

\"What did you learn?\" Trowa asked, getting up to shut the window.

Quatre spent a good chunk of the afternoon recounting everything he\'d read almost as if the books had been directly translated into his mind. He knew dates, people, and events better than Trowa could remember them. He told him about everything from the first hominids to the crime ring in Chicago to the fall of the twin towers in New York 2001. He explained inventions to Trowa beyond his sphere of understanding, but became important to him because he had read about them in a book.

He finished his long talk with, \"Trowa, can you show me a lightbulb?\"

\"I\'ll show you whatever you want,\" Trowa replied. \"Lightbulbs, movies, cameras, A&W root beer, anything you want.\"

\"What exactly is a movie? I read about it, but, what is it?\" Quatskedsked crouching down in front of Trowa and looking at him expectantly.

\"It\'s a moving picture,\" Trowa explained lamely.

\"Is that all?\" Quatre prodded.

\"I think it\'d be easier to show you one,\" Trowa replied. \"Maybe a historical movie, something to get you caught up on the times.\"

\"I\'d like that,\" Quatre smiled. \"I want to see everything.\"

\"Then, I\'ll show you everything,\" Trowa stated simply.

The light in Quatre\'s eyes told him that there was no way he could ever consider say\"no\"no.\"

Anything Quatre wanted, Trowa figured, he\'d bend over backwards to supply.

He couldn\'t quite figure out whether it was his fascination with the young man, infatuation with the young man, or whether it was out of bold-faced lust for something that he could never have that prompted his complete acquiescence to the young ghost\'s wants and future whims.

\"Quatre, I-\" he began but was cut short by the sound of the front door.

\"Trowa!\" he heard Duo\'s voice from the foyer.

\"I have to go,\" he said hurriedly gathering his things.

\"Tomorrow?\" Quatre entreated him as Trowa tossed his bag out the window, the blue of his eyes shifted like the tide of the ocean but with a naive uncertainty that betrayed the waves\' consistency.

Trowa managed a wan smile, \"I\'ll try.\"

Then he slid out the window.

Quatre closed it behind him.

TBC

note(s):
1. *sigh* how terribly sad, spring break is al ove over. Only one more day :( And that\'s homework day X(
2. The diary entry for Iria was supposed to be in itallics, but the wordpad program I\'m using, the files I save with it can\'t be uploaded here, so, I have to copy+paste and lose all the itallics =__=
3. please read and review. Thanks^_^
btw: thank you Maka and Solo\'s ghost :) reviews DO help!^^