Satin Stephanois – Part 2
By
Shortly after we graduated Quatre was suddenly laid low with quite
severe abdominal pains. We were all
quite worried at first, then he found out that he had gallstones. I was surprised to hear this, because I
thought that this that was something that only people who ate a poor diet got
and also, wasn’t he kind of young for that sort of illness? Anyway, he went into hospital and underwent
surgery to remove the gallstones. It
was a relatively minor procedure and he was in and out quite quickly. Heero and I visited him often while he was
recuperating at home. We found him
physically well, but a little down because green-eyed Trowa was himself
undergoing treatment at the schizophrenia clinic and Quatre was missing him
very much.
The clinic did seem to help green-eyed Trowa very much, so Quatre
thought it well worth the anguish and despair he always went through during
their time apart from each other. Over
time Quatre had told Heero and I a little more about Trowa’s condition and the
measures that were taken to treat and control it. As a result we understood him and his behaviour a lot better and
we were able to treat and deal with him quite normally, even when he was going
through one of his paranoiac periods.
Quatre got better, Heero eventually got himself a really good job and I
opted to stay on at college to do a postgraduate course. Quatre decided to take a year or two off to
do some travelling before settling down at WEI, so he and green-eyed Trowa hit
the road. Heero and I didn’t see all
that much of them for the next couple of years, although we heard from them
often and we received frequent postcards from them from various exotic
locations around the globe.
They seemed to be having a thoroughly good time, until Q called me one
day in a complete panic. He was
extremely upset and he explained to me that he was calling from his apartment
in town. He had been summoned back for
an interview with his father. He
answered the summons and Mr Winner told him that he considered it high time
that Q took steps in the direction of producing an heir. He told him that he had already begun the
search for a suitable ‘bride’ for him, and that Dorothy Catalonia was top of
the list. Apparently her father was not
adverse to an alliance of the two families and he thought that, if Dorothy was
approached in the correct manner, she might also be made to see the value of
it.
Quatre was understandably having kittens. He had naively hoped that his father’s resolve on this issue would
have wavered by now, but it clearly had not.
I could have told him this of course, but... Anyway, he was not only balking at the idea of an arranged
marriage with Dorothy Catalonia, but more importantly, he was worried about
what this latest bombshell would do to green-eyed Trowa’s already fragile
wits. He said his father had told him
that the details of the ‘arrangement’ would take some little time to work out,
so at least he was not in any immediate
danger of having to stand at the alter, whey-faced and trembling, while Dorothy
Catalonia advanced up the aisle towards him on the arm of her father, but the
sands were running out. There were no
real words of comfort that I could offer him because the whole situation seemed
to have the inevitability of a Greek tragedy about it but I mollified him as
best I could and shortly afterwards he rang off.
Heero and I spent quite a bit of time with Quatre and green-eyed Trowa
before they left again to continue their travels. They both seemed in fine fettle, in spite of everything. Although Trowa was well aware that Quatre’s
father heartily disapproved of Quatre’s relationship with him, and he knew all
about Mr Winner’s plans for Quatre regarding the production of an heir, Quatre
had always played the whole thing down so as not to cause any upset to Trowa,
as he did now regarding this latest development. I really admired this in him, because having spoken to him just
afterward, I knew exactly how seriously his father’s words affected Quatre, but
seeing him in the days following, while Trowa was around, one would have sworn
that he had nothing on his mind but his hair.
I think he missed his calling – he would have made a rare actor.
When their whirlwind visit was over, Quatre and Trowa resumed their
travels and life for Heero and I settled back to normal. I completed my postgrad studies and did
remarkably well. Heero persuaded me to
study for a doctorate. He was doing
very well in his job and was making more that enough money to keep us both and
pay for my studies, so I agreed (although the prospect of being called ‘Dr
Maxwell’ for the rest of my life went some little way to convincing me). We moved out of our city apartment, bought a
large house in the ‘burbs’, a car and a dog, and became respectable
citizens. I still retained my
waist-length braid however – I could never be that respectable. Heero
went out to work to ‘win the bread’ and I stayed home to keep house and work on
my Ph. D thesis. All very domestic, and
all very wonderful. Life was very good.
About a year to a year and a half after Quatre and Trowa had left
following Quatre’s interview with his father, a strange incident occurred. I remember it as if it happened yesterday
because the whole thing was so odd. It
was around three o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. I was not working on my thesis that day, and I was busy in the
laundry room folding some laundry, when I heard the doorbell. I went to answer it and to my utter amazement,
who should be standing on the doorstep but Wufei. I ushered him in and asked him what on earth he was doing here,
not that I wasn’t pleased to see him, but he was supposed to be overseas with
Quatre and Trowa. I asked him if his
presence meant that Quatre and Trowa were back in town. He said no, it didn’t, and something about
the way in which he said it gave me the feeling that he wasn’t telling me the
truth. He then said that yes, Trowa was
in town because he was back at the clinic for a while, but that Quatre was
still overseas. I found this strange
because while Trowa did occasionally have to return for treatment at the
schizophrenia clinic, Quatre always came with him. Even though he couldn’t go into the clinic with him, he always
liked to be close by. I mentioned this
and Wufei said that Quatre had sent him
to be with Trowa instead. Now I knew that he wasn’t telling the
truth. Quatre would never do a thing
like that. What would be the point of
sending Wufei? If Trowa needed anything,
it would be Quatre he wanted, not Wufei.
Also, sending Wufei away meant that Quatre would have to fend for
himself, a thing he has never had to do before in his life and would be
entirely incapable of doing.
Wufei did not stay very long, but the longer he did stay the more
convinced I grew that something was very wrong. He seemed preoccupied and distant, in fact, his behaviour was not
unlike green-eyed Trowa’s when in the grip of his paranoia. I didn’t challenge him though. I offered him refreshment, which he
refused. We chatted desultorily about
various inconsequential matters, and all the while his eyes roamed around the
room, alighting on everything else but my own, and he toyed nervously with his
car keys. Several times he seemed to
gather himself together as if to make an announcement of some kind, then his
shoulders would sag again and the moment would pass. When he finally rose and abruptly took his leave, I hate to say
it but I was relieved, so oppressive was his presence. I called Heero immediately, and so upset and
unsettled was I by the visit, that he felt moved to come straight home and
comfort me.
I never did find out what that visit of Wufei’s was all about. I called Quatre later that day but got no
answer, which was by no means unusual when he was overseas, so I thought
nothing of it. However I did hear from
him a few days later. When I told him
that Wufei had dropped by, he sounded surprised, and a little apprehensive I
thought. I also told him of my surprise
that he did not accompany Trowa to the clinic.
He attempted a light laugh and said that as Trowa would only be gone for
a short time, he thought he would try to get by on his own. As I said before, Quatre could be a
consummate actor when he wanted to be, but he did not convince me this
time. I allowed him to keep his secret
however, and simply asked him if he was feeling okay. His voice had seemed a little weak and strained to me. He said that he was fine, but that he was
feeling a little sad and depressed because he was missing Trowa. I did my best to cheer him up, which I
seemed to have succeeded in doing by the end of the conversation, then
promising to call again soon, he rang off.
Time went by and we saw Quatre and Trowa only occasionally, as they were
still spending most of their time overseas.
Quatre’s ‘year or two’ off had become almost four years by now, and
counting. It looked to me as though he
had absolutely no intention of joining his father’s firm. It was at this time that another strange
thing happened and unbeknown to me at the time, this heralded the beginning of
the end. I received a call from Quatre
as I was lazing around in the house one Sunday afternoon, and he excitedly
asked me,
“Duo, guess where I’m calling from.”
After a few stabs in the dark, I gave up and admitted defeat. “I’m calling from The House.” He supplied triumphantly.
“The Winner House?” I asked with not a little incredulity, since Heero
and I received a postcard from him and green-eyed Trowa only the previous week,
featuring a very nice picture of Ayres Rock and informing us what a wonderful
time they were having in New Zealand.
“Yes,” He confirmed, “And Trowa’s here with me. We’re going to stay for a while.” I began to ask him how this miracle had been
achieved, since the last I heard the name of Trowa Barton was anathema to
Quatre’s father, but he cut me off. “I
only called to invite you and Heero to dinner tonight. If you have any plans, cancel them. We’ll expect you at seven for
cocktails. Dinner will be at
eight. It’ll be formal so wear black
tie, and don’t be late! I’ll explain
everything when I see you.”
Quatre never did ‘explain everything’.
We arrived for dinner on time and suitably attired, and Mr Winner was as
congenial a host as he usually was, with the exception that his hospitality had
been extended to green-eyed Trowa for the first time ever. One would never have known it though. He
behaved throughout as though Trowa was a much-loved son-in-law, and as though
dinner all together was a regular and most welcome occurrence. Whenever I tried to ask Quatre what had
happened to make his father extend the olive branch to such an extent, he
artfully steered around the question, babbling on about this, that and the
next, never really answering it. The
thing was, I couldn’t really work out whether he was just too excited about the
whole evening or whether he was deliberately evading the question. I let it go. The fact was that Quatre and his father were reconciled, and I
didn’t want to look that particular gift horse in the mouth.
I found out another wonderful thing that evening. It seemed that not only had Mr Winner
extended the hand of friendship to green-eyed Trowa, he had also withdrawn his
demands regarding Quatre’s producing an heir and Q was now free to do and live as he pleased. ‘Well, lucky Quatre’, I thought, ‘all his
problems are over’. Little did I know.
Even though Quatre and Trowa were now living in the same city as Heero
and I, just as when we were students, we did not see each other as much as we had
back then. Our lives were very
different now. We were much older, we
had more responsibilities (well Heero and I did anyway), and we had better
things to do than hang out at each others’ houses. Even so, it was good having them back, and knowing that they were
both close at hand and very happy.
Wufei moved into the Winner House also, although he was now perforce
somewhat superfluous as Quatre’s ‘keeper’.
It was good for him to be with his father again also, so it seemed to
work out all round.
Heero had a wonderful stroke of luck, in that his company had asked him
to go Japan to set up a new office they were opening over there. Heero is of Japanese extraction, and had
been born and had spent most of his childhood in Japan. He was excited about going back to his
homeland, although he was a little apprehensive also, since not all of his
memories of his childhood days in Japan were good ones. I was allowed to go with him, and I was also
excited about seeing his roots, where he came from. I thought it would be an important trip for both of us. I had never been there and he had never been
back since leaving her shores many years ago, so it was a first for us
both. We had a wonderful three months,
although I worried about Mitzi, our Finnish Spitz, almost incessantly. We left her with a neighbour and after a
little initial pining, she seemed to settle down quite well. Then I began to worry that she would forget
us and not want to come home. I think I
almost drove Heero mad. Anyway, it was
a very successful trip for him and a very enlightening one for me, but we were
both very glad to get home.
We came home to a mountain of mail, and as I sorted the ‘wheat from the
chaff’, I recognised Wufei’s handwriting on one of the envelopes. It was postmarked only a few days
previously. I was puzzled as to why
Wufei would send a letter rather than just call, so I ripped open the envelope.
Duo and Heero
Please call me as soon as you return. Do not call the Winner House, call me on my
cellphone. This is very important.
Wufei
That was all it said. As I read
it an ominous feeling of dread welled up in the pit of my stomach. As I stood there stupidly reading and
re-reading the note, Heero came in. He
was about to go across the street to retrieve Mitzi from our neighbour, but as
he took the note from my nerveless fingers and read it, he decided to leave her
where she was for the moment. He gently
sat me down on the sofa, reached for the phone and called Wufei.
The conversation was brief. A
few affirmative grunts from Heero were all I heard before he hung up and turned
to me.
“He’s coming over.” He
said. He then sat next to me on the
sofa and took me in his arms.
Neither of us wasted any time speculating as to what we thought might
have happened. We both knew that
whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be good.
We sat there, holding each other until Wufei arrived, our joy at finally
being back home forgotten.
When Wufei arrived Heero rose to let him in. I didn’t go to the door but I was on my feet when Heero showed
him into the room.
“Wufei what’s happened, where’s Quatre?” I asked anxiously. Heero
had crossed the room to stand beside me.
Together we stared expectantly at Wufei. It was then that I took in Wufei’s appearance. He looked tired, haggard and utterly
drained. Dark circles ringed his red-rimmed
eyes and his coal-black hair hung limp and lifeless around his drooping
shoulders, as if he couldn’t even summon up the energy to tie it back in its
customary pony tail.
“Duo,” He began, then he looked from me to Heero, then back to me
again. “Duo, Quatre’s dead.”
I have only a hazy recollection of what happened after that. I remember my knees giving way beneath me
and Heero’s strong arms breaking my fall.
I also remember crying, quite a lot.
It seemed as though I cried for a whole week solid, but I can’t have can
I? It must only have been hours,
perhaps only minutes. I think I must
have been hysterical, because Heero went out and fetched our neighbour, the one
who was looking after Mitzi. He was a
doctor and I remember him injecting me with something. I remember that distinctly because it hurt,
but mercifully I soon forgot everything and drifted into a dreamless
oblivion. It was too good to last
however, and I eventually came to and had to face the reality and the enormity
of what Wufei had told us. I was calmer
by then, completely numb in fact, and I was able to listen to the circumstances
of my best friend’s death.
Quatre had been suffering from stomach cancer for the past six years. He was diagnosed shortly after we graduated,
although he had been having symptoms long before that. He didn’t want to worry anyone, so he kept
it to himself. The only person who knew
about it from the start was Wufei, and he only told Wufei because Quatre knew
that he would need to enlist some help in order to keep it from everyone
else. His tumour was quite well
advanced by the time he sought medical attention, and he knew pretty much from
the outset that his case was terminal, but it was decided that removal by
surgery might provide a temporary remission.
This was the gallstones operation.
He had apparently asked his doctors for the name of a non-serious
condition that had symptoms similar to those he had been experiencing. This way he sought to deflect any curiosity
from friends and family regarding his health.
I remember thinking at the time that Quatre hardly seemed to fit the
profile of gallstones sufferers, but I saw no reason to look enquire any further
and neither, it seems, did anyone else.
He succeeded in throwing dust in all of our eyes quite nicely.
He even fooled green-eyed Trowa, and green-eyed Trowa was closer to him
than anyone else. Wufei told us that
this was the real reason for the schizophrenia clinic. Apparently if it hadn’t been for his
illness, Quatre would never had allowed green-eyed Trowa to enter an
institution, which when all was said and done, as expensive and luxurious as it
undoubtedly was, this is ultimately what the clinic amounted to. Quatre always suggested a visit to the
clinic to Trowa whenever he felt his symptoms coming on. So that Trowa would not see and become upset
by his obvious suffering, he sent him away to the clinic. This was a useful expedient for Quatre
because not only did it keep green-eyed Trowa out of the way, it did him the
power of good also. This was also why
he spent so much time overseas. That
way he would not have to deal with untimely visits from well-meaning friends
(meaning Heero and me). One had to
admire Quatre, he was definitely an artful deceiver.
He could have prolonged his life had he agreed to chemo or radiotherapy,
but he flatly refused. Such treatments
had very visible and debilitating side-effects, and once again, Trowa was to be
kept in the dark as long as possible. This
whole elaborate charade was purely for green-eyed Trowa’s benefit. Quatre knew that they only had a limited
time left together, and he wanted that time to be a happy time for Trowa, not
spent watching him waste away, balding and toothless as a result of
chemotherapy. He opted for the surgery,
which would give him as long as it gave him, and then when the tumours
returned, as he knew they would, he decided to have no treatment at all, until
the end came.
“But why didn’t he tell us?” I wailed as Wufei related the story. I could understand him keeping it from
green-eyed Trowa, but from us? I was so hurt by the fact that Quatre did
not deem even Heero and I worthy of his confidence, that I started crying all
over again.
“It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to keep his secret,” Wufei reassured me, “He knew very well that you would take it to
your grave if need be, it was jus that he knew that you loved him too much to
be able to treat him normally if you knew, and he was afraid that Trowa would
pick up on that. Remember, Trowa
suffered from paranoid delusions, and you know how his mind could sometimes
distort his perception, and how perfectly normal statements and occurrences
could take on a new and sinister meaning for him.” Wufei was right. Heero and
I knew this only too well, having been intimately acquainted with green-eyed
Trowa for over eight years. “Well this
was why he didn’t tell you. He just
couldn’t be sure that by some..., no not word, because he knew that you would
never give him away verbally, but by some gesture, because of your concern for
him, you might not arouse Trowa’s suspicion and as you know very well, it is a
very bad idea to lie to a paranoid schizophrenic.”
I understood, but his words were cold comfort to me. The person I considered dearer to me than a
brother had been dying for six years, and I new nothing about it. I never even guessed that anything was
wrong! No, this was not quite
true. There were times that I suspected
that something was definitely wrong, but I never guessed that it could be
anything like this. What kind of a
friend must I have been? I then turned
my abject grief and self-recrimination upon Wufei.
“And you?” I raved at him, “How
could you not have told us? How could
you have let him die and not told us?
We could have helped him, I’m sure we could have done something.” I broke down weeping again.
“I wanted to.” Wufei said
lamely. “I wanted him to. Believe me, I
begged him to tell you, or to let me tell you.
I kept telling him that it would be worse for you when the end came if
you hadn’t known beforehand. He
acknowledged that I was right, but he would not risk Trowa’s happiness. It was between you and Trowa, and I’m sorry
Duo, that was one battle that you would never win. ‘Heero will help him’ he would say, whenever the subject came up.
I almost did tell you.” He
continued. “Do you remember that day
when I came round to see you out of a blue sky, and you were folding the
laundry?” I remembered only too
well. “Well I made up my mind to tell
you everything that day. If you recall,
Trowa was in the clinic, and you expressed surprise that Quatre was not with
him. The reason he had not come was
that he was too ill to travel. He was
actually in a hospital in Buenos Ares at the time I was sitting in your kitchen
making polite conversation, and I believe that he phoned you from there a few
days later, when he was able to
speak. I got Trowa out of the way quickly
by telling him that Quatre’s father was in Buenos Ares on a on a business trip,
and wanted to see Quatre. He knew that
that meant that his presence would not be required, so he and I went on to the
clinic ahead, him thinking that Quatre would follow on later. Trowa was far from happy about leaving him,
but he saw that he had no real choice.”
“So why didn’t you tell me that day?”
I asked.
“I just couldn’t bring myself to betray Quatre’s confidence.” He replied.
“He had constructed this cocoon around Trowa so carefully, that I just
couldn’t take the responsibility of telling you upon myself. What if he was right, and because of
something you did, albeit unwittingly, the whole house of cards came tumbling
down around his ears? What would I do
then? No, I’m sorry but I just couldn’t
do it.”
I nodded absently, not able to summon up the will to do anything
more. I felt drained, drained of tears,
drained of emotion, even drained of life.
He went on to tell us the reason for Quatre’s father’s sudden change of
heart. It was because Quatre felt the
end was coming and he didn’t want to die far away from his home, his friends
and his family. He actually told his
father everything. Well that changed
everything and Mr Winner decided to allow Quatre to live out his days in any
way he chose to.
“He wanted to tell you too, at the end, but you were overseas and he
didn’t want to interrupt Heero’s business trip. He knew how important it was for you.” He turned to Heero as he said this.
“What about Trowa?” I asked,
suddenly revitalised, “He must be devastated, where is he?” I tried to scramble to my feet, but Heero
tightened his hold on me fixing me in position against his broad chest.
“It’s alright,” He said soothingly.
“He’s at the Winner House. While
you were under sedation Wufei and I made arrangements to drive out there as
soon as you were able to travel.”
“We have to be quick.” Wufei
said. “I didn’t want to leave him
because there is no-one else there to really look out for him and I’m very
worried about what he might do. I
managed to locate Catherine and she is on her way. She will be able to help me take care of Trowa, but she will take
a day or so to get here. Eveyone else
is too caught up in their own grief to spare a thought for Trowa, and they
don’t know about his condition. Only Mr
Winner knows, and his thoughts are most definitely elsewhere. I came out to tell you the news, because I
didn’t want you to come to the house without being prepared. There is a news blackout on the story for a
while, but not even the Winner PR machine will be able to contain it for
long. You came back just in time
because I was worried that you might learn about it in the papers, and I wanted
to avoid that at all cost.”
We made our way to the Winner House as soon as we could, but we were too
late. By the time we got there green-eyed
Trowa had attempted to re-join his beloved Quatre by the simple expedient of
walking into Mr Winner’s study, taking a small calibre revolver out of the desk
drawer, putting it to his head and pulling the trigger. We heard the shot as we entered the house,
and we were the first to arrive on the scene.
The emergency services were called and he was rushed to hospital, but he
was pronounced dead on arrival.
There is not much more to say.
Six months later and I am doing much better than I was. Heero has been so patient with me, I don’t
know how he does it. Even though it was
a crucial time for him at work, especially after the Japan trip, he took a
sabbatical to look after me. ‘There
will be other opportunities’ he says, whenever I mention the fact that I have
ruined his career. My doctorate is also
on hiatus for the moment. I don’t think
I will ever complete it now. Even the
thought of ‘Dr Maxwell’, has lost its appeal.
It hit me hard, but I think it hit Wufei even harder, and unfortunately
he doesn’t have a Heero to help him through it. He stays here with us sometimes, but I don’t think he likes to,
because it reminds him too much. It
reminds him of the fact that if it hadn’t been for us, for me, he might have
been able to save Trowa. It looks as
though I’m just destined to ruin everything for everyone doesn’t it? Heero tells me not to talk like that, but
it’s true isn’t it?
I think of Quatre and green-eyed Trowa often. All the time, in fact. I
wonder if they are happy where they are.
I think they must be, because at least they are together and they were
always happiest when they were together.
Trowa survived Quatre by four days.
They were buried together in the Winner family vault, so Quatre was not
quite correct when he said that only death would part Trowa and he. Not even death could do that.
*Dedicated to Parnell & Leslie - Rest in Peace
boys.