A New Life: Prologue (1) The second half of the prologue is coming after I see this one post! Author: Quwinntessa Starber Disclaimer: Not my characters (except the ones I made up myself). Those people that own GW own them all, I'm just playing with them for a little while. Rating: It's got Lemon and Lime written all over it! Well, in Chapter 3 anyway. Author's note: I've been trying to send this for over a week! Egroups wont' post it and I don't know why. Anyway, I've broken the prologue into two parts, thinking the story will go through if it's shorter, but here's hoping against hope! This is a 3x4, 4x3, 2+1, 5+S story, with a few people thrown in along the way. The story is over 189 pages long, and it's got 26 chapters so far. I'm not saying this to disuade you from reading, but I know how much I love a long story! One more thing: I'd like to ask that people do not comment on things like, "Trowa would never be dominant over Quatre" or "3x4, are you crazy!!??!!?!?" Please remember this is a story, one which takes place five years after the show ended. If the characters seem OCC, try to remember that in this story, they grew up a little. Also, I'd love to hear from you, feedback is the food of the gods! All I ask is if you're going to critisize, then please take the time to do it nicely. This story has already had it's own little drama attached to it on another list... Feedback to: soltisdk@worldnet.att.net “DAMNIT, CIJEN!” The outburst took the four Gundam pilots completely by surprise as they entered the main conference room of the Preventers.  It wasn’t the sound, or even the rage that surrounded the statement, but the fact that Quatre Raberba Winner was the one that said it.  He sat in one of the many conference chairs that surrounded a large, round, wooden table.  Facing a vid-com, his blond bangs prevented him from noticing the entrance of his friends, but didn’t hinder them from noting whom their quiet friend was talking too. The vid-com showed a long table, around which sat over two dozen women, ranging in age from their mid forties to mid twenties, Quatre’s sisters.  In front of each and every one of them were stacks and stacks of papers, glasses of water, and computer screens.  Like the four boys, Quatre’s sisters were all in stunned silence, their faces showing their emotions clearly. Quatre’s head was down, his chin nearly resting on his chest; his breath was labored, as if he were trying-unsuccessfully-to stop the shakes of rage that poured off of him.  Finally, after nearly a minute of silence, he spoke. “What I choose is just that, my own choice.  I will not be dictated to and instructed in how I will live my life, do you understand?”  There was a deadly calm in his voice, the fury barely hidden under the surface where he’d so neatly tucked it.  Cijen didn’t notice. “No I don’t understand, Quatre!  This isn’t just about you, this is about the whole family, and I for one will not be humiliated any further because of you.” Quatre took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself, but to no avail.  Iria’s voice cut through his concentration, and he again felt the rage boil. “That’s enough Cijen!  Quatre we didn’t call you to start an argument, you’re entirely right, what you choose to do, and who you choose to do it with is entirely up to you!” “That’s Bullshit and you know it, Iria!”  Cijen stood, hands pressed against the table in front of her, papers flying everywhere in her anger.  “Everything he does effects us!  He’s our heir, and he has to face responsibility for everything he does, as such!  He drags our name through the sewer every time he’s seen in public with that-that no-breed boy of his!”  She stopped looking at Iria, and turned her attention to Quatre.  “And now, Little Brother, you want me to understand you!  You want all of us to accept your “CHOICE”. That isn’t going to happen, Quatre, and you know why?!  Because no one else will accept it!  High society will not accept it!  You’re the laughing stock of the entire colonies, parading around that no-breed like he was a prize peacock!  You’ve disgraced us all, Quatre!  It’s a good thing Father is dead-“ “Cijen!  How dare you!  How dare you presume to know what Father would have thought-“ “Shut up, Seeafa!  You and I, and everyone here know what Father wanted.  Why the hell else would he put a Will together like this?!  Um?  You tell me that!  Father knew Quatre was a disgrace from the very beginning, he knew he would bring us all down in the end, and this was his way of trying to prevent our families destruction!  I will not loose everything!”  Cijen looked back at Quatre, death in her eyes.  “Do you understand me Quatre!  I will not loose everything I own because you “CHOOSE” to be fucked like a dog!” “ENOUGH!”  Quatre saw red as he stood, his chair toppling over in the rush.  “I have said all I will say on this matter!  If you’re so interested in how I spend my evenings, I’ll have a video made for you!”  A startled gasp came from the vid-com, but Quatre didn’t notice.  “Who I choose to spend my time with, or even my bed, is none of anyone’s business.  I will not be shoved into a corner.  High society-as you so graciously put it, Cijen-will accept anything I throw at it, because I control more of the goings on in outer space than even Queen Relena!  If I want to have Trowa,” he emphasized his lovers name, “escort me to board meetings, or even the cocktail parties afterwards, then by god I will!  “And as for the way Father saw me, I should think it’s quite obvious.  I thank you Iria and Seeafa, for trying to defend me, but it’s true, our father did not agree with most things I did; and he most certainly did not agree with my choice in company.  However, I disobeyed Father on more than one occasion, and this will be no different.” “What are you talking about, Quatre!  This is not something you can simply ignore and make go away!  You’ve known for years what Fathers Will stated, and you chose to ignore it!  Now you have no choice but to face it!”  Cijen took a deep breath, and along with her, her sisters also, their futures rode on what she said next. “Perhaps your right, Quatre.  Your choices in sexual partners may be a disgrace to us all, but it only dirties our name, not destroys it.  But this, your constant refusal to do what needs to be done, will surely destroy us all!  The fact still remains Quatre, you have less than a year to produce a child, or your entire fortune-our entire fortune-will be liquefied and scattered across the colonies.  Father’s Will was very specific, you will produce an heir by your 21st birthday, or everything our father and his fathers before him, worked so hard to obtain, will be simply given away to a pacifist group.  We cannot allow that to happen!” Quatre was quiet, he still stood by the com-unit, his hands clenched on either side of it, knuckles white with pressure.  He shifted, intending to pace a few feet to clear his head, when he caught sight of his friends in the doorway, and froze in stunned shame. On their faces ranged anger, shock, and rage.  But on the one face he needed clarification for, there was no emotion.  Trowa stood stock still, his arms crossed over his chest, and the bangs that fell over half of his face concealed the expression Quatre needed to see.  He looked to him, pleading eyes searching for some sign of Trowa’s true emotion; was he disappointed that he had not defended him better, or angry because now he knew, knew the secret that Quatre had been keeping for almost five years. His father had always been worried that he craved the attention of other boys around him.  Quatre himself had received all the womanly affection he could possibly want from the younger of his sisters, so it seemed only natural, to him at least, to want to spend time with boys his own age.  However, as he got older, the attention he sought changed from comradeship to something deeper and more meaningful.  He would never in his life forget the cold, hate filled stares of those attending the Gala Ball his father threw every year, when Quatre-only twelve-had brought his friend EnLoy to the party, and held his hand.  EnLoy was of course not interest in Quatre as anything more than a friend, and neither was Quatre, but he had caused the scene of the year.  Since that fateful night, his father had tried unsuccessfully to steer him in more than one young woman’s direction.  Finally it would seem, his father had had enough. The Will Mr. Winner had drawn up, was revised after the war had taken Quatre away from his family, but Section G, Paragraph 8, Lines 15-25 had not been changed for many years.  They stated in no uncertain terms that Quatre was to have a child, failure to do so would result in the liquidation of his family’s assets, and the entire fortune to be given to a worthy pacifist group.  Quatre saw his father killing two birds with one stone in this proposal.  With only two options, his father had forced him to either bed a woman in the hopes of conceiving, or to use genetics; the production of a baby through a test-tub using one male and one female donor; effectively forcing Quatre to commit his fathers sin against him again, to protect his family. The lawyers had first read the Will to himself and his 29 sisters during that brief period of time when Quatre had returned to outer space searching for Trowa.  But then he was only 16 and had more than enough time to consider a bed of convenience.  That had all changed later when he had finally found Trowa.  The two of them had begun a new friendship in light of Trowa’s memory loss.  But once his memory had returned, the new emotions he had experienced with Quatre, merged with the ones he had forgotten, to produce something warm and safe to the young mercenary.  When the war ended they had worked together as Perventers, and it had just happened. Both of them realized that such a relationship-while acceptable in the colonies-was not smiled upon on Earth or high society.  So they had kept it a secret from everyone, even the other three pilots.  It wasn’t until Duo had gotten completely drunk one night and started talking about the injustice of having to hide he and Heero’s relationship, that Quatre and Trowa had decided to tell their friends.  They were more than a little surprised when Heero only gave them a faint smile, and Duo remarked “Well duh!”  Wufei had nodded his head in understanding and returned to he and Sally’s quarters.  Since then both he and Trowa, and Heero and Duo, had become open about their relationships around each other.  Quatre remembered fondly the times when Duo would come to him seeking advice on how to get Heero to open up, and the two of them would bounce ideas off of each other as to some new or amazingly romantic thing to show their love deprived partners how they felt.  In their home, the Preventers headquarters, he and Trowa were safe. But as time moved on and his 21st birthday drew closer, his sisters began demanding he give more thought to having the child.  “The” child.  To them it was nothing more than a means to an end.  He couldn’t bear the idea of having a child to secure a fortune he didn’t even want.  But he loved his sisters, he’d fought in a war and destroyed his soul for them, he wanted to protect them, even against this.  So he had hired attorneys, dozens of them, to go over the Will letter by letter in the hopes of finding a loophole they could use.  But after nearly a year of cross-examinations, they had determined there were no loopholes.  During that time, Quatre had solidified his resolution to not produce a child genetically.  That said nothing of Trowa.  Dear, beloved Trowa, Quatre loved and cherished him more than he could possibly ever put into enough beautiful words; he would not betray Trowa, he would take no other lover, not even for one night, not even to protect his sisters. Which left him in the spot he now resided.  His sisters were desperate, attacking his relationship with Trowa for lack of any other means of outlet.  What they hoped to accomplish, he didn’t know, surely they didn’t think attacking his lover would strengthen their case for him to have a child, but that didn’t seem to dissuade their cheep shots and hateful words.  He would never understand why family would stand against family.  The Maganac, and even the other pilots cared for and gave him more support than his own family.  Even Heero had more kind words for him than his own flesh and blood. He looked to Trowa again, hoping against hope to see something in the one beautiful eye that was always visible, but usually gave away nothing.  Quatre knew that Trowa often felt ashamed that he could not show him more of himself, but after nearly five years, Quatre had no complaints as to how much he knew of his lover.  There were some things Trowa would never be able to tell him, and some things he would never be able to express to him, but regardless, Quatre loved him, wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to show Trowa that fact again and again. Quatre heard his sister call his name, Cijen wanted his attention, demanded that he answer her.  Instead Quatre moved across the room to stand in front of Trowa.  His expression was open showing his beloved the pain he felt for not being able to defend him properly against his sisters verbal attack.  He presented his inner turmoil at the idea of creating a child for no purpose but to save a fortune.  Quatre bared his soul, and waited for sentence. The hand that suddenly touched his face was warm, moist, attesting to it being held in a clenched fist for quite some time.  Opening his eyes, Quatre was greeted by the sight of Trowa, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heero walk over to the vid-com and without saying a word to his sisters, put them on hold.  Quatre smiled a thanks to his quiet friend, and turned back to Trowa. “You may explain now or later, but if you don’t explain now, I will not let you return to that call.”  There was concern in Trowa’s voice, not anger or hate, and Quatre couldn’t help the welling of relieved and yet frustrated tears from prickling behind his eyes. He nodded his head, before taking a deep breath, “My fathers Will states that I must produce an heir by my 21st birthday, or everything that my family has will be lost. My sisters-“ “You mean the bitches!”  Duo interjected, quiet for far too long, forced to watch his best friend ridiculed by the ones that should love him most. “Yes, perhaps.  They feel that I am being foolish by refusing to either,” he paused, looking away from Trowa’s lovely face, “bed a woman, or have a child genetically.  I have refused both options, and now it seems my family will lose their fortune.  As you could probably guess, they are less than happy about the prospects.” “Hateful women!  They have no honor, no pride in family!”  Wufei exclaimed, anger flashing through is eyes.  He and Wufei had not often seen eye to eye on many matters, but that didn’t prevent them from being friends.  Wufei fought for justice, honor, and the spirit of a warrior, he would not let Quatre down. Heero returned to their small circle, and placed a hand on Quatre’s arm.  Turning, Quatre regarded Heero and noted the sad expression on his face.  Heero was often doing that now, allowing emotion to dance across his face when in the safe company of his friends.  Now it worried Quatre, as Heero spoke, “They know how you feel about Trowa, and your opinion on artificial birth?”  Quatre nodded his head, “Then there isn’t anything to discuss, they should be preparing for the inevitable.” “But that’s just it Heero!  How can I-how can I ask them to give up all that they have simply because I don’t want to do something!  I-I don’t know how to justify my needs to their many!” “Quatre, man it’s real simple.  It’s your sperm, tell them to fuck off!”  Life was so simple for Duo. Quatre shook his head, hoping one of his famous strategies would present its self, but it didn’t help. Then suddenly Trowa spoke, “What does your heart tell you to do, Quatre?” He looked at Trowa, a stunned expression on his face.  He should have known that Trowa would understand, would give him the best means to finding an answer.  Trowa knew of his empathic abilities, the ones that often gave him such advantage in discerning Trowa’s emotions.  Trowa was telling him to let his emotions guide him in his decision.  Quatre closed his eyes, blocking out the outside world, as he stepped into that dark place that housed his talent.  He let his thoughts surround the facts, listing his emotional pleas and categorizing them by priorities.  He examine the emotions he’d received from his sisters, and weighed them against the ones he felt from himself, Trowa, and his other friends.  They were all, in some way, effected by his decision, their opinions mattered. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked to Trowa and gave his love a weak smile.  Standing on his toes, he leaned up and gave him a quick chase kiss before moving from his embrace and back to the vid-com. Taking the call off hold he watched his sisters arguing amongst themselves.  He shook his head and waited for them to note his return to the call.  One by one, they noticed his return, and took their seats.  When at last even Cijen and Iria had made their way back to their chairs, Quatre began a statement that brought him almost as much pain as destroying the colony in L4. “Your lack of compassion and understanding has greatly surprised me.  I had always considered myself very lucky to have so many sisters to love and care for me.  But now it seems they have all turned away, and instead of words of love, bombard me with ones of hate and contempt.  For the pain you say I caused you, for the disgrace you say I brought upon the family name, I ask your forgiveness.  But I will not apologize for my decisions.  I will not apologize for falling in love with Trowa, or for wanting the world to know how happy he makes me.  I would have hoped that my dearest sisters would understand and accept my feelings, loving me regardless of society’s norms, but that doesn’t appear to be the way things will happen.  I feel great sadness that I cannot turn to you, Cijen, or you Liteea for comfort or even for something as simple as a kind word.  But if that is the way it must be, then so be it. “Now, you ask me to decide the fate of this family that has turned its back on me.  You ask me to have a child for no purpose other than to secure your own children’s inheritance, and that is something I will not do.”  An uproar started in the L4 colony as his sisters began to yell at each other and him.  Quatre waited for them to quiet before he continued, ignoring all that had been said to him, and the deadly looks from Cijen and some of the others.  “None of you can understand the feeling that comes with knowing you were created not out of love, but out of purpose.  Luckily, you had mothers that cared for and loved you, and in most cases you had each other’s mothers to lean on.  Also Father, held each one of you in his heart.  I can remember seeing picture after picture lining the walls of his office, your faces looking back at him with smiles of love.  You cannot comprehend what it means to know your existence is nothing more than a last resort of an aging man’s desire to care for his beloved daughters.  I never deceived myself in thinking I was more than I was to him, and now his Will only proves it.  But I will not allow a child of my body grow up believing that he or she was created.  When or if, I ever decide to have a child it will be when Trowa and I decide the time is right, and then we-the two of us alone-will decide the best means to accomplish the task. “To this end, my decision is to ignore Father’s Will.  This means that we have less than a year to make arrangements for 879 Trillion credits.  All assets, stocks, bonds, and floating credits are to be liquidated, so states the Will.  So as a means of precaution, and to allow for you to maintain some semblance of the lifestyles you have become accustomed to, I will hire the best attorneys the Earth has to offer, and attempt to shelter a vast amount of credits from the liquidation.  This will by no means prevent the greater part of our fortune from dissolving, so I suggest you each decide on a plan of personal action.  Whatever credits the lawyers are able to shelter will be divided into 29 equal parts and distributed to each of you the day before my 21st birthday.  I am personally happy with the amount of funds I have currently, and will not take purchase in the dividing of assets.  “I suggest you get together at some future date, and decided what pacifist group you would like the majority of the funds to go to.  Choose wisely, for whichever group you do decide, will have more power in the colonies and on Earth than any other pacifist group.  I would ask that you look into the newly developing Sanc kingdom, which is gaining the most headway in terms of lasting peace.  If you would like, I will even set up an appointment for you to speak with Queen Relena Peacecraft. “I know most of you must feel betrayed, but please try to understand that I am not doing this out of malice, but honor.  I feel it is my duty to protect and love any child, or woman I would chose to have a child with; and the very idea of creating life for credits has absolutely no honor in it.  My hope is that one day you will all see this, and eventually come to understand it. “That is all I have to say on the matter.  Should you need to contact me again, to either discuss what the lawyers have come up with, or to simply speak to your brother, I will be more than happy.  I do hope that time will heal our broken family, but my heart tells me that I have forever divided you, and for that I will be eternally sorry.  May Allah protect and guide you all in your choices ahead. “Quatre out.” The call ended, and with it, Quatre felt a sense of loss so great, he could hardly prevent the sobs that shook his, small body.  Strong arms supported and cradled him as Quatre leaned into Trowa, and allowed his taller partner to hold him.  He could hear Duo and Heero talking quietly in the back ground, as Trowa began to softly offer words of affection and encouragement.  It seemed pointless though, as Quatre could only mumble over and over, “What have I done.” * * * Some hours later found Quatre sitting quietly in his room having a cup of tea.  He felt Trowa’s presence behind him, “Come sit, Trowa.  I should explain a little more to you.” Trowa moved from his place by the wall.  Often times he had simply stood against it, watching Quatre enjoying a cup of tea and looking out the window.  He never seemed to get enough of the vision of blond hair and pale porcelain skin.  His greatest joy in life was watching Quatre sleep, mesmerized by the slight rise and fall of his chest, letting him know again and again that this wasn’t a dream he’d created for himself, that there lying beside him at night was truly an angel, his angel. He took the offered seat, and the tiny teacup Quatre always seemed to have handy.  Memories of he and Quatre moving all of the Arabians things into the rooms they now shared invaded his thoughts.  He remembered how he’d accidentally dropped the box containing all of Quatre’s beautiful bone china teacups.  Guilt had overcome him, but Quatre had merle laughed and told him not to worry, he hadn’t particularly like that set anyway.  Trowa remembered Quatre’s face when, a few days later, he had presented him with an old and worn tea set.  “A long time ago, this was mine.  Now I want you to have it.”  Quatre hadn’t been able to mask the emotion on his face; instead they had washed the set out and had a beautiful cup of tea before returning to their room.  That night had been amazing, both giving and receiving pleasure beyond anything that had come before it.  Later Quatre had said, “Thank you for the tea set Trowa, but I’m afraid I can’t accept it.”  He had been visibly upset-which is a very rare occurrence-but Quatre knew what he was doing.  “Since we decided to move in together, all that I have is yours, and all that you have is mine.  Therefore I don’t need to be given your beautiful tea set,” he smiled, “I already have it.”  God how he loved this boy. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions you want answered.  Maybe it would be best to start with those.  What-what can I tell you, Trowa?”  There was a nervousness in his voice that Trowa didn’t like.  Quatre had always been open with him, more so than he ever was with Quatre.  But now he seemed guarded, like he was afraid of the questions Trowa was going to ask, afraid he wouldn’t like the answers.  Trowa needed Quatre to understand that it didn’t matter, none of this mattered, his sisters and high society could go to Hell for all he cared, all that mattered was him, his angel of salvation. “Quatre, I’d like to understand exactly what has happened.  I had no idea your father’s Will had this stipulation to it.  I’m,” he paused, “I guess I’m sad that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me-“ “Oh God Trowa, it isn’t that!  Please, oh please don’t think that.  This had nothing to do with trust.  I-I couldn’t tell you.  I didn’t want you to have to bear the same-I didn’t want you to worry about something you couldn’t fix.  I wanted to tell you, but what was the point, it was just something I had to do-do on my own.” “I didn’t mean to sound accusing.  I only want to be there for you when you need me.  Quatre,” the boy across from him looked up, “You did need me.” He saw him nod his head before turning to look out the window.  When he looked back he was calmer, more collected, more like the Quatre he knew, a complete and utter mask.  “No Quatre!  Don’t do that with me, don’t hide from me.”  He moved from his seat to kneel before his lover.  Resting his hands gently on the blondes’ knees, Trowa watched the inner battle that raged in Quatre.  Whether to let his lover in, or keep him out, so many decisions… “Let me help you, Beloved.  In five years you have never asked more from me than to stay by your side, and I have asked you to accept a man that can barely show you his feelings, let alone his love.”  Quatre made to protest but Trowa’s gentle fingers on his lips silenced him, “I know my own short-comings, and I know yours to.  Too often you try to take the burden of the world onto your shoulders.  Now is not the time to do such a thing.  Tell me what is going on, the details; let me take some of the burden.” “No Trowa, I can’t.  You’ve been through so much, worse things that I can even imagine, things that even our love may never heal.  My problems are so petty, so ridiculous!  I won’t ask you to do any more than you already have.”  He placed his hands over Trowa’s, “You’ve done so much already, not condemning me for withholding information from you.  That you-“ his voice caught in his throat, “Can even stand to be here with me after everything I’ve done…means so much…” Trowa stood, pulling Quatre with him.  He moved over to his own chair and sat, pulling Quatre into his arms, his head to the crook of his neck.  “Listen to me Quatre.  I may not be very good with words, and there are times like this that I wish I were, but listen with your heart, and you’ll understand.”  The Arabian nodded and he continued.  “I have spent the better part of my life with nothing, but I’ll never forget the day you called to me over the com-unit.  I’ll never forget that when I came out, the first thing you said was for me to put my hands down, that you had surrendered first.  You have always been the one to sacrifice, Quatre.  You went against the wishes of your family and society so that I could attend that party.  You allowed yourself to become an outcast simply so I could see what an ice sculpture looked like.  I thought perhaps people talked about us, but when you said nothing, I assumed it was my imagination, now I find out, all these months later, that your beautiful act of kindness, cost you more than I could have known. “Now I find out your sisters have condemned you, struck out against you, berated and humiliated you, and you never once complained, never told me of your pain.  I wish you had come to me, if not about the Will, then at least for comfort.”  He paused, “But I guess you have.  All those nights when you came and curled into my lap for no apparent reason, when you acted so out of character and blamed it on ‘lingering sadness,’ now I understand.  Your sisters, and the rest of the world, I’m so sorry Quatre, sorry I didn’t realized what they were doing to you.” “It’s not your fault, Trowa.  I’ve become pretty good at ignoring what people say about me, it comes with the territory.” “Perhaps, but you should never have to hide such things from me.”  He ran his fingers through his lovers’ hair, brushing the blond strands from his face.  “This child,” he felt Quatre stiffen in his arms and cursed his ineloquence, “He or she must be your biological child?”  He felt Quatre nod, “I,” he paused, collecting his thoughts, “I would not be opposed to a child of your body, Quatre.  If you are doing this out of some sense that I will be angered by you conceiving with another, you shouldn’t, I would, and do understand.” “No Trowa, it isn’t that, though I will admit I was worried.  I don’t feel right about sleeping with another, be them man or woman.  You are the one I love, you’re all I need.  I have no complaints and no regrets.”  Quatre raised his hand to Trowa’s face, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, “You are more than I ever could have imagined, and so much more than I deserve.  Everyday you fill me with more joy and hope then I ever dreamed possible.”  Leaning forward, Quatre kissed him.  Trowa felt himself leaning into the kiss, using it to express all the feelings of inadequacy he felt. When they released each other, he pulled Quatre’s head back to his shoulder.  “I have never believed in god, never seen any evidence that there was such a being.  But I thank the stars-dying suns thousands of miles away-every night that you came to me, that we met.  I have never figured out what I did to deserve you, but I…I just need you to know you can come to me, Quatre.  You don’t always have to be the strong one.” He felt Quatre nod against his chest before he spoke, “Thank you, Trowa.  I already knew, I did, I just didn’t see any way you could offer assistance.  But you’re right I should have at least come to you, I’m sorry.  I appreciate your willingness to-well to accept any child I could have, but that’s not what I want to do.  Someday when you and I are ready we can talk about it and make big plans about adoption or what not, maybe even a genetic on your side, a little girl with brown hair and long bangs.”  They both smiled at the idea.  “I just-after all that’s happened, I don’t think I could ever create a child, I never want to even think about a genetic birth.  I know how that can feel for a child…” He trailed off, and Trowa could see the pain reflected in the pale blue of his partners eyes. “When the time comes, we’ll decide.” “Oh Trowa, so many things are going to change.  You should know a few things, like the fact that I’ve set up about twenty different bank accounts all over the Earth and the colonies with credits set aside for you.  I knew long in advance what my father’s Will would say, and I’ve been setting things up for you, for that reason and just in case something happened to me.  I wanted you protected.  I’ve done basically the same for all five of us, so there’s money to be had.  It isn’t the fortune the name ‘Winner’ is legendary for, but you and I will never want for anything.  Still you should know, I won’t have infinite amounts of credits at my disposal-“ “Quatre, I don’t care about the money.  All I care about is you.  Talk to me, tell me how your hurting.” Quatre sighed, defeat in his voice, “I will.  But not now Trowa, it’s still too soon, and I’m so tired now.” Gently, Trowa lifted the now quiet Quatre up, and moved over to the bed they had shared for the last three years.  Carefully he pulled back the covers and placed his lover on the dark blue silk sheets.  Reaching for the buttons on his shirt, he undid them all and after removing it, shifted to his pants.  When every article of clothing was stripped from his body, save his black silk boxers, Trowa removed his own clothing and snuggled in behind him.  Lacing his arms about the smaller boy.  Trowa held him close until he was sure sleep had claimed him.  Then with a heavy heart, Trowa followed suit, allowing sleep to steal over him, but his mind continued to run scenario after scenario of one dead blond woman after another.  No one hurt his Quatre, not even his lovers’ own sisters.  They would pay for what they had done to Quatre; there was no question about it.