He probably didn’t miss me. We were closest to each other than any of the others, but his emotions were always uncertain. He was loyal, no doubt…but loyalty and really caring for someone are completely different things.

“Quatre?” The noodles hanging from Duo’s lips made him look eerily like a catfish. “Wha’s wron’?”

“Hmm? Nothing.”

He swallowed and pointed at my plate. “You’re not eating. And don’t tell me you’re not hungry, you were ravenous when you cooked this.” He frowned thoughtfully. “And don’t say anything about it not tasting right because I think it’s fine. You can cook. It can’t be that.”

I looked at him blankly for a moment, then brought up the bowl closer to me. “All right, I’ll eat. I was thinking.”

Duo smiled evilly, “What about?”

“What our lives are going to be like once we get rid of these things. There won’t be any going back, then.” I stared at my bowl, not really seeing anything. “We won’t have anything left to show what we did except memories.”

Duo blinked, and looked away. “So, that’s what’s been bothering you this trip.”

“What? It isn’t you?”

“Quatre, you know it isn’t. I don’t like worrying about this sort of stuff.” Duo leaned forward. “Look, the war’s been over for a year, right? There’s no need to hang on to all the things that remind the world of war.”

“That’s true.”

Duo looked at me in silence for a long while. I barely noticed until he spoke again voice soft. “You don’t want to loose that.”

I started. “What? Loose what?”

“The things that remind us it all was real.”

I shook my head. “No, Duo, you don’t understand. I’m glad we have peace now. I-”

“I know that, you idiot. But…well, look.” Duo frowned in concentration. “All right. You and I are obviously still pretty close. I end up hanging around Heero all the time still. Wufei…well, we haven’t heard from him in a while, but he was never one to let people get to close to him. Even still, we know about where he is and how to find him. Trowa’s going from place to place.”

“I know that.” I set down my bowl, still full, annoyed.

‘Quatre, hear me out.” Duo wasn’t looking at me anymore. His voice was deadly serious. “The thing here is, with Heero, you, and I, we’re there to remind each other it’s real. We’re proof that everything happened just by existing after it ended. Next time we talk to Wufei, it’s the same thing. But you never know where Trowa is. You have to wait for him to contact you. You can’t see him. If he ever forgets to get in touch, it’s like he never existed.’

I clenched my fists under the table, hoping I sounded more convinced than I felt. “He won’t forget.”

“Memories are fickle things. They’re insubstantial. You can’t know he won’t forget.” Duo finally looked me in the eyes again, no trace of a smile anywhere on his face. “But Quatre, just because you don’t have anything physical to remind you doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. You should know that. Isn’t it part of your philosophy?”

I looked down at my hands, balled up in my lap. I could barely hear my own voice. “I don’t want him to forget. I don’t want him to forget me. I don’t want to forget him.”

Duo smiled, and picked up his bowl again. “You won’t. You’re too nice. You end up caring too much to forget.”

I watched as he started shoveling food into his mouth again. After a moment, I stood. “I’m sorry. I really don’t feel like eating right now.”

Duo’s eyes followed me as he chewed. “Wha’ abou’ your foo’?”

“You can eat it, if you’d like.”

I headed to the storage bay again. I needed to relax…to float away without thinking. There was too much in my head to meditate or just it alone. Music was always a good escape. Duo would be too busy finished off my meal to care if this time I actually played something.

The violin all but vibrated in my hands, singing for the music to be released. I touched the bow to the strings, and felt stillness settle over me as I began tuning. The wood cradled against me, the texture of the metal strings beneath my fingers, the curve of the bow in my hand…it was from another place, another world, another time. Closing my eyes, I let my fingers pick out the melody, just floating, not concentrating, not thinking about anything except what the moment felt like.

The notes that flowed from me were slow, languid, contemplative. Something older, then, familiar, and comforting. Like a dream. Floating away into a dream. Clausen. Rene Clausen. The Scottish poem.

Once I my ear had caught up with my fingers, I put a little more feeling into the piece, allowing myself to concentrate on the details, trying to make the familiar melody just a little better than the last time I’d played it. After a moment, I let myself drift again, and the music changed again. Faster, this time, making me work a little more to keep to the beat.

This time I didn’t draw the piece out. It was too exact for so early on. This time the mood shifted to something less lofty, more down to earth. A fiddle melody, one of my favorites that I’d know for years and never tired of. I identified it almost immediately and let myself indulge in playing through the reel twice before allowing myself to drift again. The music stayed more on the modern side now, improvising in newer styles and with less classical overtones. I stopped listening consciously and let the sounds weave around me, the worried of earlier forgotten.

My violin settled on a song, something much more recent but just as familiar, a melodic minor that added to my feelings of contentment…until I heard the echoes of flute in my mind’s ear and realized what song I was playing.

I stopped, abruptly, and gently set the instrument down. After making sure everything was safely in its place within the case, I lowered the lid and closed the latches. Then I sat, looking at the closed black case, but seeing another time altogether.

Two years. Nearly two years earlier, yet the memory was a clear and real as always. I don’t think any of us knew how soon things were going to come to a boil. Trowa may have. I’ll never know. He didn’t say a word. He only smiled less.

I loved his smile.

“Trowa? Relax. Just have fun with it.”

Trowa looked at me. “I didn’t know you were a teacher, too.”

I wanted to frown, but turned the expression into a smile. “I didn’t know you were that funny, either.”

Trowa’s expression clearly told me how pointless he found that comment. He crossed his arms and looked out the window.

It was one day when we could just spend time doing nothing. I wanted to just spend it with Trowa. He hadn’t objected, but it was growing clear that he would rather be alone.

I wanted to see him smile. He looked so different when he smiled. So…soft. So incredible. Somehow, when he smiled, it was like he was more…himself. Like it was the only time he wasn’t consumed by another identity, or lack thereof.

“We should try and have fun today. You need to relax. You’re tense. I can see it from how you’re holding yourself.”

Trowa raised an eyebrow and continued looking outside.

I frowned, first at him and then at the flute sitting on the table next to him. I sighed, and set my violin against my shoulder. I was already tuned, and I’d managed to get a little out of Trowa before he set off to his brooding. It took only seconds for the string to hum warmly, sending the notes into the air.

After a moment, Trowa looked back. “You played that after that first battle.”

“The day we met?” I smiled, still playing. “Yes, I did. It’s one of my favorite pieces.”

“I thought we improvised.”

“You did. It’s a violin solo, but I like what you added. It filled it out more.”

Trowa shrugged, and listened in silence. After a bit, he picked up the flute. “You remember it that well?”

“Of course. It was a good day. “

He eyed the flute for a moment. “You know, I can’t play and talk at the same time like you are.”

I smiled. “Since when are you much for talking?”

Trowa looked at me and my heart skipped as that slight smile played on his lips for a moment. He brought the flute to his lips and joined in.

Everything about playing with him was perfect, every time. Just being with him felt perfect, too…absolutely right. He complemented me like his accompaniment to my solo. I smiled so much around him sometimes I thought my face would crack and all the happiness would spill out…and he’d smile back at me.

After about six reels, I called out over the music. “Relaxing yet?”

His eyes met mine, making my blood pound in my ears, and the quirk in his eyebrow and at the corner of his lips told me that he was, but not willing to admit it. I smiled inwardly. “My fingers are going to cramp soon. Let’s break after this verse.”

He nodded, and we finished playing to the end. I set down my violin and stretched my fingers. “You remembered what you played pretty well, Trowa.”

He shrugged, and looked away. “It was a good day.”

“I’m glad you remembered.”

“Why?”

“It makes me happy that you remember that day so well, that’s all.”

He crossed his arms again. “You’re always happy, Quatre.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? It’s beautiful outside, we have some free time, and I’m spending it with my best friend.”

Trowa looked over at me, and the strength of his gaze made me slide back in my seat. “And the rest of the time?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I know what I’m fighting for. I have friends here, too. There’s no reason to be sad about what we can’t change. The fact we’re changing what we can is reason enough to be happy.”

We lapsed into silence again. Trowa’s bangs completely obscured one eye. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. I smiled as I watched him. His eyes are so deep. You can get lost in that gaze. He hardly needs to talk. His eyes speak for him.

“Why are you watching me like that?”

I blinked, startled, and his words set in. “Oh…nothing. You look more relaxed now”

“You watch me all the time. I don’t like people watching me. Stop it.”

I wilted. “Sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll stop.”

“That’s what I asked.”

The room was warm from the sunshine filtering in, but where I sat the air was frigid. Trowa was looking at me with that unreadable expression of his. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Watch me.”

“I don’t have a reason.”

“Just because I prefer not to talk about everything doesn’t mean I’m stupid, Quatre.”

His tone stung. I flinched back from it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were.”

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Duo may have teased me about the whole affair, but this was the first sign Trowa had shown of noticing. And I still hadn’t said a word. “You’re my best friend, Trowa. I watch you because I care about you.”

“That’s not why. You’re a bad liar, Quatre”

I looked up, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “No, it is. I care about you, Trowa. I…I really care a great deal.”

Trowa stared back at me for a long moment. It was hard to not lower my eyes. I was blushing. I could feel it. Trowa didn’t seem to notice.

Finally, after a short eternity, he turned back to the window without speaking. I forced the words past the knot of nerves in my throat. “Are…Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What do you want me to say?”

His words weren’t cruel, and his voice no colder than normal. He wasn’t angry…it was as if he hadn’t understood. “Well, usually you’re supposed to respond if-”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

My heart cried out.

Trowa picked up the flute again, and played, softly, wispily. Without another word, I joined him.

As the day ended, as the war ended, as we all parted, he never gave any indication that he ever understood what I had meant.

The black of my violin case seemed to absorb all the light. It’s form blurred before my eyes, became indistinguishable from the rest of the bay as if wiggled out of focus ad grew watery. I let it all wash away with the tears in my eyes. I let them fall.

I slid to my knees and bent over, elbows pressed to the cool metal floor, hands covering my head, face buried in the crook of my arms. I’ll never forget. I can’t ever forget. But if none of it had any meaning to you, why should you remember?

The tears came faster now, hot against my arms. My breath caught against the lump in my throat, choking its way out in a sob. I rocked, slowly, back and forth on my heels, unaware that I was doing so. Oh, Trowa, I don’t want you to forget. I don’t want to just be a dream of yours, I want to be real to you, realer than anything else. You’re my world…I want to be yours. Trowa, Trowa, I don’t want all of us to be a dream…

I heard footsteps behind me. “Hey, Quatre, why’d you stop pl-”

I looked up at Duo standing just a short distance from me, and rubbed at my eyes furiously. He looked startled. “What…”

I sat up, and tried to answer. “I-”

The world blurred again as my voice cracked on the single word…I didn’t see Duo move. I only knew what happened when I felt arms pulling me forwards, found myself against the dark fabric of his shirt. A hand rested on my head. “Quatre, I’m sorry.”

I gave up and let myself weep as we neared our destination and the end of our entire journey.