This is not the first time that I’ve been at the house the blonde shares with my original. But it is the first time that I’m making myself known, that I’m approaching this front door with the intention of going in. I rang the doorbell and now I hear footsteps approaching.

The door opens. I hear my original’s car drive off. He must have been sticking around to watch me until the last possible moment.

The door is fully open. It’s the blonde. He’s in the doorway, looking back at me. He’s standing still and staring, but his lips are moving.

“Heero is with Raberba.”

Without my saying anything, he knows who I am and where my original is. He’s still staring as I say, “They’re both on the island. I’m responsible for their meeting. I guaranteed that he never made his flight.”

“You’re responsible…”

“Yes.” I keep watching him.

His words are curt. “Why are you here?”

This is unexpected. He’s nowhere near as congenial as I was led to believe. “To meet my creator.”

“Duo told you…”

“He’s too surprised by my actions to be responsible. I questioned him.”

“And he answered truthfully.”

“He said there was no point in making a liar out of himself.”

“I should have been clearer with him about what I wanted.”

I’m still on his doorstep. He’s made no move to invite me in.

“Your eyes gave you away,” he comments.

“After Raberba recalled my original, being identical was problematic.”

“And you sought to distinguish yourself.” He smiles. The smile isn’t brief. It’s still there several seconds later as he says, “Hazel suits you.”

“What else suits me?”

The smile is gone. “Raberba was cruel to send you here.”

“I don’t need his prodding to do anything.”

His expression hasn’t changed. He appears leery as he says, “I meant no offense. In the past weeks, I’ve received some intimidating communications from him. It would be naïve to be anything but suspicious.” He finally steps aside. “Please, come in.”

I’m walking behind him. I’m surprised he’s able to turn his back on me, given his level of suspicion just seconds ago. He’s leading me into a living room as he says, “I never thought we’d have an opportunity to meet without an air of deception.”

Given his tone, his earlier unease at my arrival seems to have dissipated. Either that or he’s trying to assure me that he really isn’t, in fact, an asshole.

One question will make his true disposition clear.

I wait until he turns around to face me. He’s smiling and is probably about to say something cordial when I interrupt him. “Why does Raberba remember him?”

He just went rigid. That well-meaning smile of his is gone.

Thirty seconds pass before he’s willing to cough up information. His voice is lower and the quality is hesitant. He’s playing the role of unwilling snitch well. His gaze is on everything but me as he says, “I lied to Heero. I didn’t erase anything. I just made Raberba’s memories unavailable. There was a verbal cue to...” He’s staring at the floor. There’s another period of hesitation on his part before he says, “I couldn’t forget his kindness to Raberba on that night… To touch Raberba as he did…knowing what he was…fearing it and he was still kind.” He looks at me. “How often is Heero openly kind? I’d asked myself that and the answer colored my actions…I thought...that if Heero preferred him, ever decided to seek him out…the least I could do....was to give them back their past...”

He’s rambling sap and not giving me a straight answer.

“What was the cue?”

“Something unnatural for Heero, something only desperation would push him to utter.” He’s inspecting me. “Only his voice could have…_you_ said those three words to Raberba?”

“He requested them.”

He no longer looks uneasy. Apparently, I hit a nerve. He’s frowning. “If he had to ask, it means you were withholding comfort.”

“Comfort?”

He’s staring without a reply. He’s ignoring my question.

After a while, he says, “I need you to remove your shirt.”

I don’t question him. From his current cross demeanor, it would simply be a waste of time. I unbutton the shirt and remove it. He takes it from me and places it over the back of a chair.

He’s standing in front of me, just a foot away. His approach was slow and furtive in such a way that it didn’t trigger the proximity intolerance I usually have. I shouldn’t be surprised. He made me. He knows how to navigate around me.

He’s speaking. “I’m going to touch you lightly, just enough for you to notice. After I’m done, tell me if the pattern is in any way familiar.”

He lifts his hands with his fingers extended. They’re moving over me. He’s true to his words. I barely notice what he’s doing. It takes remaining still to note the paths his hands are taking. They’re on my shoulders, against my collarbone, moving over my external obliques, brushing against my abdominals… There’s a sequence; his hands are alternating over these places. It’s a pattern that would never occur by happenstance. A 25 second process, a bizarre one.

His gaze is locked on my face as he lowers his hands. “Do you remember this?”

“There’s nothing to remember.”

“Then…Duo didn’t…” He turns away. He walks to the chair and picks up my shirt. He’s holding it out for me. I pause. I don’t need help, but he’s offering it. He’s still in matador stance as I slip the shirt on. He backs off.

I’m buttoning the shirt as he says, “The two of you are still at odds?”

He’s in front of me.

I’m frowning.

“I have my answer.” He’s frowning back at me and trumping me in intensity. “You’re making it difficult for him to help.”

After a minute of being in a standoff, I say, “I’ll come back later, in 4 hours.”

It’s raining, a lot. I had a car that was rented for me parked behind the blonde’s house. I’ve driven back to the hotel I’m staying in and am now paying for some unknown misdeed. Just walking from the hotel parking lot to inside… Just 10 seconds of walking and I’m soaked. The mass of hair that usually stands rakish and defiant is now obscuring my vision. I’m walking up the stairs to the suite. When I make it to the 3rd floor, I finally move the hair aside and, as I do, I realize that there’s someone in the way of my room.

There’s a guy in a suit leaning against my door. I look up to put a face to the lazy pose. Great. It’s that braided lunatic. He found me, again. I go international and I still can’t shake him.

He stands up, with a triumphant expression on his face. Damn him. He never gets the hint. “Stop stalking me.”

Braid boy scoffs, “Don’t start that shit with me again. I’m supposed to look after you, but you have to make everything complicated.” He’s getting all wound up. “I’m only going to ask this once and we both know how I play hardball.”

I know all right. The next time he has to fiddle with my insides he’ll make me pay. The bastard.

He’s watching me carefully as he asks, “What are you doing on this island?”

“I came to question Quatre Winner.”

He looks surprised but doesn’t say anything. He’s not shooting his mouth off. Something isn’t right. Finally, after a lull, he gives into his natural tendencies. He’s not looking at me as he says, “You’re not like Raberba.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He looks back. “I don’t know what you’re really up to…” He sighs. “But, if you’re trying to get Quatre’s attention, you’ve got to think outside the box. And, by box, I mean the knucklehead you’re built to act like.”

When I don’t give him a response, he makes a long-winded noise of disgust. “I’ll deal with you later. I’m going to see if I can finagle my way into getting a room in this place.” He pulls at his clothing. “Well, with this getup…and, if I watch my mouth, I should be able to. Looking desperate, yet respectable, goes a long way.”

“Wait.”

He looks at me.

I take a step forward. “You’re not leaving with those clothes.”

In exchange for the braid’s getup I allowed him to stay in my suite’s outer room. He has a couch to sleep on. That should keep him docile. Or so I thought. He can’t stay quiet. I know this because, now, apparently he’s acting as a doorman. After knocking, he’d opened my bedroom door and popped his head in. Now, he’s jabbering irritably.

“You’ve got a guest,” he mutters while looking pissy. “I’m assuming this is how you got here. Which means your delinquent partner is somewhere on this island as well.”

I don’t reply.

“Fine, be an asshole. See if I care.” He’s still muttering as he leaves.

My “guest” can only be one person. Catalonia.

I hear her voice before I see her. Her words have a rhythmical drawl as she says, “I never questioned your motives for wanting to come here. But, with Raberba busy, now I’m without entertainment and therefore curious.” She walks in. “You’re both very secretive. Having me take you here without giving me a clear reason why…separate hotels…and separate agendas, correct? The two of you are being mischievous, aren’t you?”

She’s fully in the room. The door closes behind her. She’s carrying a shopping bag and looking self-satisfied. She’s another person I can’t shake. With Raberba’s memories of my original came memories of her. I don’t know of what, but they’re troublesome. They caused him to seek her out and be a stool pigeon. And now she knows a great deal about what she shouldn’t know anything.

“Jiro, what a scowl. You’re a work of art, aren’t you? The very spitting image of Heero’s petulance.”

“Don’t compare me to him.”

“Brusque...I won’t say anymore about the matter.”

She’s walking around me. When she’s in front of me again, she murmurs, “Then Maxwell has surmised correctly. You’re meeting our dear Quatre for more than a question-and-answer session.”

I follow her gaze and her hand. They’re on the clothes I’d just put on.

She raises a forked eyebrow. “Whose clothing is this?”

“It’s not your concern.”

“Don’t snarl. It isn’t becoming.” She’s stroking one of the shirt sleeves. “Designer and an excellent choice, but I have something that will make you stand out, something to go with those stunning hazel eyes of yours. Let’s make a statement with mauve.”

She takes her hand back and reaches into the bag and pulls out a wrapped box. She sticks it right under my nose.

“Open it.” She frowns at my immobility. “If it were my intention to blow you up, I’d do it from a distance and with more flare.” She tsks and begins to unwrap the package. Before long, the bag, the wrapping, and the box have been discarded on the bed. The item is in her hands. It’s a tie.

“A woman’s intuition can be quite frightful,” she remarks while approaching. “I saw this and immediately thought of you, without knowing of your sudden Casanova-esque endeavors.”

She places the tie around my neck.

I watch her. She’s arranging the tie and shirt without saying a word.

I break the silence. “Why are you doing this?”

A noise of surprise escapes her. “Are you referring to my general behavior since our first meeting? Or simply post tie purchase?”

“Both.”

“Nosy, aren’t we? Well, as to my general behavior, I am not in the least put off by what Raberba is. His words were lovely and his manner was direct as he laid out the history we shared without my knowing.” The corners of her lips lift as she remarks, “He’s shrewd, doesn’t fully grasp the concept of right and wrong, and I’m enraptured. You are his counterpart and, therefore, also in my good graces. As to my current comportment…” She’s silent for a number of seconds. Her hands are still moving, fixing my collar and smoothing over the tie. “I accept that I am no longer Quatre Winner’s paramour. But of his current flame I am not entirely forgiving. The wound is still there, red and throbbing. Any man…who likens my face to a car wreck deserves a difficult time.” She straightens the tie and looks up. “I will ensure that Heero is left far behind, coughing up your dust.”

Part 2b