Elevator Love_Closure part 2a: Jiro's
POV
By Tralla
It's been five months of busywork employed as Raberba's assistant and it's busywork that I'm currently occupied with. I have a stack of copies pressed to my chest as I pass through my office to get to his. I'm at the door and I place my free hand on the knob and twist it.
I've only opened the door by a crack. I stopped at the sound of talking coming from the other side. There are two male voices. One is Raberba's. The other I can't identify, but it belongs to someone with influence. I know this because of what Raberba is saying. I lean closer to the door and peer through the small opening. I can see a sliver of him as he speaks.
"You will not find a single employee who is unhappy with me." He pauses. "I see no conflict."
The second voice responds with an authoritative edge, "There's nothing that will move me to accept you. I expect a resignation."
"And I expect consistency," replies Raberba. "You acknowledged me when you took great lengths to hide me. Why protect what you don't accept?" He walks out of my line of vision as he says, "Birth documents, proof of citizenship, an academic history... I'm fully aware that Quatre left plenty of loose ends."
He's getting mouthy. I don't know who he's speaking to, but he has to be stopped.
I push the door open. It swings away to reveal my presence. I drop the papers. The sheets disperse over the carpet with a whoosh. There. That should function as a distraction.
I begin picking up the scattered stack.
I hear the same authoritative voice from before. I look up.
I see the man responsible as he says, "It's fine. We'll take care of the papers. I'm sure there's something else that needs your attention."
In terms of height, he trumps Raberba by a few inches. He's over 40, but his stature makes it difficult to quantify his age with precision. I'm interrupted from further scrutiny by Raberba. He's addressing me. "Uncle is wrong. You're needed here."
I get the cue. The man in question is Quatre's father. I look back at the mess before me. I pick up the papers at a leisurely pace. I stand up and walk them over to Raberba.
Mr. Winner has been tracking me, sizing me up. As soon the papers exchange hands, he says, "This is a private conversation--"
Raberba interrupts him. "He knows everything you know and more."
Great. I should have left him to sink. Now, I'm the focus of attention. Mr. Winner is on the move. He's approaching me as he asks, "Are you his caretaker?"
Briefly, I glance at Raberba. "Caretaker?"
"Are you here to watch him?"
I think about the past 2 years in Raberba's company and then the additional five months of close companionship before I have a response. "I'm not good at it."
Mr. Winner is peering at me, intently. He offers his hand. "We've met before."
I glance at Raberba. He's not giving me anything to go on.
I take the hand in front of me. But Mr. Winner doesn't shake my hand. He claps his other one over mine, keeping me in his grasp. Finally, after 22 seconds of scrutiny, he smiles. It's a slow exposure of strong, white teeth. "Clumsiness with paper," he murmurs. He nods appreciatively. "It took some time, but I remember you, Heero. I don't believe I was ever told your last name."
Raberba comments, "You must have met Heero over 4 ½ years ago, at Quatre's estate. He was an assistant there for more than three months, during the time frame of one of your visits."
He's actually been useful by filling me in. I no longer mind his stool pigeon ways.
Mr. Winner still has my hand in his grasp as he says, "I would like to speak with you in private. Come with me."
He's taking me to the roof. We're in an elevator and, on the way to it, I'd gotten inquiring, accusatory looks from people. It's apparent that they're wondering what kind of brownnosing I'm up to. First I'm Raberba Winner's executive assistant and now I'm fraternizing with-
The elevator doors open and we exit. He'd already informed me that we'd have to walk one more flight. The walk is short and I watch him disarm the safety lock for the door that leads to the roof. It's an alarm that is probably meant to thwart a secret suicide jump. And he just happens to know the code. It's a fact that's with me as the door opens and he heads out. I follow.
We're at the center of the roof when he turns around. I look up at him. I get what he's done. A gust barrels past us. He's isolated me, taken me out of employee mode. There are no ties to the office, coworkers, or administrative duties. I'm on the roof, out of my element, and subject only to him.
He's expressionless but his tone is casual as he says, "I won't ask about Quatre's whereabouts, but I do seek your understanding. I don't approve of my son's experiment." After inspecting me, he steps closer and continues, "I can't have this contraption take everything I've cultivated for him," he claps a hand on my shoulder, "I want to close this chapter as soon as possible."
"Close…"
"I've been lax. Instead of covering for my son, I'll undo all of his mistakes," he releases me, "by eliminating them. I hope I can have your support in this matter. I'll guarantee that you're well taken care of, Heero. Your help will not go unappreciated."
I'm back in Raberba's office. He's sitting at his desk putting the papers I'd dropped in order. It's a task that's now pointless. He looks up as I stalk in. The door closes behind me.
"You're in a hurry," he comments while rising from his seat. "Why?"
"We're in trouble."
"I don't understand."
"Quatre's father is planning to get rid of you."
"I'm aware of that. I have no intention of resigning."
"He wants more than a resignation. His objective is a complete cessation."
"For how long?"
Apparently, I didn't make myself clear. "From his words, you won't simply be shut down."
"It was only a matter of time." We're staring at one another. There's a smile marking him. It's another bad sign in a morning full of unwanted surprises. I don't like the tone he's choosing to use as he says, "I can now serve my purpose."
I don't like anything about today. "What purpose?"
I watch him leave his desk. He's in front of me as he says, "Quatre…the very moment Quatre and I were no longer identical, my purpose changed. It was unspoken. I'm not here to replace him. I'm here to teach his father a lesson: there are repercussions to his overbearing disposition. I'm one of them and I won't stay quiet."
He said he was in a car accident a few years back. Something is still loose.
At least, I have his attention as I say, "Fine. I'll get us out of this."