Elevator Love_Closure part 5b
By Tralla

Contains: Irritability, profanity, and complications.

Trowa, the braid, and I were seated, given menus, and served a round of beer by a waitress. At our table, there's an empty seat waiting for its patron, but that doesn't stop the braid from ordering starters for everyone. The food arrives with the second round of beer and, between attacking the appetizers and drinking, I'm debriefed in an informal way about what had happened after I left the blonde's mansion years before.

From the braid's rambling and Trowa's comments, I have confirmation that they, as well as a handful of others, early on, had adjusted well enough to the blonde's deception, to the discovery of his initial plan to leave an identical stand-in behind to take on his responsibilities while he pursued the lifestyle of a jetsetter. Their acceptance was due to the fact that they'd all had their suspicions that something abnormal was going on. Given their clandestine associations with the blonde --working covertly with his medical tech interests-- paired with his characteristic odd behavior, having him build an android double wasn't shocking. From what I've gathered, the discovery was more of a relief. The development had shown them that not one of them had been ruled by paranoia. I was the only who didn't see any of it coming.

The retrospective analysis of the blonde's scheming is over and now there's consistent muttering from the braid. It's not embittered; it's nervous ranting and it's wearing on its listeners. We've each gone through two beers and most of the food is gone. He can't be disregarded. Across from me, there's speaking that cuts off the yammering from my left.

Trowa deals with the braid's latest rant. "You're complaining about a type of place you'd go to anyway."

"It's not about the scene. It's about coming back to one of my favorite hangouts to have it--" He suddenly squints. "You knew and you didn't tell me."

Trowa repeats himself. "You're complaining about a type of place you'd go to anyway."

The braid lets go a disgusted sigh. "I heard you the first time."

There's a familiar voice from behind me and it's addressing the braid. "I'm not surprised to find you shooting your mouth off."

I see the owner. It's Chang. The quartet is complete.

The braid scoffs. "I'm just warming up to deal with you. Everyone knows you like to bitch and moan until the cows come home. I'm working on my stamina."

Trowa, Chang, and I are silent. We all know who the mouthy bastard of this bunch is.

Chang removes his coat and takes a seat.

And the braid goes against his nature.

There's no talking and, with a third round of beer served, Chang is the only one not drinking. His gaze is focused directly in front of him, on the braid, who cracks after 15 minutes of scrutiny.

"Wufei, you invited us here. Can you at least pretend not to have a bug up your ass?"

Chang glances at Trowa and then me, but he says nothing. I'm fully aware that I wasn't invited, but I don't dwell on it. There's more to watch. The braid shoves a menu Chang's way. It's ignored.

"I didn't come here to eat," responds Chang as he sits back in his chair. His gaze is still on the braid as he says, "You've been avoiding me for three days. Since calling you repeatedly wasn't enough, I realized that only the promise of beer would keep you rooted."

Karma. Like the menu he just snubbed, Chang is ignored…by everyone.

The TV by our table suddenly goes on. We all look at it. There's no sound, but the captions are on.

"More commentary on last night's big game," notes Trowa.

The braid snorts. "I don't need commentary." He jerks a thumb at the television. "If they zero in on a long-haired fan screaming obscenities, that would be--"

"You," comments Trowa.

"Basically."

"How much money did you squander now?" snorts Chang.

The braid looks back at him. "Don't be an asshole. I don't need anymore advance pay."

"I can't trust you to rely on your salary when it never remains in your bank account for longer than a day."

"You're supposed to give out the money, not track it. Stay out of my business."

But the rancor between them doesn't end there. It's still going on as more patrons fill the restaurant. Trowa and I are mute spectators who are losing interest with each of their testy exchanges. After ten minutes of unsuccessfully blocking them out, I'm suddenly addressed by the braid. He's looking at me as he says, "Heero, pretend to be useful and get another round."

There's hired help yet I'm being sent. I take it as an opportunity to leave the inane bickering.

I'm at the bar dealing with the bartender. I told him that I needed four beers for the table in the back left corner and he's giving me lip. I give my own curt response.

"I know there's wait staff."

My tone was enough for him to drop the interference. He's finally accepted that I'm not trying to steal his coworkers' tips. After shuffling around and doing his job at the taps, he hands me a tray with the mugs.

I'm back at the table and it only takes a few moments of standing around to understand why the braid sent me away. He didn't want me around for the next leg of his quarrel with Chang.

"I think it's been fairly obvious that Quatre wanted to piss his father off. He's got me looking out for Jiro while Raberba pretty much runs around causing trouble."

"You don't know how to deal with Yuy's double," responds Chang.

"You think you can do a better job?"

"With your slipshod approach, there's nothing to question."

My gaze moves to Trowa. He's stacking pretzels around his empty glass. It's an oddly juvenile endeavor. Either he's bored, or he's making sure he can't be pulled into this escalating argument. I don't want any involvement and, given the topic, I'll get pulled in. I remove the mugs from the tray, place them on the table, and take my second leave.

But my escape isn't clean.

There is a guy at a table trying to get my attention. Since walking past him isn't enough of a brush-off, he decides to shout my way.

"Hey you! We need another order of buffalo wings--"

One direct look and he shuts up.

Moving around with this tray in hand is drawing too much attention. I opt for loitering at the bar. But, after five minutes of standing, I'm accosted again. This time it's by a woman in a festive getup. She's one of the waitresses.

"Are you new here? You're supposed to wear your uniform at all times. I know it's ugly but--"

I look at the tray. It's causing nothing but trouble. "I don't work here."

"Well, you shouldn't be serving any tables then." She sticks out her hand for the tray. "Let me get that for you."

A reprimand followed by generosity. It's familiar. I relinquish the cause of my recent trouble. She leaves and I decide to head back to the table. After just a few seconds, I realize that I should have stayed with the tray.

I hear the braid's voice before I see him. It almost sounds like a growl as he says, "Fine, since you're such a fucking know-it-all, get up."

I'd arrived at the table to see him accidentally knock a drink out of a passing waitress's hands. He was bolting out of his seat. For a second, it looked as though he was making a grab for Chang.

After apologizing to the waitress, the braid grabs his jacket and leaves. From his cross expression, it seems as though I may be right about the thwarted lunge. I watch him exit. I didn't think of him as the type to cut and run in the middle of a confrontation.

My gaze is back on the remaining occupants of the table. Trowa finally leaves his snack arrangement alone. He places the final pretzel as he says, "Wufei."

Chang's reply is a bark. "What?"

"Get him a cab. He has his car keys with him."

After a moment of quiet agitation, Chang gets up, takes his coat, and leaves. I glance around. Our table has become a spectacle. I'll bring it back to normalcy. My attempt is interrupted.

"There's no reason to sit." Trowa looks my way. "Unless you've enjoyed this place more than you've let on."

I glance at Chang's seat.

"He's not coming back." Trowa rises out of his chair and turns.

He looks around and sights his target. He lifts a hand to signal to our waitress that he wants the bill. There's a nod from her that lets him know that she's just about to do his bidding. During the wait he says, "To clarify the recent commotion: Wufei is offended that Quatre left Duo with more responsibility, namely the job of keeping Jiro from attracting attention that could be to his detriment. It's been an issue since Quatre first left. And, with Duo's return and the current problem with Quatre's father, the contention has gotten particularly unpleasant."

Unpleasant. He means on the verge of homicidal.

The waitress appears with the bill. He pays for the tab he was stiffed with and waits for her to move away before continuing, "Duo has no intention of listening to Wufei's opinions, and Wufei is forgetting that, between the two of them, Duo is better versed in artificial life."

I correct him. "You mean artificial intelligence."

He doesn't give a response.

I've been pounding the pavement with Trowa for 5 minutes and, while I've chosen less cantankerous company, there's a sudden issue that needs to be addressed.

"Where is your car?"

He looks my way. "Two miles from here. I came on foot." He takes in my expression. "Being able to walk will always be a privilege."

From his tone, it isn't just walking that's a privilege. I remember more, our first meeting, seeing a figure in black somersaulting across the expanse of the blonde's gymnasium and then hearing the details of the accident that cost him his leg and livelihood. The blonde gave him back more than the ability to walk. He handed him what was stolen from him, the ability to continue his life exhibiting the years of rigorous training that he has under his belt. The blonde gave him back the ability to move through life as an exceptional gymnast, someone who was Olympic material.

There's an unusual thought: as troublesome and eccentric as the blonde's interests and talents are, something good can come of them. It's an admission that isn't as grudging as it should be, especially given the developments of the past two weeks.

Apparently, my suddenly indulgent attitude is noticeable.

"I suppose, in the past few years, you've become more accustomed to asking questions, Heero."

I give Trowa a side glance. Nothing much has changed on his end. He still has value as an informant, and he's proving it as he states, "There's something about Duo that's bothering you in particular."

"Why did he need advance pay?"

"Savings is sapping his salary."

"Then--"

"He's not keeping it in an account. Therefore, Wufei doesn't know where his money is going and Duo has no intention of telling him."

"What is he doing with the money?"

"He's stockpiling cash. For some reason, he thinks he's going to need it."

"Paranoia."

"Essentially."

My entire frame just went stiff. I was just struck twice on the nose, by drops of water. I glance up at the sky. It's overcast. I'd just realized that. Even after walking for all this time, I'd been oblivious to the inevitable and now it's landing on my face with stinging strikes.

"There's a bus stop not too far from here," states Trowa while leading the way.

Some ten minutes later, it's still raining and we're waiting out the storm under the bus stop. We found cover before the worst of it began. Right now, it's like buckets of cold water are being thrown around.

I'm sitting on the bench, Trowa is standing, and we're both just watching the road. He'd just said something. It sounded like "hydroplaning".

A little more than twenty minutes into road watching, I hear circus music, and it's coming from Trowa's pocket. He looks my way and says nothing as he puts a hand in the noisy pocket. He pulls out his phone, opens it, and brings it to his ear. The traffic grew louder over our interval of idleness. He uses his free hand to cover his exposed ear.

The call takes under a minute and I didn't make out any of his replies. I watch as he closes the phone and turns my way to state, "There's been an accident."

I stand up. It seems as though Chang never caught up to the braid. I wait for confirmation, but I don't get it as he says, "Raberba just called. Quatre and his father are in the hospital."

After staring back at me for what seems like a long, long time, he repeats himself.

It takes a few seconds to realize that…I'd heard him correctly…the first time.

Part 6