---------------
Kyuuketsuki Duo
Episode XVIII
Shinma Micunde
---------------
	"Thanks for all your help, Mr. Khushrenada."  Quatre had been a 
trifle reluctant to approach the math teacher for assistance, but Duo 
was 'otherwise occupied' at the moment.  Now that they knew who and what 
he was, it seemed that Duo didn't have to be particularly graceful about 
hiding his activities from them anymore.  Either that, or, as Quatre 
thought was more likely, he was just minimizing the time they all spent 
together for now, just to give everyone time to get adjusted to the new 
state of things.  Quatre had to admit to himself that perhaps it would 
be strange to be tutored in math by a guardian of the otherworlds.  Not 
that Quatre would have been uncomfortable with it, no, not at all.  But 
it would have been distracting.  And, of course, Wufei still wasn't 
entirely sure where Duo fit into his scheme of things.

	"It's my pleasure, Quatre, Trowa.  That's what I'm here for."  
The teacher nodded pleasantly back at them.

	As Quatre finished up gathering his notes off of the teacher's 
desk, his elbow bumped into the small picture frame sitting near the 
corner.  Trowa's quick fingers caught the silver frame as it teetered 
unsteadily and tried to set it back upright, but the stand was not 
cooperating.

	"Thank you," Mr. Khushrenada said, taking the frame from his 
hands.  "The frame's kind of old," he explained, tweaking the stand so 
that it held firm before placing it reverently back onto his desk.  
Quatre tried to apologize, but the teacher waved the matter away.  
"Don't worry about it, Quatre.  It's my fault, really.  I normally don't 
have this picture out, but today... I guess I was just feeling 
nostalgic."

	"Oh, is today... something special?"

	Mr. Khushrenada smiled softly in remembrance.  "Today was the 
day I met my wife."

	Quatre leaned over a bit and stole a look at the picture.  A 
much younger Mr. Khushrenada was framed there, looking happy and content 
next to a young lady gazing worshipfully into his eyes.  "She's 
beautiful," he commented.

	"Indeed.  I remember seeing her on campus that first time... 
with the sun shining just so, she looked like an angel come down from 
heaven."

	"Campus?  She's not a teacher here, is she?"

	"Not this campus.  I met Ann while we were still in college."

	"Oh, of course," Quatre grinned ruefully.  "I should have known 
just by looking at the photo that you didn't meet in the last few years.  
So you married your college sweetheart?"

	"Something like that, yes.  She was the light of my life, in 
that short time we had with each other."  His fingers brushed fleetingly 
of the surface of the frame, the look in his eyes as if he had lost 
something precious to him.

	Quatre coughed uncomfortably and excused them quietly.  Mr. 
Khushrenada gave them only an absent nod in farewell, his eyes never 
leaving the sweet face captured on film.

                              ************

	Quatre was on his way to school the next morning when suddenly, 
a figure detached itself from the shadows and joined him.  "'Morning, 
Quatre," a cheery voice piped up.

	"Oh!  Duo, don't do that -- good morning -- people don't just 
jump out of shadows like that!  What if someone saw you?"

	Duo leveled a playfully disdainful look at the small blonde out 
of the corner of his eye.  "I know what I'm doing, Q.  Anyway, you can 
just call it training, if you like."

	"Training?  You call trying to scare me, training me?"

	Duo shrugged nonchalantly.  "Hey, you're the one who wanted me 
to teach you.  Besides, don't you think there are probably going to be a 
lot of bad nasties that will try to scare you from now on?"

	Quatre refrained from answering the question.  That wasn't 
precisely something he wanted to dwell on.  "I went to the library 
yesterday.  I thought I might be able to find something on the 
supernatural."

	"You ought to be careful of all that stuff, Quatre.  Most of it 
will probably rot your brain."

	"Ugh, now you sound like my father.  Yes, I found quite a few 
unreliable sources of information, but there were a few things there 
that seemed worthy of some attention, so I took them home to study for a 
bit."

	"Did you have the librarian help you out?"

	Quatre shuddered delicately.  "Ew, do you know how the librarian 
is on that shift?  I swear, I shiver every time she looks at me."  Duo 
raised an eyebrow at the boy's aversion.  "I'm serious!  She's one of 
those librarians that goes around hushing people for making the 
slightest sound, as seriously as if it were a religious duty."

	"Sounds scary," Duo commented.

	"Oh, she is.  She really is.  She looks the part, too....  Only, 
I think she'd actually be pretty normal looking, even nice looking, if 
she just weren't so... scary."

	"She looks the part, too, eh?  I bet she's got glasses perched 
on the end of her nose, and her hair pulled tight back into a strict 
little, mousy-colored bun, right?  And always dresses conservatively, 
right?"

	Quatre blinked.  "Yeah, that's it exactly.  You know, now that I 
think of it, she kind of reminds me of Mario (1)."

	"Are you calling the woman a dog?  That's not very nice," he 
chided.

	"No, that's not what I meant.  Mario was cute, anyway.  Well, 
when he wasn't growling at me."  He made a face.  "But that's what I 
mean.  I mean, that it's like she's always just growling at me for no 
particular reason.  She doesn't even know me, I don't even know her, yet 
there's just something about her that sets me on edge, you know?"

	"Yeah," Duo answered absently.  "Mario was a cute little thing, 
wasn't he?"

	"Not that the new dog isn't even cuter, especially since he 
likes me."  Quatre sighed, the sound almost lost in the gentle breeze.  
"I know it's silly, but I've always felt bad that Mario died.  I mean, I 
know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but be a little guilty.  I 
never liked that dog very much, and I certainly wished he'd stop 
disliking me, but I definitely never wanted him to die."

	"It's not your fault, Quatre," Duo reassured him.

	"I know it's not, but..."

	"Trust me, Quatre.  You didn't kill that dog.  A snow demon 
did."

	Quatre stopped in his tracks.  They were nearly at the school 
gates, but it was still a little early, and there were no other students 
near them.  "A snow demon," he repeated incredulously.  "You want me to 
believe that I wasn't responsible for Mario's death, so you blame a snow 
demon?"

	Duo shrugged again, but kept walking, forcing Quatre to jog a 
few steps to catch up with him again.  "Hey, can you show me the section 
in the library you were looking at yesterday?"

	Quatre blinked at the change in subject, entirely used to Duo's 
flighty habits, but still needing time to recover.  "Umm, yeah, sure.  
After school."

                              ************

	And so after school Quatre, Duo, and Trowa were at the library.  
"I don't know if you'll find anything interesting in here," Quatre was 
whispering to Duo.  "I'm sure you won't learn anything new here.  Maybe 
you can get some laughs, though."

	Duo shrugged dismissively.  "Just keeping track of things, 
Quatre," he replied.

	"Shhh!" Quatre hushed him, his eyes darting around the room, but 
not managing to see too much between the shelves.  "Keep your voice 
down.  She might hear you."

	Duo's face held a tolerant smile, but he lowered his voice.  
"Ah, the uber-librarian, you mean?  Is she on duty right now?"

	Quatre stopped in his tracks on his way through the shelves.  
"Yes," he answered slowly.  When a peculiar light gleamed in Duo's eye, 
his suspicions were confirmed.  "No, Duo, don't you go doing anything--"

	"I just wanna see, that's all, Quatre.  Was that her desk around 
the corner?"  He took off silently without waiting for an answer, 
casually wandering over to a shelf and plucking a book off to examine.  
From beneath the shadow of his bangs, however, his eyes inspected the 
librarian instead of the text.

	Quatre made a tiny sound of exasperation.  He tugged on Trowa's 
sleeve to get him to follow, then made his way to Duo's side, his 
movements not so swift and sure as the others.  "Duo," he murmured 
warningly, trying to look innocent, but going about it a little too 
studiously.  "You're going to attract her attention."

	"I beg to differ," Duo breathed in response, the sound just 
enough to reach his ears.  "If anyone's going to attract attention, it's 
you and your pathetic acting skills."

	He turned his back to the desk and leaned lightly on the 
bookshelf, wincing when it creaked in protest.  Quickly straightening, 
he continued.  "The scary librarian lady can tell--"

	"Ann," Duo interrupted quietly.

	"--huh?"

	"The name tag says 'Ann'."

	"Ann, huh?"  He flipped the name over a few times in his mind, 
wondering what something in his head was trying to tell him.  With a 
blink, he gasped softly and turned sharply to look at the woman, who, 
fortunately, had her head bent over something on her desk.  Someone 
walked up to the desk to ask the lady a question, and she looked up, 
giving Quatre another chance to look at her face, just to make sure.

	He tugged Trowa's sleeve again and pulled him a little farther 
away from the librarian.  "It's her!" he whispered.

	Trowa raised an eyebrow at him.

	"Or at least, doesn't that look like her?"

	Trowa waited expectantly.

	"Ooh," he muttered in frustration at his incomprehension.  "Like 
the lady in the photograph.  Mr. Khushrenada's wife.  He said her name 
was Ann."

	Trowa glanced critically at the librarian, his bangs providing 
him even better cover than Duo's.  "Yes," he judged.

	"Yes," Quatre repeated.  "She does.... But I thought he was 
implying she was dead."

	Duo sauntered up to their side.  "You boys finished here?" he 
asked.

	"Um, yeah...," Quatre responded, looking over his shoulder once 
more at the brunette sitting behind the desk.  "I guess.  Come on.  It's 
over this way."

                              ************

	A knock sounded on his door.  "Come in," Quatre called.

	The door opened, and his father entered.  "A letter arrived for 
you today."

	Quatre smiled, taking the letter.  "I know it must be from one 
of my sisters when it arrives in a lavender envelope."  Mr. Winner 
nodded his agreement and turned to leave when Quatre stopped him.  "Oh, 
Father, could you sign something for me?  Apparently the school needs to 
make sure that parents know their children are going to dissect things 
in bio."  He shuffled through the papers on his desk, looking for the 
form.  On top of the stack was the pamphlet he had picked up from the 
library.  Among the pertinent library information were listed the names 
of the staff members, including the librarians.  Ann was named there, 
and her last name was listed as Khushrenada.

	Under the pamphlet was the phone book.  Figuring that there 
couldn't be that many Khushrenadas in the area, Quatre had looked up Ann 
Khushrenada in the tome and cross-referenced that with his math 
teacher's information, and indeed, they appeared to have the same place 
of residence.  There was little doubt in his mind that the odd librarian 
was Mr. Khushrenada's dear wife, and that they were still together, but 
why had the teacher spoken of her the way he had?

	Distracted, Quatre accidentally let the phone book slip off his 
desk and onto the floor, but at least he found the permission slip.  His 
father came forward to sign it, pulling a pen out of his pocket, as 
Quatre bent over to pick up the fallen book.  When he straightened 
again, he immediately sensed something was wrong.  "What?"

	Mr. Winner wasn't glaring at his son, but at the books that had 
been hidden beneath the directory.  "What are those doing here, Quatre?"  
A fine current of anger could be heard beneath the mild words.

	Quatre didn't need to look at the books to know what his father 
was referring to.  "I got them from the library," he answered calmly.  
He had known that this day would be inevitable.  He could have wished 
for a little more time to prepare himself for this confrontation, but at 
least he already had a general plan.  "I was doing some research work."

	A muscle twitched in his father's jaw.  "Research?  On this... 
this--"

	"Mysticism?" Quatre suggested.  "Spiritualism?  Supernatural?  
Occult?"

	"Quatre--"

	"Mother was a spiritualist, wasn't she, Father?"

	Mr. Winner's growl came crashing to a halt and he seemed to 
freeze.  It was one of the first times Quatre had ever seen his father 
paralyzed so, but he stayed silent, waiting to see how his father would 
react.

	Time finally began moving again.  "Why on earth would you think 
that?" the elder Winner ground out civilly.

	"So am I, Father," Quatre answered softly.  "I have these... 
abilities.  I've always had them, but now they're truly awake, and I 
can't just pretend they don't exist anymore.  They aren't going to just 
go away."

	Another long moment of silence, before his father just nodded as 
he sighed heavily, as if his terrible suspicions had just been 
confirmed, and he sank onto Quatre's bed, a great weariness seeming to 
overtake his posture.  "You're so like her, you know," he said almost 
conversationally.  "She had this ability, and she just couldn't not use 
it...."

	"Why were you trying to keep me from this, Father?" Quatre 
queried gently.  There was not a note of accusation in his voice.

	"She just couldn't not use it...," his father repeated, sadness 
seeping into his expression.  "She saw the need, and she just had to go 
and try to do something about it... even when she was sick and had just 
given birth...."

	Quatre started.  "You mean she...?"

	"She wasn't strong enough, yet.  It was too much for her."

	"So... it really was my fault, wasn't it?" he whispered, 
horrified.  "That she didn't have enough strength to--"

	Mr. Winner cut him off with a sharp shake of head.  "Don't be 
ridiculous," he scolded roughly.  "A man has no power over how he comes 
into this world.  She was just being... herself.  She couldn't not be.  
And you, you are just like her, with your stubbornness."

	"And this is why...?  You thought that if I never knew this, 
that I wouldn't be like her?"

	"I was just trying to protect you!" he snapped, but the moment 
the heated words were out of his mouth, he winced and calmed himself 
down.  "But you really are like her," he sighed, defeated.  "I should 
have known better.  Easier to tell a man not to breathe than it is to 
keep you two from being who you are."

	"But you knew," Quatre ventured a guess.  "When you were 
married, you knew how she was, what she was."

	Mr. Winner sighed deeply once more.  "Yes, I knew.  I knew, and 
I loved her for it."  He lapsed into silence, dwelling on his memories, 
until a small, uncertain voice broke his reverie.

	"And will you still love me?"  Quatre refused to meet his 
father's suddenly upraised eyes as he whispered into the oppressive 
quiet.  "Now that you know?"

	He flinched when he saw his father surge to his feet out of the 
corner of his eye, but the next thing he knew, his father's arms were 
around him, embracing him tentatively.  "You are my son, Quatre," his 
father said, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.  "My son, and 
your mother's son, and there is nothing in the world that would ever 
cause me to stop loving you."

	Quatre lifted his own arms to return the awkward embrace.  He 
hadn't been hugged by his father since he was a small child.  "I'm 
sorry, Father.  I'm sorry for, for needing to do this, for making you 
hurt, for--"

	Mr. Winner released him to look into his eyes.  "Don't 
apologize, Quatre.  This is who you are.  I... I can't say that I 
understand.  That I ever understood.  And I can't say that I approve.  
But if this is what you want to do, what you need to do, then... then I 
won't discourage you from doing what you must."

	Quatre smiled hesitantly at his father.  Was it true his father 
didn't hate him?  That all the years of strictness and stubborness were 
because he loved him and was trying to protect him?  Were these finally 
the words of acceptance that he had always wanted to hear from his 
father?  "Thank you, Father."  If he could be so accepting of his son's 
fate, then perhaps Quatre could be a little more accepting of his 
father's ... love.

                              ************

	"Mr. Khushrenada's been out the last few days, and this sub is 
not helping at all!" Quatre was complaining to Duo during lunch.

	Duo leaned back on his hands, violet eyes scanning the crowd of 
students casually.  "I heard his wife was sick, so he took a few days 
off to take care of her.  Something about a dissociative disorder."

	"Oh, my.  Speaking of his wife, I was so surprised to find out 
that she was Ann the freaky librarian.  I really wanted to see if I 
couldn't find out anything more about them... but I hope she's alright."

	"I wouldn't worry about them, Quatre.  I'm sure she's going to 
get better soon."

	The offhand statement wouldn't have stirred his interest a week 
or two ago.  But now, knowing what he knew about Duo, something about it 
seemed suspicious.  "You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, 
would you, Duo?"

	Duo glanced mildly at him.  "Me?  What could I possibly have to 
do with a high school math teacher and a local librarian?  Are you 
trying to imply that I made her sick?"

	"Of course not."  The cogs in his brain turned, and connections 
were made.  "But are you the one who made her get better?"

	Duo blinked innocently at him.  "Now how would I have done 
something like that?"

	The question made Quatre pause only a moment before he came to a 
leaping conclusion.  "She was possessed, wasn't she?"  He took Duo's 
silence as agreement.  "There was a Shinma making her the way she was, 
and you took care of it, so she's going to go back to the way she was, 
right?"

	Duo whistled a jaunty tune in response.

	"How do you do it, Duo?  I mean, how do you even find them in 
the first place?"

	"You tipped me off."

	"Huh?  Me?"

	"You said she was like Mario," Duo clarified.

	"Yeah.  So?"  His light blue eyes widened as he realized 
something.  "Are you saying that Mario was possessed by a Shinma, too?  
That's ridiculous.  He was just a puppy!"

	"And Deanna was dying."

	"But--"  He made himself stop denying the possibility and 
started to think about it objectively.  It certainly made sense, from a 
certain point of view.  "But then, tell me you didn't kill that poor 
thing!"

	"Of course not, Quatre," Duo answered patiently.  "I told you.  
A snow demon did."

	Quatre blinked.  "A snow demon.  Of course."

-------
(1) Mario, Deanna's dog, from TV 3 -- 'Urusai Akuma'.

let the record reflect, khushrenada is a pain in the ass to type.

_________________________________________
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last modified : 10/31/2001 17:46:10 PST