The Endless Sea
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine but the story.
Author's Notes: Well, part seven was longer than I thought it would be. Part eight takes a turn for the better. Enjoy.
He looked up at the stars. He picked out two of them, a part of Cassiopeia. Blue, like her eyes. He berated himself for forgetting her. It was a horrific lapse onhis part, but he was glad he'd remembered before Calypso had gotten too far. He made another mark on the wall. He'd been in this room for several months, with no hope of escape. The only people saw were the guards who came to beat him or feed him alternately. The former was almost less painful than the latter. They preffered to use their belts to beat him, and the food they gave him was coarse; simple bread, covered in mold, stringy meat, dirty water. He must be getting pale from lack of sunlight by now. He leaned against the wall and stared at the sky. At the stars. An endless sea of stars.
She gasped. The pain was almost too much to bear.
"Push!" The doctor coached.
"Don't forget your breathing!" Relena added. "Come on, hee hee hoo hoo--"
"GET THIS DAMN THING OUTTA ME!!!" Dorothy cried, straining all she could. It felt like her insides were being ripped out. "I don't care if it's ten months too early, just GET. IT. OUT. OF. ME!!!" She yelled, squeezing Relena's hand so hard the brunette yelped in pain. Then there was a slight pinch in her arm, the skin puckered, and Dorothy found herself floating away on silver wings, above the clouds, wind in her face...
"Miss Dorothy?" A voice asked. She opened her eyes groggily, looking up into the perfect face in front of her. Blue eyes, pale skin, all framed by golden hair...
"Quatre?!" She asked in disbelief. "No, you're not..." she trailed off as everything came into focus. The male nurse looked confused, then handed Dorothy her baby. "Thank you," she murmered, looking at the tiny thing.
"It's a healthy boy, Miss Dorothy."
"Don't call me that. Only he called me that. Call me Mrs. Catalonia-Winner, please," Dorothy said, examining her little boy's toes and fingers. "The weight?"
"Five pounds, three ounces. He's very light, but that comes with being a month and a half early."
"Yes, of course," she murmered. "Leave us, please."
"Excuse me?" He looked taken aback and she glanced at his name tag.
"Well, Frederick, I asked you to leave so I could nurse my baby in peace, please," she finished, turning away from him. He, looking properly abashed, left, his rubber-soled nurse shoes making no sound on the tile floor.
He started. Calypso stood outside his cell, looking at him through the window in the door. The window opened with a shrill scream. He turned to look at her. The woman was shocked at how terrible he looked; no longer pale, but sallow, his skin having taken on a decidedly greenish tint. His eyes appeared sunken in his much-skinnier face, and his dirty hair hung limply. He walked gracefully over to where she stood.
"I am going to find a way out of here. I have to get home to Dorothy."
Calypso stood a moment. "You really love her, don't you?" She asked slowly.
"Yes, of course," Quatre said, vaguely puzzled.
Calypso turned and stalked off.
She looked up at the night sky. So many stars. Like a sea. An endless sea of stars. And somewhere, she was sure now, Quatre was out there. Across that endless sea. She was going to find him, as soon as their son was old enough to travel. She wouldn't split their family up any further. She refused to believe he was dead; space would have yeilded his body already if he was, of that she was certain.
"So what are you going to name him?" Relena asked.
"I was thinking Terrence. But, it's too recent...I want something with an older tinge to it," Dorothy continued. She leaned close to the small creature. "How about Tobias? Do you like that? Tobias Catalonia Winner," she said calmly to Relena. The brunette couldn't get over how much better her friend looked. She seemed to fairly glow now that the child was born. She turned back to look at the stars, and suddenly everything clicked in Relena's mind.
"He's not coming back, you know," she said softly.
"You know who."
"Maybe I don't," Dorothy replied, her voice icy.
"He's dead, Dorothy. Dead. Not living, never to return, past. Dead. Deceased. Long gone. Bit the bul--"
"Stop it! Stop it!" Dorothy cried suddenly. "I can't believe that. I can't believe he's gone forever! I love him!" It was the first time Relena had ever heard her friend admit love for anyone, even the small child she held in her arms. She was shocked. "I can't believe that he's dead! If he's dead, then what am I living for...? If he's dead, he'll never see this child...so I can't believe that. I'm going to go. I'm going to find him. If I see his body, it's the only way I'll ever give up hope. I have to believe he's alive. It's what keeps me going," the baby struggled a little, and she looked down at it. "He has blue eyes." She paused, looking back up at the stars. "Blue eyes...same as his father."
"All babies have blue eyes, Dorothy," Relena said, genuinely irritated now.
"No. His will stay blue," the blonde leaned over and kissed her son lightly on the head.
He sat up in the dark. "Who's there?" He called out, looking around. No answer. "Who's there?" He asked again, demanding an answer. His eyes strained, trying to find a figure, when one stepped out. It was Calypso, clad in dark clothing. He heard a jingling and the door swung open. She gestured and he paused. Was this a trap? No, couldn't be. He stepped forward. "What's going on?" He asked her in a low tone as he pulled on the dark jacket she'd given him.
"I'm getting you out of here. You're here for crimes against the state; what, I don't know. But I decided to get you home."
"Why are you helping me?" He asked, curious.
"You love her. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?"
"Thank you," he said, gripping her hand for a moment in the darkness. He could hear a sharp intake of breath, and then she relaxed a little.
"It's alright...I have my price."
"Take me with you."
"Let's go," she said, starting off down the hallway. He followed, feeling week after his months of inprisonment.