What the Camera Doesn't See
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Title: What the Camera Doesn't See: Part: VIII
Author: Genji
Disclaimer & Warnings: See Part I
Denotations:
'thoughts'
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Written story
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{Written Words}
"Dialog"
*emphasis* think italics
~*~ Change of scene
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I'm scared today,
Because I don't know
What tomorrow might bring.
~*~
Trowa was grating carrots, cursing the inventor of the grater as he once again scraped his knuckles against the uneven surface. It would've been easier just to wash the orange vegetable, peel it and eat it, but grated, it possessed some sort of sweetness that carrot sticks just never seemed to come close to. He reached for another one, but stopped, feeling an unerring sense that someone was standing within ten feet of him. Warmth seemed to radiate from some spot behind him. He turned to find that his suspicions were true.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed in tight fitting jeans and a tank, giving her an ultimately feminine look, accentuating curves that no boy could ever possess.
"What are you doing-"
"In your apartment?" The girl laughed. "I thought you wouldn't be surprised by this. It is a very simple lock, single tumbler. I've only been picking them for a couple years now, because my sister kept on hanging out in the bathroom for wa-ay to long, and I always hadda brush my teeth before the bus came."
"But that gives you no-"
"Excuse. Yeah, I know. But, hey, I'm a teenager. No one expects much from us. Plus, what's life without the risk?"
She approached, brandishing a rope. "Up for a little fun?"
Trowa felt along the countertop behind him, searching for a weapon. He came up with a paring knife. She laughed, and in one swift motion it clattered onto the floor. The boy took a swing but she blocked it, holding onto the fist.
"I thought you'd be stronger," she remarked disappointedly. The girl released the hand and stood back, the rope hung uselessly to the ground, like some sort of brown demon tail. "Almost not worth my time, but I've never done anything like this before, so you'll have to do."
"I'll have to do?"
She nodded, and grabbed one of his wrists. He shook her off, and made a dash for the phone, only to be brought down by a tackle. His face crushed against the linoleum and he felt the rope wrapping around his lower forearms.
"Why?"
"Do you really take me for one of those loser villains they always have in movies that disclose everything to the hero? I'm not that stupid. A pity they only taught you stage fighting, because otherwise you might be more of a challenge."
"Why?"
"Why does a hunter hunt?"
"For meat and the animal's pelt."
"I should hardly think I'm a cannibal. I hate that you would think I'm that low."
"Sport?"
"Your words, not mine. Now let's go. And if you try to attract attention we'll just have to make this a little more uncomfortable. Understand?" The girl punctuated this statement by yanking him to his feet. Trowa was pushed out the door, down the stairs (the elevator was too risky) and into the parking lot. She put him in the front passenger seat of red Ford pickup and slid in next to him.
For a while they drove in silence, she chose rambling roads out of the city.
"God, I didn't think it would be this way. You don't even know how to fight, and I know the gundams aren't real so there's really no difference between you and Joe Shmoe, save for the fact that when this all ends there will be headlines and scandal and stuff. Maybe this'll teach you to beef up security or what have you.
"I suppose you're thinking if I wanted a challenge why I didn't chose Heero. Frankly, I'm not the kind that enjoys being killed, or having to kill the others, but I probably shouldn't've said that. Of course you're going to make it out alive, if you cooperate. Strange words for a stalker, right? I don't know. Stalking's more about the mind games, and the chase. It's the getting, not the having. I think Zechs said that, didn't he? However, every chase has its end, and I didn't feel like tormenting Quatre anymore."
They were on a country road now, not another sign of civilization for miles around. Trowa looked out the window stonily.
"I suppose he's a good guy and everything, but I don't think he'd stand up to what I had planned, plus he took everything too easily. He didn't seem to suspect anything, and if I hit him hard all of a sudden... Well I'm not one to look forward to any charges involving animal cruelty."
"But what about kidnapping?"
"I can deal with that. What is that? A year or two behind bars before they let me lose again? Frankly, that seems more appealing than having to go through the life that I'm headed into. You can go to college when you're in jail, and you don't hafta deal with the loans. So you give up your freedom for a little while. I'm not as stupid when it comes to computers as I pretend. If anyone knew what I was capable of--well it just wouldn't be any fun. Deception is a funny thing, isn't it?"
"If you say so."
They were parked in a field now, and Trowa could've probably made a run for it if he had wanted to. However the person sitting next to him had captured his interest. She seemed so self-assured, and yet, so confused.
"I mean the entire show is one big lie. You and everyone are in on it. There's nothing special about you, it's all an illusion. I wasn't that sure of it when this whole trip started. I thought you might even be a shadow of whom you played. Of course, I screw up again. You not only create the illusion of your own prowess, but the way you and Quatre interact--it's led people to believe that you two were, well, involved. I want to set the record straight. Are you?"
Trowa stared straight ahead, unwilling to acknowledge the girl's question.
"Well, when we're finished with this, why don't you let the world know for good? I hate not knowing. Stupid, isn't it? But this just pisses me off." She placed a couple of pages on his lap. After a quick perusal, Trowa realized it was the same fic that had turned up in the raspberry bush's pot.
"Yaoi. God, I hate it. Sure, I mean there's nothing wrong with being gay, but why the hell write stuff about it? It doesn't make sense to me. Maybe that's the problem with growing up Catholic.
"Never was truly religious, though. It was a pain in the neck to look all that Bible stuff up, but it was a high, just writing the letters. The possibility of getting caught, it's intoxicating. God, it's enough to make me loopy just thinking about it. Some people are addicted to drugs; I'm an adrenaline junky. Ok, that's not fair. I can go without it, but it's so much damn fun. And this is my last year of security before-" she gestured to the field with a wide sweeping motion, "they kick me out there. I hate it."
"You're scared?"
The girl smiled. "Now why would I go about telling my weaknesses to you? Of course I'm an idiot and I've already revealed all. So much for promising not to be the stupid villain. Yeah, I guess. You've got a steady job. I've been accepted to a school--a good one I'm told--but none of my friends are even going to be remotely close. We're splitting up after knowing each other since forever. I don't want to be faced with the possibilities. It's frightening."
"And, somehow, going to jail would solve this?"
"Uh-huh. You don't get all these choices. There's some sort of structure running through it all, and then, gradually, I'll be able to get used to it. But here I am being just--oh forget it. I'll drop you off by the police station so you can file a report."
She started up the car and they drove back to the city. When they finally stopped outside the station, she pulled out a hunting knife and easily slit the teen's bonds. He got out and turned back.
"What name should I give them?"
"I may be an idiot, but I'm not a moron. I think you'll be able to find that out for yourself. I certainly don't plan on turning myself in. That totally defeats the purpose."
Trowa closed the door and watched the red truck drive away. He wrote down her plate number and walked in.
~*~
"What can I do for you, kid?" the tired looking man behind the counter asked.
Trowa looked up, realizing that the graying clerk was talking to him. "Yes, I'd like to report-" He looked out the window. "Forget it. Intuitions can be wrong."
"Filing a fraudulent police report is a crime, sonny. Better come back when you're sure."
Trowa walked out and thought, 'I think this is a more fitting punishment, girl. The world can't be as frightening as you make it out to be.'
He shook his head and started walking home. There were carrots to be eaten.
~OWARI~
© 2001 by Genji. Please do not remove without permission.
