Bad Luck Arrives By Three (52/?)
Title: Bad Luck Arrives By Three (52/?)
Fandom: Gundam Wing, Numbers 'verse
Characters/Pairings: Trowa, Midii
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Dark Gangster AU. Midii sees and hears evil, but is rather particular to whom she snitches. And about whom.
A/N: aquatinted.
***
"Not enough risks. Not enough risks." She picked up a broken stick from near her shoes. The piece was about the size of a paperback and wet to the touch. She threw it along the meadow and watched it rising into the deep purples of the night sky. Then it came down. The cicadas didn't even pause to acknowledge the graceless action.
"Gravity. Always gravity."
Midii Une would have thrown both her shoes after the hunk of wood, but they were still relatively new and kept her feet dry.
She glanced back at the silo and wondered if she should try with Odel again. Odin obviously preferred Lucille. But at least he had some sort of feelings she could discern even if they weren't for her. Odel was like talking to a polite wall. She'd gambled on Odin that night, and as it was she'd left herself with no other options for a ride back to the city after the White Fang gathering.
The night felt like rain. Or maybe she just wanted the universe to share her sadness.
"Don't even bother," Midii whispered to the rapidly moving clouds. They crossed over the moon like stretched wool. "You never do anything nice for me. I won't take what you want to give me either."
A few yards farther she saw an abandoned car. The door was unlocked, but it had obviously been stolen as she didn't even know where to begin with the wires dangling and broken under the wheel.
"Damn it!" She pounded on the wheel, but the horn was quite unsatisfactorily broken. She turned to look at the empty backseat. Her hair swung like dry rope against her cheeks. Maybe if she had done something differently with her hair?
She pushed herself between the seats and crawled into the back. Curling her knees and putting her hands under her head, Midii closed her eyes. Eventually, she fell asleep.
***
She hadn't meant to seduce him, she hadn't set out to meet him at all. In fact, she might have slept through the whole encounter except that he'd coughed politely and said, "You should be more careful about where you choose to pass out, Goldilocks."
Frankly, besides the long gaps of panic between her heartbeats, Midii didn't have time to be properly frightened. She sat up part way, reaching out with her arms as if to measure the space around her. The car. She'd fallen asleep in it. The first noticeable difference was that the engine was running.
"Can I have a ride into town?" she asked. Her throat prickled as if it were overly moist in some places and dry in others. Had she been sleeping with her mouth open?
"I'll just turn on my meter," he said, twisting around in the seat to shift gears.
He was joking, she realized. Rubbing at her eyes, she had missed her chance to get a good look at the guy. He was older than she was. His brown hair stuck to his skin as if he'd been caught in the damp. Looking out the window, she observed the rolling morning fog. Metal was shining in his ear, looped around. His hands on the wheel had long fingers.
From the way he dressed, he wasn't high class. And that he was driving a stolen car suggested he wasn't very reputable either. Quite like herself, if she were being honest. Midii didn't care about thinking on that too long, so she said snottily, "Is the radio broken or do you just like listening to the windshield wipers?"
He turned his head not to look at her, but she saw enough of his face to wonder again who she'd gotten mixed up with. He was pretty. He said, "It's broken."
"Right." She leaned back, crossing her arms, and stared as far as she could into the distance. Traffic was picking up as they got closer to the ramps into the loop and the heart of the city itself.
He took the expressway and the tires kicked up water spraying loudly enough to cover the sound of her own breathing at least. Then he followed an exchange and got back on the main road again only going the opposite direction.
"What are you doing?" She wanted to push the back of the seat. What an awful day, week, life.
"Which one is your exit?" he asked simply. "Or I could go around again if you'd prefer."
Funny, Midii hesitated. What had she been lecturing herself about the night before? And this felt much like when Sally had offered to keep her safe. He seemed the same. The sort of person to give and give and all she had to do was say...
"I don't have a home."
"Oh."
She waited. Had she been right? Did it work?
He changed lanes and went toward the shops downtown. "Well, in that case."
***
"Wasn't expecting to see you, sir," the host was saying. Midii already felt inadequate, but this place was beyond over-priced and she was under-dressed to sit in their dumpster out back. But it wasn't as if the guy was dressed right either. His jeans were soaked wet along the ends and he was wearing flip-flops. Maybe. She definitely saw naked feet. "But we're always glad to see you, nonetheless. Is it just the two of you?"
The host gave Midii a sideways assessment. But it wasn't what she expected. He didn't look at her as if she were less. He seemed to think she was wrong. She wasn't certain which was worse.
"Yeah, just two. Although, I'd really like to eat upstairs." He was tall once he got out of the car. They'd left it in a tow zone. Probably on purpose.
"Of course, follow Danielle."
Danielle was beautiful. Shining, straight black hair. A large smile that looked right on her face. "We've got some good catch today, Mr. Barton, if you're interested in fish for breakfast, again."
Mr. Barton held the railing as they climbed the polished wooden stairs. "I'm not a fish person, really. But I'm sure it's nice."
Danielle paused, holding the door open. She didn't look at Midii. "My mistake, I was almost certain that... well, I must have been wrong."
"Do you come here a lot?" Midii asked after being led to an elegant table by a large glass wall. Part of the window bent out and a pleasant breeze blew inside with the aroma of flowers. She could see the garden over Mr. Barton's shoulders if she leaned in her chair.
He fixed his napkin and glanced at her almost bashfully. Or maybe he was just a quiet person, Midii considered.
"No music here." She glanced around the empty room, empty tables, empty seats. In the corner was a small stage, also empty. She hummed a few notes. She didn't sing well, but she wasn't absolutely tone deaf. She'd heard tone deaf on the streets and thrown trash at it.
"Stop." Mr. Barton had his lean fingers pressed into his temples.
She quit and then he apologized. "Headache, but... it's gone. I should introduce myself. I'm Trowa Barton."
"Midii Une." She was proud of her smile and her still hands. She could be weak when she needed to be and helpless more often than she cared to admit. But when faced down by a mountain lion, she kept her calm facade. Three out of any of the Numbers, she had to run into Three. She fixed her napkin in her lap. How the hell had she not recognized his name when the host said it earlier?
He seemed to want to say something. Perhaps it was the obvious family name that she shared with Eleven. Oh, Midii knew about Eleven. She'd started keeping track of the Numbers like collectors cards--always eager to learn something new. She couldn't anticipate when that information might be useful. And White Fang had been oh so interested in the information that Sally had given to her. But she could only ration it out for so long. Maybe she could feed the same information to another source and stretch it out longer.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked. He didn't seem very Three. She wondered if he had an alternate self. Rumors were that all the Numbers were mentally broken. But he didn't seem broken as much as emotionless. Or bottled up. She'd heard his humor, but not yet seen him change his expression.
"You seem very sad," Midii said, trying to be tactful and learn something, but covering it with nervous compassion. He was buying her breakfast afterall. "Have you lost someone?"
"No, I've always been alone."
***
Fate had to intervene. They'd let the restaurant door close behind them and it was the city again. It either brought people closer together or they'd say, "Nice meeting you." and disappear into the crowds. Midii rubbed her nose and shifted her weight. The leggings under her skirt were starting to itch. She wasn't certain she smelled good anymore, although she had made an effort the day before.
Nearby a man walked with an obvious shuffle sliding one of his legs without picking up his foot. A woman sat on an upside-down bucket and was polishing a harmonica. She reached behind her for a plastic cup and set it down as if expecting payment for her performance.
"Still no place to go?" Three asked her. They hadn't said much during the meal. She'd wrestled over getting something expensive or trying to appear modest. She'd nearly ordered three eggs. Three. But determined he might see that as an acknowledgment of something more. She didn't want to be more than a street girl who fell asleep in cars.
"Hadn't thought much about it." Midii looked up at him. No temper came from his posture, just an overwhelming sense of caution. "Maybe I'll stay and listen to the music."
"Sure." He didn't even bother to shrug. The indifference in his voice was just as flat.
"You alone, boy?" The harmonica player spotted them.
Trowa put his hands in his pockets and walked closer. "No, this is my friend." He opened his palm and pointed his fingers at Midii as if he were offering her for services. She'd seen the street pimp movement before. But she didn't think he meant it the same way. Was he checking to see how she reacted?
"Usually you have that reluctant dancing partner of yours, but it sure did draw a lot of attention that one day. More money for me," the woman howled. She was missing several teeth. Midii wondered if that effected her musicianship.
"Cathy?" Trowa murmured, as if puzzled. But the harmonica began to shrill until something like a melody surfaced from the breathy notes.
Midii's spirit caught on the high energy and she, very cautiously yet strategically, gripped Trowa's hand that wasn't pressing into his forehead. "Dance with me?" she offered, pulling slightly. Something about the music felt like a wild dance and she wanted a partner. He was pretty and if he was Three (he had to be Three) then he could be wild.
He did spin her, almost mechanically as if he'd been wound up and let go. Midii let the dizziness snatch away her vision until he caught her in his grip again. His eyes peered at her, as if he wasn't able to see her face or if he couldn't see her. But then he pushed her away just as quickly. Midii spun outward lifting her hands and laughing. The music picked up, but instead of continuing, Trowa walked past her and said, "Come along."
Maybe it had been the knowledge that she could never draw out Odin. Knowing that he'd been screwing Lucille had left her feeling foolish when she wanted to feel something very different.
She didn't know what Trowa's excuse was. Maybe Three didn't need a reason. He did make her feel good though. She didn't get to see anything of his apartment before she had her back on his bed.
"Do you live here?" she asked, but he didn't answer. They were too preoccupied for words. When she tried to touch his scars, he pinned her arms down. Everything after that was basic. Basic and emotionless. But the pieces fit.
Later, she thought about cutting his hair. He had so much of a forelock that it had tickled her face when he put his mouth on hers. But while he was sleeping--and what a stupid idea that was if Midii had any inclination to hurt his person--his sleeping face moved with the emotions of his dreams. He rolled over once to find her body and wrapped himself half over her murmuring into her neck with small puffs of warm breath.
She put one arm over her head on the pillow and, although captured under his weight, she could glance around the room, curious about what things he had and what things were. But the bedroom didn't tell her anything. Through the door she saw the corner of a table piled high with papers. Those might be interesting, she thought.
Her stomach rumbled. Was it afternoon? She wanted to wash and maybe Trowa would buy her another meal. Or let her stay. Midii started to wonder what that would look like. What angle got her a ticket in this place? Three wasn't that bad, but did she want to get associated with a Number?
She hummed wondering what it sounded like from where Trowa had his ear pressed against her chest. He reached up and flicked a finger against her forehead, "Nicole," he said. "Stop it."
Who's Nicole? Midii put her free hand over her eyes. Three was just like the rest of them.
***
When she got out of the shower, Midii had part of her answer when she saw that he'd set some of his clean clothes next to her mildew infested outfit from the night before. She fished out her bra, but decided his button down shirt was large enough to be as decent as she felt like being if they weren't going out.
He hadn't gone to get food though, as Midii sorted through her disappointment when she found him sitting in the front room. He only had one chair and he'd put away the papers from the large, slanted table.
She smiled at him when he noticed her.
"So what's your deal with White Fang?" he asked.
"You were there too," she replied, knowing that everything that was said just then would be important later. Then she looked down at her toes. "This guy told me about them. He was sort of into it, but apparently not into me as much as I thought. He was a nice guy, or so I thought."
"Have we met before?" he interrupted.
"It's a big city," she laughed. He didn't join her and the lack of reaction led her to think things were going quite wrong. Had she misjudged the situation that badly? "Hey, listen, I can go." She managed a shaky quality in her laugh. "This sort of thing happens and it don't mean anything more than what it was."
His impassive face was the worst for the way he didn't seem to blink when he appraised her. She almost thought he might hit her, but the atmosphere wasn't violence. It just wasn't anything.
But even as she thought that, she watched his shoulders relax and his breathing become more regular. "Midii, I just... I have a hard time. You're a very nice girl."
She knew what came next. His clothes had been a miscalculation. "I can change."
"No, that's not it. I was wondering if you might..." he paused as if uncertain what he was going to say. But that was alright.
Because Midii knew the next part.
Gravity always brought her down. Low to the surface was where her ears could hear the murmurings of the street. And Three was one of the back alley gods who needed people around him. Which suited her just fine. He couldn't guard those papers forever.
Fandom: Gundam Wing, Numbers 'verse
Characters/Pairings: Trowa, Midii
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Dark Gangster AU. Midii sees and hears evil, but is rather particular to whom she snitches. And about whom.
A/N: aquatinted.
***
"Not enough risks. Not enough risks." She picked up a broken stick from near her shoes. The piece was about the size of a paperback and wet to the touch. She threw it along the meadow and watched it rising into the deep purples of the night sky. Then it came down. The cicadas didn't even pause to acknowledge the graceless action.
"Gravity. Always gravity."
Midii Une would have thrown both her shoes after the hunk of wood, but they were still relatively new and kept her feet dry.
She glanced back at the silo and wondered if she should try with Odel again. Odin obviously preferred Lucille. But at least he had some sort of feelings she could discern even if they weren't for her. Odel was like talking to a polite wall. She'd gambled on Odin that night, and as it was she'd left herself with no other options for a ride back to the city after the White Fang gathering.
The night felt like rain. Or maybe she just wanted the universe to share her sadness.
"Don't even bother," Midii whispered to the rapidly moving clouds. They crossed over the moon like stretched wool. "You never do anything nice for me. I won't take what you want to give me either."
A few yards farther she saw an abandoned car. The door was unlocked, but it had obviously been stolen as she didn't even know where to begin with the wires dangling and broken under the wheel.
"Damn it!" She pounded on the wheel, but the horn was quite unsatisfactorily broken. She turned to look at the empty backseat. Her hair swung like dry rope against her cheeks. Maybe if she had done something differently with her hair?
She pushed herself between the seats and crawled into the back. Curling her knees and putting her hands under her head, Midii closed her eyes. Eventually, she fell asleep.
***
She hadn't meant to seduce him, she hadn't set out to meet him at all. In fact, she might have slept through the whole encounter except that he'd coughed politely and said, "You should be more careful about where you choose to pass out, Goldilocks."
Frankly, besides the long gaps of panic between her heartbeats, Midii didn't have time to be properly frightened. She sat up part way, reaching out with her arms as if to measure the space around her. The car. She'd fallen asleep in it. The first noticeable difference was that the engine was running.
"Can I have a ride into town?" she asked. Her throat prickled as if it were overly moist in some places and dry in others. Had she been sleeping with her mouth open?
"I'll just turn on my meter," he said, twisting around in the seat to shift gears.
He was joking, she realized. Rubbing at her eyes, she had missed her chance to get a good look at the guy. He was older than she was. His brown hair stuck to his skin as if he'd been caught in the damp. Looking out the window, she observed the rolling morning fog. Metal was shining in his ear, looped around. His hands on the wheel had long fingers.
From the way he dressed, he wasn't high class. And that he was driving a stolen car suggested he wasn't very reputable either. Quite like herself, if she were being honest. Midii didn't care about thinking on that too long, so she said snottily, "Is the radio broken or do you just like listening to the windshield wipers?"
He turned his head not to look at her, but she saw enough of his face to wonder again who she'd gotten mixed up with. He was pretty. He said, "It's broken."
"Right." She leaned back, crossing her arms, and stared as far as she could into the distance. Traffic was picking up as they got closer to the ramps into the loop and the heart of the city itself.
He took the expressway and the tires kicked up water spraying loudly enough to cover the sound of her own breathing at least. Then he followed an exchange and got back on the main road again only going the opposite direction.
"What are you doing?" She wanted to push the back of the seat. What an awful day, week, life.
"Which one is your exit?" he asked simply. "Or I could go around again if you'd prefer."
Funny, Midii hesitated. What had she been lecturing herself about the night before? And this felt much like when Sally had offered to keep her safe. He seemed the same. The sort of person to give and give and all she had to do was say...
"I don't have a home."
"Oh."
She waited. Had she been right? Did it work?
He changed lanes and went toward the shops downtown. "Well, in that case."
***
"Wasn't expecting to see you, sir," the host was saying. Midii already felt inadequate, but this place was beyond over-priced and she was under-dressed to sit in their dumpster out back. But it wasn't as if the guy was dressed right either. His jeans were soaked wet along the ends and he was wearing flip-flops. Maybe. She definitely saw naked feet. "But we're always glad to see you, nonetheless. Is it just the two of you?"
The host gave Midii a sideways assessment. But it wasn't what she expected. He didn't look at her as if she were less. He seemed to think she was wrong. She wasn't certain which was worse.
"Yeah, just two. Although, I'd really like to eat upstairs." He was tall once he got out of the car. They'd left it in a tow zone. Probably on purpose.
"Of course, follow Danielle."
Danielle was beautiful. Shining, straight black hair. A large smile that looked right on her face. "We've got some good catch today, Mr. Barton, if you're interested in fish for breakfast, again."
Mr. Barton held the railing as they climbed the polished wooden stairs. "I'm not a fish person, really. But I'm sure it's nice."
Danielle paused, holding the door open. She didn't look at Midii. "My mistake, I was almost certain that... well, I must have been wrong."
"Do you come here a lot?" Midii asked after being led to an elegant table by a large glass wall. Part of the window bent out and a pleasant breeze blew inside with the aroma of flowers. She could see the garden over Mr. Barton's shoulders if she leaned in her chair.
He fixed his napkin and glanced at her almost bashfully. Or maybe he was just a quiet person, Midii considered.
"No music here." She glanced around the empty room, empty tables, empty seats. In the corner was a small stage, also empty. She hummed a few notes. She didn't sing well, but she wasn't absolutely tone deaf. She'd heard tone deaf on the streets and thrown trash at it.
"Stop." Mr. Barton had his lean fingers pressed into his temples.
She quit and then he apologized. "Headache, but... it's gone. I should introduce myself. I'm Trowa Barton."
"Midii Une." She was proud of her smile and her still hands. She could be weak when she needed to be and helpless more often than she cared to admit. But when faced down by a mountain lion, she kept her calm facade. Three out of any of the Numbers, she had to run into Three. She fixed her napkin in her lap. How the hell had she not recognized his name when the host said it earlier?
He seemed to want to say something. Perhaps it was the obvious family name that she shared with Eleven. Oh, Midii knew about Eleven. She'd started keeping track of the Numbers like collectors cards--always eager to learn something new. She couldn't anticipate when that information might be useful. And White Fang had been oh so interested in the information that Sally had given to her. But she could only ration it out for so long. Maybe she could feed the same information to another source and stretch it out longer.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked. He didn't seem very Three. She wondered if he had an alternate self. Rumors were that all the Numbers were mentally broken. But he didn't seem broken as much as emotionless. Or bottled up. She'd heard his humor, but not yet seen him change his expression.
"You seem very sad," Midii said, trying to be tactful and learn something, but covering it with nervous compassion. He was buying her breakfast afterall. "Have you lost someone?"
"No, I've always been alone."
***
Fate had to intervene. They'd let the restaurant door close behind them and it was the city again. It either brought people closer together or they'd say, "Nice meeting you." and disappear into the crowds. Midii rubbed her nose and shifted her weight. The leggings under her skirt were starting to itch. She wasn't certain she smelled good anymore, although she had made an effort the day before.
Nearby a man walked with an obvious shuffle sliding one of his legs without picking up his foot. A woman sat on an upside-down bucket and was polishing a harmonica. She reached behind her for a plastic cup and set it down as if expecting payment for her performance.
"Still no place to go?" Three asked her. They hadn't said much during the meal. She'd wrestled over getting something expensive or trying to appear modest. She'd nearly ordered three eggs. Three. But determined he might see that as an acknowledgment of something more. She didn't want to be more than a street girl who fell asleep in cars.
"Hadn't thought much about it." Midii looked up at him. No temper came from his posture, just an overwhelming sense of caution. "Maybe I'll stay and listen to the music."
"Sure." He didn't even bother to shrug. The indifference in his voice was just as flat.
"You alone, boy?" The harmonica player spotted them.
Trowa put his hands in his pockets and walked closer. "No, this is my friend." He opened his palm and pointed his fingers at Midii as if he were offering her for services. She'd seen the street pimp movement before. But she didn't think he meant it the same way. Was he checking to see how she reacted?
"Usually you have that reluctant dancing partner of yours, but it sure did draw a lot of attention that one day. More money for me," the woman howled. She was missing several teeth. Midii wondered if that effected her musicianship.
"Cathy?" Trowa murmured, as if puzzled. But the harmonica began to shrill until something like a melody surfaced from the breathy notes.
Midii's spirit caught on the high energy and she, very cautiously yet strategically, gripped Trowa's hand that wasn't pressing into his forehead. "Dance with me?" she offered, pulling slightly. Something about the music felt like a wild dance and she wanted a partner. He was pretty and if he was Three (he had to be Three) then he could be wild.
He did spin her, almost mechanically as if he'd been wound up and let go. Midii let the dizziness snatch away her vision until he caught her in his grip again. His eyes peered at her, as if he wasn't able to see her face or if he couldn't see her. But then he pushed her away just as quickly. Midii spun outward lifting her hands and laughing. The music picked up, but instead of continuing, Trowa walked past her and said, "Come along."
Maybe it had been the knowledge that she could never draw out Odin. Knowing that he'd been screwing Lucille had left her feeling foolish when she wanted to feel something very different.
She didn't know what Trowa's excuse was. Maybe Three didn't need a reason. He did make her feel good though. She didn't get to see anything of his apartment before she had her back on his bed.
"Do you live here?" she asked, but he didn't answer. They were too preoccupied for words. When she tried to touch his scars, he pinned her arms down. Everything after that was basic. Basic and emotionless. But the pieces fit.
Later, she thought about cutting his hair. He had so much of a forelock that it had tickled her face when he put his mouth on hers. But while he was sleeping--and what a stupid idea that was if Midii had any inclination to hurt his person--his sleeping face moved with the emotions of his dreams. He rolled over once to find her body and wrapped himself half over her murmuring into her neck with small puffs of warm breath.
She put one arm over her head on the pillow and, although captured under his weight, she could glance around the room, curious about what things he had and what things were. But the bedroom didn't tell her anything. Through the door she saw the corner of a table piled high with papers. Those might be interesting, she thought.
Her stomach rumbled. Was it afternoon? She wanted to wash and maybe Trowa would buy her another meal. Or let her stay. Midii started to wonder what that would look like. What angle got her a ticket in this place? Three wasn't that bad, but did she want to get associated with a Number?
She hummed wondering what it sounded like from where Trowa had his ear pressed against her chest. He reached up and flicked a finger against her forehead, "Nicole," he said. "Stop it."
Who's Nicole? Midii put her free hand over her eyes. Three was just like the rest of them.
***
When she got out of the shower, Midii had part of her answer when she saw that he'd set some of his clean clothes next to her mildew infested outfit from the night before. She fished out her bra, but decided his button down shirt was large enough to be as decent as she felt like being if they weren't going out.
He hadn't gone to get food though, as Midii sorted through her disappointment when she found him sitting in the front room. He only had one chair and he'd put away the papers from the large, slanted table.
She smiled at him when he noticed her.
"So what's your deal with White Fang?" he asked.
"You were there too," she replied, knowing that everything that was said just then would be important later. Then she looked down at her toes. "This guy told me about them. He was sort of into it, but apparently not into me as much as I thought. He was a nice guy, or so I thought."
"Have we met before?" he interrupted.
"It's a big city," she laughed. He didn't join her and the lack of reaction led her to think things were going quite wrong. Had she misjudged the situation that badly? "Hey, listen, I can go." She managed a shaky quality in her laugh. "This sort of thing happens and it don't mean anything more than what it was."
His impassive face was the worst for the way he didn't seem to blink when he appraised her. She almost thought he might hit her, but the atmosphere wasn't violence. It just wasn't anything.
But even as she thought that, she watched his shoulders relax and his breathing become more regular. "Midii, I just... I have a hard time. You're a very nice girl."
She knew what came next. His clothes had been a miscalculation. "I can change."
"No, that's not it. I was wondering if you might..." he paused as if uncertain what he was going to say. But that was alright.
Because Midii knew the next part.
Gravity always brought her down. Low to the surface was where her ears could hear the murmurings of the street. And Three was one of the back alley gods who needed people around him. Which suited her just fine. He couldn't guard those papers forever.