Touched and Bound Part 2
The next day was when things really started getting complicated. My morning routine was the same, waking up completely as my hand reached under the pillow and I managed to curse softly at myself for being an idiot. I almost never curse at myself for my habits; I usually accept them... but not this time. Not with him.
The words that guy had said the day before still stuck in my mind. Somehow he'd known I was lying, and I couldn't quite figure out where he'd noticed it. I couldn't find the flaw in my actions. Not a single one. There wasn't anything I'd done to show him that I wasn't Trowa Barton... or that I was.
I stopped in the middle of pulling on my black pants as that thought hit me. My actions just completely paused for a second, then finished without my real knowledge. I picked up my shirt and headed for my sorry excuse for a kitchen, rather then just slipping it on. I walked out into the middle of the room and slipped on the shirt, my eyes closed and reviewing my day yesterday. I went over everything I'd done while he was there watching.
Opening the shop. Serving the customers. Making sales, accepting money. Cleaning the tables. Restocking. And talking with him.
As I went through all of my actions with a fine-toothed comb I noticed things about him as well, my mind listing them off like I had some sort of check list. I began making logical assumptions about him, due to my small knowledge of seeing him for only a couple hours for two mornings.
He'd worn the same outfit each time, looking causal yet not quite. It was something that could pass as a work outfit, depending on where one worked. His braid was always neat, and it meant that he took care of his hair, for whatever reason and I doubted it was just cleanliness. Those gloves were definitely a peculiarity, especially counting the action I'd seen where he was sitting there with his glove off and he'd looked a bit scared that I'd noticed. And then there was his bluish-purple eyes.
I finished buttoning up my shirt and frowned to myself as I pulled a comb through my hair.
I knew a fair amount about him already from his actions, but none of those things told me how he could have known I was lying. Unless he had some prior information about me and something I'd done had triggered against that. Either way something I had done was the key factor that had tipped him off.
In any case it didn't really matter anymore. He thought I was lying, and if I changed my patterns now he would see that he was right. So, in all actuality, as much as I wanted to know what I'd done wrong, I couldn't risk deviating from my daily habits. Any deviation would be a hint toward guilt, and he might be counting on me giving him another clue to play with.
With that in mind I finished getting ready and moved off to work. I was never late, never. And with this person wandering around, now was not the day to start.
~*~
I've always worked alone mornings. My boss trusts me enough to open the place on my own and set everything up, even if I have only worked there for a little less then a year. I've almost always opened alone, but apparently that day was the exception. Because when I arrived at work, I found the lights halfway on and there was movement inside. Even before I had crossed the street I'd pinpointed my manager and one of my coworkers setting up the tables and supplies like a normal morning.
My eyes scanned the street, and like clockwork I found him standing near the paper machines. His eyes locked with mine and he flashed me a shrug and a confused look, then glanced toward the partially lit doors. I took that to mean that he had no idea what was going on either and was waiting for some kind of signal. For a moment the urge to corner and silence him surfaced again, but I quickly turned away. Now was not the time, I had other things to worry about.
"Morning Tro," Lance greeted me from the counter as I stepped through the door. I'd met Lance only a handful of times, when he came to relieve me and take his shift after mine. He was one of those types who worked around his college classes, always touting in textbooks with him to read when there was a drop in the amount of customers. Poorly cut hair and occasionally forgetting to shave pointed to the fact that he didn't live at home anymore and probably lived on his own or in a dorm a couple of miles away at the local college. A ring on his finger and a gleam in his eye spoke of a girl in his life, or some other relationship that he wasn't afraid to hide, because he never took the ring off.
I gave him a greeting nod, more then I usually accord people, and then my eyes scanned the store for my manager. I wanted to know what was going on, I didn't feel like hearing it from Lance and then again from my manager. While that strategy held certain advantages on occasions, now was not the time, especially with him waiting outside.
"He's in the back, called me in because he said he really wanted to talk to you." Lance said, as he wiped the counter, his eyes glancing from time to time over to a large open textbook on Calculus, trying to look inconspicuous. I gave him another nod and headed for the back, where I found my manager sitting in his makeshift office.
I say makeshift because the furniture in the place consisted of old metal cabinets once used behind the counter for storing pots and pans. Covered with papers and various other office equipment one might have never noticed, save for the scratched silver color that peeked out here and there. His fancy office chair didn't match, and it showed his tendency to splurge on occasion with the company's budget, for things that weren't quite needed or practical. But then, most managers did that from time to time, and it wasn't my place to really care what he wanted to use the money for. Sadly, my main concern was my paycheck, as low as that sounds.
"Sit down, Barton." His voice was always cool, precise and thoughtful. Every time I've ever talked to him he has been a very levelheaded man. However, this time, I could see the lines of stress reaching across his forehead. Slightly hazy eyes, an effect of too little sleep and too much caffeine, watched me quietly as I took a seat in one of the older style chairs we used to use in the main eating area. He watched me quietly as I sat down, his thin hands holding a small stack of papers a tad too tightly, and I returned my emotionless look patiently, waiting for his explanation.
The explanation didn't come in words, but rather in a rush of paper as he tossed the small pile in front of me. He spoke with actions, letting the paper show me just what he had found, and what was so stressful to him this morning.
Staring back at me, from a thin piece of faxed paper, was my own driver's license. A large stamp was placed across the paper, written in angry inked letters. Invalid. Below it was my social security card, bearing the same angry stamp. Both were originally photocopied images, stamped and then sent back through the fax machine. I cautiously kept my face blank as I looked through the various papers, reading over the information, and a slight panic rose inside me. I hadn't counted on this happening.
"Care to explain these?" He asked in a low and cold voice.
I didn't glance up at him. Instead I looked though the papers silently, trying to find where I'd gone wrong. Where had I messed up? The cards, the paper and the information had been nearly flawless. There was no reason this should have come back. I knew the system; I knew how to get around it. I at least remembered that much. So how had this come about so soon?
"Care to explain to me how one of my employees is dead?!" His voice rose, peaking at the word 'dead', as he snatched the papers back from my hands. "You see this?! This all says that Trowa Barton is dead. He's been dead for a year. A whole frigging year! So how the hell have you been in my employment for that year?" He threw the papers back down and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, then his eyes met mine again.
I gave him no explanation. I know he didn't want one. I merely sat there, silent, as I listened to his words and mulled over the papers. I hadn't messed up. They'd been perfect. So something else was at work here... someone else.
"Look, kid. I don't know the whole story and frankly I don't want to know it. I don't want to know where you got the fake ID and I don't want to know why you have it. What I do want, however, is for you to walk in the other room and cut up your time card." He pulled out a check and pushed it toward me, holding my last week's pay. "This is your check. Just take it and go. I don't want to get mixed into whatever you're in. The last thing I need is another set of cops wandering around this place like when that girl died."
I couldn't resist raising an eyebrow at him in question. "You aren't calling the police to see if I'm connected?"
He shook his head. "Nope. You're a good worker, kid, whatever your name may be. Take the check and leave... if you were really important to that case, that nosey cop Chang would have pulled you out a month ago. Just leave now. The last thing I need is for this to come around and bite me in the ass."
I nodded and took the check, leaving my apron and hat sitting on his guest chair. Without another word I left, heading for the door. I didn't have to look up at Lance to see him watching me leave. He was probably happy, now he could get those extra hours he'd been asking for and he could kill off more of his school expenses. If nothing else, he at least had something new to gossip about when one of the other workers came in. No doubt they would spend months guessing at the reasons why I'd just been politely fired.
I can't say I was surprised either to see the braided boy sitting at one of the tables, watching me with a curious look. I didn't even spare him a glance as I walked out the door.
So of course it was no surprise that a second later he was up and following me.
~*~
"Hey! Wait a second! What happened?"
I heard him yelling from behind me, as I rounded the corner, walking silently with my hands in my pockets. I had no intention of stopping; there was no reason. But at the same time I didn't feel like heading home right away, so I turned my walk down the street, away from my home and my previous place of employment. I, for my part, ignored the voice behind me. He wasn't important right now. Rather my mind was working on everything that had just happened, trying to figure out where I'd gone wrong.
I knew the altered version of the ID was perfect. Don't ask me how I knew, but when I was done with it there was almost no way a person could tell that I'd switched a few things around. And there was certainly no way anyone could tell on a photocopied version of the card. So, that only left one option, whoever had stamped that copy knew beforehand without seeing my ID. It also meant they worked at whatever registration office my manager used to check out his employees. Whoever had done this had known beforehand what would happen, and probably knew I had lied with the ID.
My mind flipped through things that had happened in the previous days. I ruled out the police, there was no reason for them to still suspect my place of work. I knew they weren't hanging around it anymore, looking for the murderer of Middi Une. But who did that leave? It left-
"Hey! Jeez, you walk fast."
My thoughts stopped and I instinctively turned to face him, glaring at the fact that he'd attempted to grasp onto my shoulder. He seemed surprised that I'd caught his wrist a fraction of a second before he could touch me. But that surprise faded a second later as he pulled his hand back and blinked at me, his normal annoying grin returning. Why was he following me now?
"You got fired didn't you?" He asked in a serious voice, not joking about it at all. I responded with a shrug, intent on brushing him completely off. I needed to think about this. I needed to figure out what had happened, where I'd gone wrong.
"That's it? A shrug? What, you aren't going to blame me or something? I mean don't you think it's my fault-"
"Did you do it?" I asked him, not willing to let him finish his rambling.
"What? Huh? No! Of course not! But... still!"
Satisfied, I turned away from him and altered my course again. On second thought, home was a better idea right now. I would need a job soon enough, and I would have to make a new ID to get one. I pushed his presence to the back of my mind and just started walking home. The answer to my questions seemed to obviously to point to him, which was exactly why I didn't include him in my figurines. No fool would stick around to taunt me after making me lose my job. Anyway, he had no reason to do that. In fact, it would help him more if I kept my job, so that he could continue to drop in every morning and try to unnerve me into giving him an answer for whatever questions he had. No, I knew it wasn't him.
My home came into view and somehow I wasn't at all surprised to see a small blue sheet of paper attached to the door. I heard him still walking behind me, and his footsteps paused as the blue sheet came into his line of vision. I could hear him give a soft gasp, barely audible. No, this wasn't his fault either.
Frowning, I walked up and tore the paper down, trying the knob, even though I knew it was locked. I'd been evicted, from a place that no one should have known I was living in. I crumbled the paper up and tossed it to the ground, turning away from the door. I didn't like how all of this was adding together, not one bit. Why all now? Things didn't hit in an order like this, not in real life. It wasn't a stroke of bad luck; this was too well planned to be a stroke of bad luck or some silly superstition like that.
I turned and found myself looking into a pair of bluish-purple eyes, narrowed in thought. He gave a sigh.
"Okay, look, I know you know I didn't do this."
"I'm not blaming you." I said, blankly.
"Yeah, I know, but all the same, all this happened only a few days after I show up, so I feel a little responsible you know? Like I caused this or something."
I shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing.
"Ok look! This is getting old. In all honesty I have some questions I need answered, and so do you now. So why don't we step back and try and do this civilly? As in me explaining myself, and you actually talking. I'll even... uhh... treat you to a meal or something because I'm starving." He gave a slightly embarrassed smile as I pondered his offer.
I only thought about it for a few minutes, because in all honesty there wasn't much to think about. And in the end, I realized that I really had nothing better to do. Nothing I needed to do to figure this all out, if I even went to the trouble, was time sensitive, so why not? I finally responded with a nod, indicating that I agreed.
"Great! Because I'm about to fall over." He glanced around the street, obviously getting his bearings on where we were. "How about that fast food place down the road?"
"Lead the way."
~*~
I could feel his eyes on me as I quietly ate my food. We'd ordered our meals and sat down in silence, or rather I had. He, on the other hand, had spent a good ten minutes at the counter, talking with the girl at the cash register. Flirting seemed to be one of his specialties, because the words flowed from his mouth with an ease that would make any searching boy jealous. It wasn't obvious flirting either, but rather the kind that seemed like normal conversation, but still made the girl react. I saw her face turn a slight shade of red, even if it was hidden by her light make-up. A few more words and he left with his tray, reaching the table as I'd finished over half of my sandwich. It was then that I realized he'd done it on purpose. He'd purposely given me time, to see if I would attempt to run while he was busy.
He'd done this before.
I watched out of my peripheral vision as he sat down at the table, and eased into the chair.
"You can stop giving me chances to run. I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes glanced to me as he stopped raising his sandwich, letting his hands hold it in midair a little ways from his mouth. He blinked at me, then his mouth widened into a grin. Then that grin slipped into an impish smirk. "You do know this game, I thought so."
Damn. He was good.
I frowned and ate my sandwich in silence, cursing myself for my mistake. I wasn't usually this careless, but yet I'd managed to mess-up so many times in the last week. What in the world was I doing wrong?
No, wait. This did make sense. I pondered over his words and my supposed mess-ups in the last week and it all seemed to fall in to place. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually had a mental clash like this with someone. The police who'd come to my work place after the girl had died were nothing like this, or if they were it hadn't been pointed at me. This time it was, and there was nothing else to distract him. So now it made perfect sense that I was under more careful watch. I would have to adjust my actions and words accordingly. It would be a challenge.
I glanced up and met his eyes, which had stayed on me the whole time. We watched each other silently for a moment, studying the other's irises. Not a single word.
Then he made the first move. Setting down his sandwich he reached a hand toward me. "First thing's first then, ne? Duo Maxwell."
I glanced down at his hand, noting that he even ate his food with those gloves on. Interesting. Glancing back up to meet his eyes, I gave a nod. He pulled back his hand, not seeming phased.
"So, I guess I owe you a kind of explanation, but I really don't know how to start all this..." He frowned.
I caught it this time. He was waiting for me to give him a place to start. But by me doing so he would gain more information about me. There wasn't anything I could say without tipping him off...
"Who are you?" I asked in a flat voice. I knew full well he'd just told me his name. But it was the only question at the moment that I could ask that wouldn't give him more information. He wanted to learn about me; well then he'd have to deal with telling more about himself.
He smirked at me again, and nodded as if I'd won or passed some kind of test. I frowned at him.
"This is getting old." I stated flatly. Standing up I grasped my tray and moved toward the door, he reached out to grab my arm, but this time stopped as soon as I saw the motion.
"All right, look, I'll stop. Just sit down, ok? We both, obviously, aren't used to cooperating on things like this. But if we're going to get anywhere, we'll need to."
He was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I took a few more steps and set my tray on top of the garbage receptacle, then went back to sit at the table. Sitting back in my chair I looked back at him quietly. After a moment I spoke.
"Trowa Barton."
"But I know that's not really you're name." Duo finished his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, eating a few chips, before he laced his hands behind his head and his eyes wandered to the ceiling. "Or rather, I know you're not who you say you are. See, I know a lot about the real Trowa Barton, including the fact that he's been dead for a little over a year now. Not to mention that he was also engaged at the time before he was killed... to a certain girl named Middi Une."
I couldn't help but respond to that. I blinked at him in surprise as the pieces fell together. "But I could still have the same name. It could be a coincidence."
"Oh, it could. True enough." He munched on a few more chips. "But two Trowa Barton's in the same city? Seems a bit too coincidental. I mean, it's not a really popular name like 'John Smith' or something. In fact, it's significantly more rare then that. I'm almost surprised that the police didn't pick up this connection when they investigated." His eyes moved to look at me. "But then, you did a masterful job of avoiding them on that point didn't you? You're the type who wouldn't give away any information, even if seems like you did. You're very good at that."
I nodded. "So you're a private investigator."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Your tone says you don't even believe that. Care to indulge me on why not? I'm curious to know why you aren't pinning me with the loss of your job and your house."
It was my turn to lean back this time, but I did so a bit more stiffly, as was my nature. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, still watching him closely. "I know you didn't do it."
"How?"
"For one, you're too young to be a private investigator. I would guess by your height and body stance that you're in you're early twenties, at most."
"You would guess correctly."
I nodded and continued. "Far too young to be a PI. As for my job, it all happened together in succession. No fool would stay around to gloat about it, after such an obvious attempt to try my patience. Not to mention, that you've made no threats as of yet, whatsoever, and I don't believe you will. It's not your nature to be threatening. Instead you fake friendship with everyone and get your information that way. Making me lose my employment and place of residence is not the way to gain my trust, which you are so intent on doing."
He watched me quietly, a small amount of shock showing on his face. Then that same grin showed up again. "You seem pretty sure in your assumptions about me."
"Am I wrong?" I could tell he wasn't used to my blunt approaches.
He blinked and stuttered a bit, running a stray hand over his braid. "Well, ahh, no... but..." He blinked again, but this time it seemed to be at himself rather then my words. "Why are you so trusting all of a sudden?"
"I'm not. But we have established that you aren't working with the police and won't turn me in for anything. Even if you did all I would have to do is disappear, which would be quite easy considering that you don't even know my name."
"Can I know you're real name?"
I shook my head. I knew the conversation would turn this way, I'd been expecting it. Oddly, though, I hadn't been expecting my own reaction. In my mind I'd already formulated excuses, ways to step around his answers, fake names, the works. But now that the question was posed straight at me, I did the most unlikely thing.
I told the truth.
"No."
"And there's where the trust stops. Honestly, what could I do with your name? Is there even anything I can call you by?"
"Trowa will have to do."
"Why? Why won't you even give me a name? You know I can't do anything with a first name?"
"Trowa is the only name I know."
And there it was. I saw the realization dawn on his face, like light spreading over a horizon. A simple phrase and the protests stopped, all the pieces literally falling into place in his mind as well. I could see it from the expression on his face. I knew he'd expected an answer, or a side step, or something. What he hadn't expected and what he hadn't prepared for was the truth of the matter.
"I can't give you something I don't have." I said in a lower tone.
"You don't have a name?" He pondered softly out loud. He brought up another chip to his mouth, but didn't eat it. Instead he tapped it lightly on his lower lip as he pondered the recent revelation. We'd both stepped into unfamiliar territory. He didn't know where to proceed from this unexpected point. I didn't know where to proceed because I'd never told anyone before about my personal mystery. We'd both entered new ground, and from here anyone could guess where things could go.
"You're searching for the real Trowa then?"
Duo shook his head. "No, I'm looking for the person who killed him... but it's a bit more complicated then that." His eyes flashed around the room, taking time to look at all the people sitting around us in a sudden act of paranoia. "I'm not blaming you for his death, you don't seem the type. But there are a lot of things I don't understand now..."
His words trailed off as he seemed to nod to himself. Standing up he stretched, and picked up his tray, balancing it on one gloved hand. I watched silently as he walked over and dumped it, then turned back to me.
"Well?"
"Well what?" I countered with a frown.
"Well, come on. I've got some people I'd like you to talk to."
I frowned at him more, my eyes narrowing. Standing up I walked past him, toward the door. "And why would I want to go speak to anyone else?"
"Two reasons. For starters, they can help you find out what your name is."
I glanced back over my shoulder, my voice hard and unamused. "And the other?"
He gave an embarrassed shrug. "Where else are you going to go?"
And there he had a point. I had no where else to go. Granted, I could easily make a place for myself, but it would take work to create a new identity. It would take equipment and connections, all things I didn't have at the moment. I didn't fool myself into thinking that I would be lucky again and just find another ID laying around on a street corner, I knew better than that.
His offer held definite merit and potential. If he was telling the truth, then I could learn about myself. It couldn't hurt to indulge him and myself on this small thing, because I knew I could disappear. Judging by his manner and personality he would let me disappear as well, if I really chose to.
Perhaps it wasn't the best choice in the world, but in the end I agreed. After all, even the best of us have moments of weakness where we move against our better judgment. I suppose this was mine.
"All right."
"Great! Then lets go! I have a feeling you're going to get quite a kick out of this place."
The place, as I would soon learn, which was called Branch 2.
TBC...
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