Author's Note: This fits with chapters twenty-five and twenty-six of Witness.
Diary of a Protected Witness Part 19
Touchy Subjects
Heh--I got so hung up on Yuy's flirting last entry that I never got back around to the subject of why I think Chang's a first-class asshole, did I?
Yeah, well, not only had he been giving me double the attitude since my screwed-up phone call to Hilde--but he managed to mock my sketches and then call me a goddamned child molester.
And don't try to tell me he didn't know what he was saying. That guy never let anything slip past his lips that he didn't weigh, calculate, and deliver with brutal force.
"You--sketch?"
"What if I do? Y'think just 'cause I was a stripper I can't have any hobbies?"
"Of course you can. I just thought they'd include straight lining heroin or molesting little boys."
I fuckin' saw red. Chang had set off a land mine only a few people in my whole life had ever managed to trigger; and the next thing I knew, he was on the floor and I was on top of him, trying to pound his face into paste until Yuy dragged me away.
"Easy there, tiger."
He dumped me on the couch, making sure he stayed between me and his flustered-looking ass of a partner.
"He was joking--"
"It's not a joke!"
Fuck if that wasn't an understatement! After what'd happened to me, I was willing to kill to make sure no other child went through the same thing. If anyone had tried to lay a hand on the kids from the orphanage, I'd've carved their heart out of their chest--and I'd've laughed while I did it.
"Oh God."
Yuy's horrified whisper made me snap out of my anger and realize what I'd just admitted.
Jesus Christ--there was the pity again! I shoved away from both of them as quickly as I could, and took off for my room, angry at Chang for stirring up painful memories, and at myself for letting them in on my deep, dark secret.
I slammed the door hard enough to let them know I wanted to be left alone--for the rest of my fuckin' life--and then I shoved my face deep into my pillow and screamed as loud and long as I could, trying to let out some of the frustration.
Of all the things for Chang to bring up--why'd he have to stumble across that? I mean, if he'd started in on Zechs' murder again, I would've been prepared for it. But out of the goddamned blue, he lit on something he had no idea had ever happened to me.
See why I think he's an ass?
And yeah, I know he had no way of knowing ahead of time. That's the only reason why, when he came to apologize a bit later, I let him. No matter how much our little episode in the living room hurt, he hadn't done it on purpose.
In fact, it might've been the first time he inadvertently hurt me. The other times? Yeah, I think those were very deliberate. His mention of cutting off my braid no doubt stemmed from his noticing I valued it. And the way he flung Zechs' death in my face was cruel and calculated, every fucking time.
I didn't mind the insults, or even the fact that he'd made me dump my weed, when it would've helped calm me down so much during a lot of this ordeal. I could take that kind of shit from him.
And when I watched the proud asshole beg my forgiveness--when I knew he was genuinely horrified by the depth of the pain he'd caused me--well, it gave me hope there was a human being under his harsh and unforgiving exterior.
How could I not meet him halfway?
"I guess maybe I've been called worse before."
"If you have, it was unjust. You are a better person than you want the world to believe."
I was half-tempted to tease the bastard about having a crush on me for a comment like that. And it was as out of the blue as the child molester crack had been. But I let him deliver it and make his exit, if only to give him time to believe what he'd just said.
Of course, he'd no sooner left than I recalled dropping my sketch pad on the floor before tackling him. I decided I'd better retrieve it before he and his partner got a look at the portraits I'd done of them.
When I found it on the window seat, I knew I was too late. If they picked it up off the floor, they must have looked through at least some of the pictures. I honestly didn't mind if they saw my artistic renditions of Trowa and Zechs; but I'd tried to capture the intensity of Heero's eyes on paper, as well as the undeniably aristocratic features of his partner. And I was unaccountably embarrassed that they knew I'd looked that closely at them.
Well, who wouldn't? I mean, I already admitted to having the hots for Yuy. And despite being straight as an arrow, Chang was a fuckin' gorgeous guy. I could've stared at the two of them all day long and never tired of the view.
"Can't help drawing the hot guys," I blurted out, in what I hoped was a casual and teasing tone of voice.
"Maxwell--"
I caught myself halfway up the stairs, realizing Heero was going to try to apologize, too. And I just wasn't up to being handed more pity right then. "Let it go, Yuy."
He offered almost the same thing I'd offered him after his nightmare--someone to talk to; someone who'd listen, and who might even understand a bit. And when I tried to brush him off, he used my own "tough guy" line on me, the snarky bastard.
But then, he threw me a couple of curves.
First he brought up the subject of us having sex at the log cabin; only this time instead of pushing the issue of how I'd forced him into it, he pointed out that I'd only had the gun during the blow job, and after that he'd tossed it aside before fucking me into the floor.
So he was finally admitting he'd been a willing participant. That was new.
He seemed to think it was a pretty big screw-up, though--that it somehow made him less of a cop. I guess he wanted me to stop holding his occupation against him. That was gonna be--hard. I had a really deep-seated hatred of cops, and an inability to trust them as far as I could throw 'em.
But, for him, I thought I could make an exception. Maybe. I'd have to think on that for awhile.
As for the second curve--he told me there was a surprise for dinner. "A good one."
Not that I didn't think he and Chang could cook--but I'd seen them fumbling around the kitchen and it hadn't inspired confidence.
"Yuy--the only good news you could give me would be that Khushrenada confessed, called off his hit men, and then shot himself out of remorse."
Wouldn't that have been nice?
"I'm assuming that hasn't happened."
"I--wish it had," he offered in a wistful, sincere tone that tugged at my heartstrings.
I was tempted to turn around and throw myself into his arms and beg him to just hold me and tell me everything would be okay. But I couldn't have handled a rejection right then. So instead, I continued on my way up the stairs, wanting nothing more than a relaxing, soothing shower and maybe some pills that would knock me out so completely that I might be able to sleep a whole night through.
Sadly, the shower was going to have to suffice, since I didn't even have my piddling little stash of weed any more. Looked like another sleepless night ahead.
OWARI
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