As Minako should have guessed, she did not have the easiest time getting to
sleep that night. She had the rather unnatural problem of being unable to turn
her brain off. She kept either thinking back on that night with Katarina and
Alan or projecting on to how the next day would be with Alan. She imagined the
places they would go and the people they might meet. She imagined catching up
on old times and learning how his family was doing. And then they would track
down Katarina and the three of them would get together for dinner, and Alan
would not be so stingy with the wine.
Every once in awhile, she thought of the painfully blatant tension between
her friends, but that wasn't something she cared to dwell on, for obvious
reasons. She'd left so that they could be happy, after all. She might have
known that she'd been foolish in doing so, but she still didn't want to think
her efforts had been in vain.
Besides, it was likely just a common lovers’ spat. The fight would likely be
resolved quickly, no doubt hurried along by Minako's radiantly healing
presence. That way, the three of them could get together without any of the
awkward silences from last night.
Nevertheless, with all of this on her mind, Minako found that sleep was
evading her. She finally managed to settle down around dawn, but she woke up
five hours later, jumping a bit as if she had been startled by something. She
could pinpoint no noise and remember no dream that could have caused this. She
had nothing to blame her wakefulness on but jet lag, a fact that she found
incredibly irritating.
Minako heaved a great sigh as she threw the covers off her bed, squealing
again when her bare legs were exposed to the chilled air. She all but flew back
over to the air conditioner, smacking it once she'd turned it off again. She
made a mental note to complain about it (and to remember to turn it off when
she came home that night).
She was now undoubtedly destined to be awake for the rest of the day, so it
was with a heavy heart that she turned on her smooth heel and walked into the
adjoining bathroom. Her path was a bit wobbly from the hour and from the mild
hangover, but she made it into the small room without running into any
doorframes, and she decided to consider that an accomplishment. She quickly
turned the tap, not paying any particular attention to the temperature, and
stripped. She drew the curtain back and stepped inside.
Minako let out a loud yelp and threw herself to the back of the shower the
minute the water hit her skin. Naturally, she'd turned the knob too far and had
nearly scalded her flesh off as a result. She carefully reached around the jet
stream (the shower had a surprising amount of water pressure for a hotel) and
turned the dial backwards. Just to make her life difficult, the slightest touch
turned the water from scalding to freezing.
"At least in my apartment, I knew I was going to get a cold shower,
like it or not," Minako muttered, continuing to fiddle with the
temperature until she was satisfied. After all, she wasn't in her apartment
now, and she had no intentions of suffering through a sub par shower.
It took Minako what seemed like an eternity to get the water situation
rectified. In fact, it was probably only about five minutes if that, but
everything seemed to take longer in the mornings. She had just managed to
thoroughly wet her hair (no easy task given its length and volume), when she
heard a knock at the door to her hotel room. The fact that she heard it at all
was a testament to just how loud the person was knocking.
Minako sighed, considering the idea of ignoring it, when the person knocked
again. This time, she could have sworn it was even louder and perhaps a little
panicked. The urgency was enough to make her anxious, and she began to wonder
if perhaps the hotel were on fire or if there was a gas leak or some other
horrible disaster that could possibly result in her death that naturally had
to come about while she was in the shower. Minako made a noise that couldn't
quite decide if it was a groan or a whimper as she popped out of her shower.
She grabbed one of the hotel towels, finding it just about two inches too short
for comfort, just like every other hotel towel. She rolled her eyes and ran out
to see who was at the door.
The person was knocking again, this time hard enough to make her worry about
whether the hinges could stand up to it. She sighed and undid the various
latches, shouting, "I'm coming! I'm coming! Keep your shirt on!" She
paused before opened the door, glancing down at her own lack of attire. She
laughed wryly, turning the knob and flinging the door open. "What is
it?"
She was just as surprised to see Alan as he was to see her.
"Oh, my God!" Minako shouted
instinctively, trying to somehow make the towel stretch to cover those two
inches of her thighs she'd been fretting over. Of course, when she did that, it
almost resulted in her breasts popping out, so she quickly abandoned that
venture and merely held the terrycloth in place.
Alan stared at her for a few moments before remembered that he was a English gentlemen. He then occupied himself by staring at
a variety of things that were not blonde and practically naked. "Good
morning, Minako. You're looking... wet."
"I'm so very, very sorry," Minako apologized, a little
ridiculously. She could see steam rising off of the water droplets on her
shoulders, and she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps her entire body was
blushing from embarrassment. She would not have been surprised.
Alan shook his head, admiring the carpet. "No. No need. It's not your
fault. Exactly."
"It's just you were knocking so loud, I thought maybe... I don't know,
that the building was collapsing or something," Minako confessed, feeling
quite foolish. "I thought it was going to be that German maid."
"Thought you'd give her a thrill?" Alan quipped.
Minako shrugged. "I very much doubt she'd mind." Realizing that
Alan's humor was prolonging her humiliation, she sighed and said, "God, I
am an idiot, and you are not making me feel better about it."
"Well, that wasn't my intent," Alan admitted. "Though
you really can't blame yourself. I mean, this sort of thing just happens
to you. I'm not entirely sure that you could avoid it if you tried."
"I should at least try. So, someday, I will learn to check the
peephole before I open the door," Minako vowed, hoping that Ami's
assurances that one could not die from embarrassment were, in fact, true.
"And miss this fun?" Alan joked. "Why ever would you do such
a thing?"
Minako glared at him, though it was really rather pointless. He couldn't see
her after all. "It might be fun for you, but I, for one, am
mortified."
"I didn't see anything," Alan assured her. After a moment, he
chuckled a bit and added, "Though not for lack of trying, I must
admit."
In that moment, Minako realized that Ami had been very far off the mark.
"I'm going to die," Minako declared. "I am going to die soaking
wet in a towel in front of my best friend's husband, and when my soul realizes
what happened, it is going to die, and my entire existence will be negated.
Surely that is what's happening."
Alan continued to try and suppress the fact that he found the entire
situation incredibly amusing. "Oh, come on. You have to find this at least
marginally funny."
"No," Minako insisted. "No, I don't." She narrowed her
eyes, tempted to reach out and poke him, but also afraid to move either one of
her hands. She wasn't sure how secure the towel was after all. "What were
you doing knocking so loud, anyway? I thought you were aiming to break it
down!"
Alan shrugged sheepishly, still looking in every direction but hers. "I
thought you might be asleep."
Minako blinked, trying to process the complete nonsense Alan was telling
her. "So... You came over to wake me up? A deed that could have meant the
loss of a limb had I been sleeping and dreaming of spending a wild night with Gackt?"
It was Alan's turn to be dumbfounded. He was so surprised that he actually
looked at her, and then promptly began studying the hotel ceiling. "Who?"
Minako shook her head. "You British know nothing of good music."
"Oh, yeah. The Beatles were complete
hacks," Alan drawled.
Minako decided that it was best to ignore Alan when he started talking like
that, and she once again changed the subject. "What are you doing here so
early, anyway? You know that I don't get up before noon by choice unless my mother sets me on fire or
something equally horrible."
Alan didn't immediately indicate any intention to respond, so she almost
repeated her question. Before she could get the first two syllables out, Alan
shrugged again. "I had insomnia, so I went ahead and came over. I would
have called, but you didn't give us the phone number."
"Of course," Minako said miserably, bending her neck so that her
head was hanging low. "Amazing. A few digits
could have saved me from this humiliation."
"I would pat you on the head, but I'm afraid of what would happen if I
missed," Alan said nervously. "Anyway, I thought that as since I
couldn't sleep, I'd annoy you until you woke up and then we'd get started on
that sight-seeing."
Minako nodded. "Right. The
tourism." She sighed, slowing backing into the room. "Why
don't you just... let me finish, and then we'll get going?"
Alan returned her nod, following her inside. "Sounds like a plan."
As soon as Alan was three steps inside the hotel room, Minako turned around
and ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, and locking it
for good measure. Then she whipped the towel off and buried her face in it,
emitting a wordless scream.
Alan was right that these sorts of things always happened to her. But he'd
never been on the receiving end of them before. If she had known how much worse
it would be with him, she would have had a good luck charm tattooed on her
forehead to repel her misfortune.
Minako snorted as she stepped back into the shower. "As
if that would have done any good."
-----
A few hours later, Minako found herself wandering around a museum. And not just any museum. The largest and possibly most
boring museum ever built in any country in any time. The Louvre. Its one saving grace was the occasional
statues and paintings of naked men, though Alan never let her look at those for
very long.
Minako pouted as Alan once again dragged her away from a particularly
chiseled specimen. "You are the meanest tour guide ever," she
observed.
"You've been saying that ever since you got here," Alan chided.
"No, I've been saying it since you told me we were coming here,"
Minako corrected. "Honestly, why did you have to bring me to a museum
first thing?"
"I am trying to expand your horizons," Alan informed her.
"Educate you."
Minako made a face that normally would have looked quite unpleasant, but she
had practiced it in the mirror when she was twelve and trained herself to still
look adorable when she would have otherwise looked revolting. Her mother called
her vain and Rei called her frivolous, but she felt it had been time well
spent. "You and Ami are always trying to force knowledge upon me. I think
it's shameful! School is over! There is no need to thrust these intellectual
insights upon me anymore. I'm done. Through with it.
I’ve laundered my clothes of it."
It took Alan a moment to figure out that she had meant to say that she had
washed her hands of it, so he did not immediately respond. "I fail to see
what's wrong with learning something. You're in a foreign country. The very act
of coming here was a learning experience."
"Yes, but I wasn't aware of it at the time," Minako countered.
"Besides, there are so many other things to do in Paris.
There's romance! Excitement! Men who are not dead and only living on through
the magic of art! Men who will check me out while I am checking them out! Men who dress well but are most definitely not gay!"
Alan glanced down at her, smiling wryly. "And you don't think my
presence will hinder them at all?"
Minako winked and wagged a finger at him. "Not if I call you mon frère."
"Curses," Alan muttered. "Foiled
again."
"Naturellement," Minako chirped.
"But back to my earlier point. Museums are boring. And by taking me to a
museum, you are a meanie. Ergo, you are a meanie in a museum that is quickly boring me beyond the
point of human comprehension."
Alan sighed, holding out his hands to the hundreds of paintings lining the
walls around them. He even did a spin for dramatic effect, a move that made her
swell with pride. He only could have picked that up from her, after all.
"How can you find all of this boring? Hundreds of years ago, men managed
to capture beauty on canvas. They pursued it relentlessly and they captured it,
preserving it for the rest of eternity for all generations after them to
appreciate." He gestured to her, looking a little befuddled by her.
"You of all people should be able to appreciate that."
If Alan had been available for her to flirt with, Minako would have said
something about being more impressed by the beauty of what he had said than the
pictures that surrounded her. And though she would have been telling the truth
if she said that, it was not the sort of thing one told a married man that one
used to have a very large and embarrassing crush on. So instead, she glanced
around, looking as disinterested as ever. "It's pretty," Minako
admitted. "But still boring."
She paused, having found another picture of a man who seemed to regard his
portrait as clothing optional. "With certain exceptions," she giggled,
stopping to crane her neck to get a better view. "Hello there."
Alan rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along before she was
completely aware that he was doing so. "You are insatiable. Did you
know?"
"I've been told as much," Minako agreed.
"Allow me to reiterate," Alan said smartly.
"Insatiable!"
Minako pouted and whined, "But the nudity is the only thing keeping me
awake!"
"You are a sensationalist attracted to glitz and glamour who refuses to
acknowledge that anything has value if it isn't neon colored or wearing leather
trousers," Alan accused.
Minako furrowed her brow. "And that is a bad thing because...?"
Alan rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend to be dull. You know I can't stand
it."
"No, really. I don't see your point,"
Minako insisted.
Alan sighed, waving her off. "Never mind."
Minako shrugged and fell back into step beside Alan, skipping a bit just to
make the promenade a bit more interesting. After awhile, she glanced at him
askance and said, "I don't understand why you get all jittery about
nudity."
"I do not get jittery," Alan retorted, sounding a bit fussed.
Minako smirked. "You do so. You get the same look on your face that you
had--" she was obviously about to bring up the incident that morning, but
she had no real interest in doing so. In fact, she had sworn Alan to silence on
the subject while she'd been blow drying her hair, forcing her to repeat her
request several times over before he actually realized what she was asking.
Nevertheless, he had agreed to keep it quiet only for fear that Katarina would
find out.
Alan returned her grin and said, "Same look on my face as when,
Mina?"
She closed her mouth, falling into a sullen silence without bothering to
answer. He laughed at her for a moment, before joining her in the quiet.
The pair wandered around for a bit more, Alan glancing around and soaking up
the culture and Minako glancing down at her watch and wishing the minutes would
pass faster. Suddenly, he came to a halt, holding out his hand to stop her
walk. At first, she was confused, but then she managed to follow his gaze to
the opposite wall. Then she understood completely.
"Ah," Minako said, walking over to the painting in question.
"La Joconde."
"La Gioconda," Alan added,
smiling in a way that made him almost look at peace, very different from the
tense look he had in his eyes around Katarina and the energized one he had
around Minako.
Minako turned to him, frowning. "You just had to trump me with the
original Italian, didn't you?"
"Naturellement," Alan quipped,
tapping her on the nose.
The two turned to look at what was arguably the Louvre's most famous
painting, created by the master Leonardo Da Vinci
sometime in the 16th century. They studied it for a time, allowing themselves
to fall back into their silence. Alan looked at it with the scrutiny of someone
who had contemplated the painting before, while Minako took it all in with the
innocence of someone who had never seen the painting before, even though she
had seen representations of it all her life. And the Mona Lisa smiled back at
them both, and though her paint was faded, no one could deny that she had
retained her beauty over time.
Well, almost no one.
"I don't get it," Minako confessed to the question she knew Alan
would eventually get around to asking.
Alan's shoulders sagged in misery. "What do you mean you don't get
it?"
"I just don't understand what all the excitement is about," Minako
continued, feeling a bit guilty that she was disappointing him. "There's
nothing wrong with it, obviously. For heaven's sake, even I can appreciate that
Da Vinci was one of the greatest painters in history.
But I've never been able to understand why people are so attracted to this
particular painting. It's just a woman." Minako leaned in as far as she
could, squinting her eyes. "And she doesn't have
such a great smile. I bet she's never made any delivery boys drop their
packages with that smile. I did that once. And he walked into a pole
afterwards."
Alan arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure all you did was smile at
him?"
"Meanest. Ever," Minako repeated, glaring.
Alan shook his head, choosing to ignore her. "Anyway, while I'm sure
you have made many men nearly commit vehicular manslaughter with a glance, that
isn't the point of her smile."
"You're going to lecture me, aren't you?" Minako asked crossly.
"You have dragged me to a museum to force education on me, you have
prevented me from appreciating the male form, and now you are going to lecture
me. Alan, there is a reason why I never went to university. You are it."
"The purpose of the smile," Alan pressed forward, "is
unknown. La Joconde is almost always described
as having an enigmatic smile. Her thoughts, her motives, even her identity are
a complete mystery to us. Many men have sat in front of her and tried to puzzle
out what she could have been thinking when Da Vinci
painted her. They have obsessed over it. Perhaps some have been driven to
madness searching for the answer, and I bet not even you could boast
that."
"I'm young yet," Minako countered, though it was quite clear that
he hadn't heard her.
"Every time I come here, I have a different theory," Alan
continued, the intensity of his voice and his convictions grabbing her
attention and holding them where otherwise she would have drifted. He'd always
had that talent. "Sometimes I think she's flirting with me. Other times I
think she's completely naive. Sometimes I think she's plotting something. The
answer to the question changes every time for me, and that's what makes the
pursuit of it so frustrating. No one is ever really certain when they look at La
Joconde. No one can be. She's too mysterious for
us to grasp and too far away to ever be reached."
Minako stared at him, briefly amazed by his passion, which she had feared he
had lost when she first laid eyes on him back at his flat. She clenched her
hands at the memory, quickly willing it away. It still chilled her, even though
a day had passed.
"Why do you keep looking if you can't find the answer?" Minako
asked.
Alan looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Shouldn't all
questions be answered? Isn't that the point of the question to begin
with?"
She felt a little put off by his query, but it didn't stop her from turning
back to the painting and studying it again for a moment. Eventually, she shook
her head and said, "I don't see the question. I just see a fact. She's
smiling. Does it really matter why?"
Alan laughed, flabbergasted. "Of course it does."
"You see, I don't think so," Minako said, pursing her lips.
"I don't think I really want to know why she's smiling. It's her secret
isn't it? Why not let her keep it?" She could feel Alan looking at her,
and it made her slightly self-conscious where it would have otherwise been
appreciated. Nevertheless, she did have the presence of mind to add,
"Besides, I've seen what secrets can do. I've seen empires fall because of
secret affairs and wars begun over secret passions. And all
because someone could not handle the truth when the secret was revealed.
What might happen if we learn the truth behind her enigmatic smile?"
Minako quickly cut herself off as she realized she was drifting off into
fantasy. After all, there was a difference between the fall of the Silver
Millennium and a mere painting. It had been foolish of her to project her life
onto it, and she realized that her behavior had been foolish since she arrived.
She stood in silence for a moment, but this was the same as it was with any
other person. She was tense as her mind ran away with her, threatening to make
her implode with her own rashness. In that moment, Alan was just like everyone
else. Another person judging her for being impetuous.
"I'm sorry," Minako said quietly after she had finished, unable to
stand the clearly critical silence any longer.
Alan turned to her, blinking rapidly. "Sorry? For
what?"
Minako sighed, rocking back on to her heels. "I know that this was
important to you, and I just had to keep whining about everything. I didn't
mean to be a brat about it. I was just joking, but I think I might have taken
it too far."
Alan stared at her for a moment, once again befuddled by her words. He
blinked again, a wry smile spreading on to his lips. He shut his eyes and took
a deep breath, saying, "You didn't disappoint me, Mina. And I wasn't thinking
you were a brat at all."
Minako tilted her head to the side, her hair spilling over her bare shoulder
like a waterfall of molten gold. "You weren't?"
He shook his head. "No." He opened his eyes and looked at her
again, suddenly seeming very serious. "I was just thinking of how much
older you seem now. I suppose I never expected you to grow up." He
chuckled. "Silly isn't it? Me assuming you'd be
young forever."
She straightened in surprise, and she felt her cheeks go pink again. She
laughed, perhaps a little too loudly, and said, "But I'm not old enough to
be entertained by a museum. So it isn't that bad."
Alan shrugged. "That has nothing to do with age or maturity when you
get down to it. It's mostly about personality. I suppose I just wanted to show
you something beautiful." He stopped there, perhaps a bit surprised at his
own words. He shook his head a bit and turned back to look at the painting,
studying it again.
Minako found herself staring at him again, unsure of what to make of what he
had said. First he had made her feel so very young, and now he was insisting
that she had matured. She had no idea what to believe, so she merely turned
back to the painting, hoping to stare at it until the smile made her forget
other questions that would likely never be answered.
"I thought you preferred London,"
Minako said finally, after the painting failed to deliver.
"What's that?" he asked.
"I thought you preferred London,"
Minako repeated. "But you've been sitting here defending the Louvre and art and everything cultured about France
like you're a Frenchman. Why are you defensive of Paris
now?"
"I do love London. I miss
it terribly," Alan admitted. Without warning, he turned away from the
famous Da Vinci painting and met her eyes. They were
darker than she remembered them being a few moments before. She felt her heart
flutter in a manner that she thought must have been unhealthy as he held her
gaze with the frightening intensity Alan sometimes had. "But I love
beauty, too."
Minako swallowed the lump in her throat, wondering why he had chosen to look
at her that way when he said that.
-----
Several days passed in a similar manner, and those days quickly turned into
weeks. Alan took her every place imaginable in that span of time. Minako was
certain that she had seen every monument and historical site ever erected in Paris.
Thankfully, Alan had agreed to keep the museums to a minimum, which made Minako
very happy indeed. Unfortunately, the trade off for that was that her partying
was kept to a minimum. Alan refused to leave her alone in a strange city with
her supposed intolerance for alcohol, and Minako hardly felt comfortable
dragging him out at night given the fact that he was married. He kept insisting
that Katarina wouldn't mind, and Minako was beginning to think he wasn't lying
in order to be polite. She found it worrying.
But she tried not to dwell on that and simply enjoy the time she was
spending with Alan. They reminisced a lot over that time, and Minako found it
refreshing to have a conversation with an old friend that wasn't occasionally
peppered by a memory of a battle or something along those lines. Not that she didn't enjoy remembering her time as a Senshi.
The lack of activity was what had driven her to distraction in the first place.
It was still a welcome change, and Minako was eternally grateful to Katarina's
bosses for transferring her to Paris.
Though she wasn't grateful for the workload. In all
the time Minako had been in Paris,
she had only seen Katarina three times, excluding running into her on the first
day. Minako was spending all of her time almost exclusively with Alan. It
wasn't that she minded, but there were occasional moments when she would have
liked for her to have been there. Not to mention the fact that she had missed
Katarina just as much as Alan. She wanted to spend time with her Big Sister
too.
They were currently on a day trip to the Palace
of Versailles, wandering around the
grounds by themselves. They were walking around the Run of the Sun, a large
fountain adorned with statues depicting the story of Apollo. Minako was staring
at the magnificent structure, blinking rapidly to account for the spray that
was blowing into her eyes.
"This is quite different from our old walkabouts," Alan observed
suddenly.
"How is that?" Minako queried, still looking at the fountain.
"You don't trip and fall into my arms anymore," Alan answered.
Minako blinked, turning her head to the side. "Well, of course not. Why
would--"
The gods once again chose that particular moment to remind her that they
enjoyed laughing at her, causing her to trip a little. She yelped and reached
out for Alan instinctively, but he was already reaching out to steady her. Once
he was assured that Minako wasn't going to topple over again, he righted her.
"I suppose it's my own fault for bringing it up," Alan said,
smiling softly.
Minako looked down, pretending to fix her skirt when in fact she was just
hiding her rather self-conscious blush. She just couldn't stop herself from
doing this sort of thing, could she? Alan had been right after all.
"You said it. Not me," Minako chirped once she was sure that any
trace of embarrassment had vanished from her face. "What made you think of
that anyway?"
Alan paused, making Minako would if he was not quite sure how to respond.
Before she could examine that theory, he had shrugged and continued walking, a
little bit slower as if to accommodate for her occasional clumsiness.
"Just letting my mind run away from me I suppose."
Minako raised an eyebrow and continued after him. "And the first thing
you think of is my fake-tripping?"
"In my defense, you did do it a lot," Alan reminded her. "I
always used to wonder how a gymnast could possibly be that unsteady on her
feet."
Minako shrugged noncommittally, not particularly thrilled with the current
line of conversation.
Alan shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing up at the clear sky
thoughtfully. "So, just out of idle curiosity, exactly how massive was
your infatuation with me?”
Minako found herself blushing yet again, wanting nothing more than to drown
herself in the fountain. Too bad she would have likely been arrested if she
had. "Who knows? I was thirteen. Everything was terribly important and
dramatic."
"Well, I suppose it was great enough to fake your death for," Alan
teased.
Minako studied the ground she was walking on with increasing intensity.
"Must you bring that up? I've admitted that I was being ridiculous,
haven't I?"
"Oh, it doesn't mean I can't rub it in every now and again," Alan
joked. "I find it amusing."
Minako shut her eyes, not sure how she felt about Alan finding it amusing.
Still, all she did was laugh, saying, "We all did silly things when we
were young. Mine just happened to be a bit more operatic than most."
Alan chuckled. "Still, I can't say that I wasn't flattered when
Katarina told me. I mean, once I got beyond the shock and the outrage and all
that."
"You were," Minako muttered quietly, wishing that he would take
the hint and find something else to talk about.
"Indeed," Alan agreed. "In a rather odd way, it was like you
died for me. Wouldn't you say?"
Now thoroughly tired of the conversation but unwilling to hurt Alan's
feelings by being nasty about it (as she was so very tempted to do), Minako
decided that the best course of action was to change the subject. "So,
how's Katarina doing?"
Alan's easy nature seemed to vanish faster than Minako could blink. She was
given pause at how his eyes suddenly darkened and his jaw tightened, stretching
the skin on his neck. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, for one thing, I haven't seen her in over a week," Minako
pointed out, laughing a bit in order to hide her nervousness. In truth, it did
little more than draw attention to it, but Alan didn't seem to notice. "I
do want to see her too, you know."
Alan glanced down, and Minako noticed that his hands hand curled to form
fists, his knuckles flushing pale. "Oh. I see." With that, his
natural pace seemed to triple, leaving Minako behind before she knew what was
happening.
She stared after him for a moment, utterly bewildered. She hadn't wanted to
hurt Alan, but he didn't seem to have any qualms about doing it to her. It
seemed that she'd somehow made the situation worse than it was, though she had
no idea why.
Minako quickly jogged to catch up with him, calling out, "Alan! Wait a
minute!" He didn't, for whatever reason, but Minako was the type of person
who could be easily shaken. She laughed again, hoping to somehow improve his
mood, and asked, "What's the matter with you?"
Alan shrugged stiffly. "I don't know. I suppose I just assumed we were
having fun."
"I am," Minako reassured him. "What does that have to do with--"
"Katarina's busy," Alan interrupted somewhat harshly. "I've
told you that."
Minako nodded. "Yes, and I was asking if there's a chance she'll not be
busy any time soon because I would like to see her. Why--"
Once again, Alan refused to let her finish a sentence. "I don't think
so. There's something big happening at work I think."
"Is it dangerous?" Minako asked anxiously.
Alan shook his head sharply. "No. Just some
bureaucratic crap. But she's still busy, so you probably won't be able
to see her until the weekend. If that."
Minako again nodded in understanding, but she was quickly becoming irritated
with Alan's behavior. "Well, you could have just said that, Alan. There's
no need to bite my head off."
Alan stopped suddenly, turning towards her. "I just thought
that..."
Minako lifted both of her eyebrows. "You just thought what?"
He stood in silence for a moment, simply looking at her. Just when Minako
was beginning to become uncomfortable, he sighed and closed his eyes, shaking
his head slowly. "Never mind. I'm sorry, I... don't feel all that well. Would you mind calling
it off early for the day?"
"Oh, no," Minako responded, a little surprised. He'd seemed perfectly
fine a moment ago. She almost questioned him about that, but she decided
against it. She'd seen enough of Versailles,
so there was no point in harping on the subject. "We can leave right now,
if you want."
"I do," Alan said, turning around and walking away from her, back
to the direction of the main building.
Minako stared after him for a moment, her eyes clouded with worry. Alan had
already displayed a tendency to become uneasy when she mentioned Katarina previously, making Minako think that perhaps their
"morning spat" had been one of many. She'd wanted to ask Alan about
it, but she'd always been afraid that he would become brooding and
unresponsive. Now all she'd done was mention the women's name, and Alan had
become unbearable. It was beginning to confirm her worst suspicions, and she
didn't like it one bit. She wanted to know what was going on. She wanted to
help.
"Too bad I have no idea how to accomplish that," Minako murmured
sadly before following him to the exit. Seconds later, Minako was prattling on
about the flowers as if the last conversation hadn't happened at all. It didn't
change the fact that Alan remained sour for the rest of the trip home and that
Minako couldn't quite bring herself to look him in the eye anymore.
-----
Hours later, Minako was back in her hotel room, nursing a tension headache.
The remainder of the trip back to Paris
had thoroughly exhausted her mentally. She had continued to try and engage Alan
in light conversation, but he had been more than content to stare out the window
of the train sullenly. She once joked that if he kept staring at the window
like that, he might break it, but he hadn't even heard her. Eventually, she'd
given up, and spent the rest of the journey sitting on her hands, trying very
hard not to scream at him.
Honestly, she couldn't understand what had set him off like that. She was
beginning to accept the fact that he and Katarina were having problems, but
that was no reason to take it out on her. Even in his worst moods, he had been
careful not to do that. It left her with the idea that perhaps she actually had
done something wrong, and that wasn't a thought that she regarded with any joy.
Minako sighed, lying back on her bed and staring up at the ceiling
reproachfully. She had been trying hard not to rock the boat, and she’d wound
up overturning it. It only made matters worse that she was utterly clueless as
to what it was she had done.
She remembered things like this happening back in London,
though in retrospect, she could actually pinpoint what she had done to put Alan
in his moods. It had been stupid, ditzy comments a thirteen year old was likely
to make and not realize just how stupid or ditzy they were being. He'd only had
so much patience with the occasional disconnect between her mouth and her brain
after all. But she was older now, arguably wiser, and hours of pondering the
altercation hadn't shed any more light on the subject.
She had considered calling Makoto to commiserate on the subject, but she'd
decided against it. A conversation between Minako and any of the girls might
trick her into saying something out loud that she was trying very hard to
ignore. Thinking it was one thing. She couldn't very well control her thoughts.
But once she told anyone else about it, she'd have brought it into existence
and given it more power than it deserved.
And that was precisely why she did not call anyone and let them know that
she was beginning to have feelings for Alan. Again.
Minako had spent a week trying to ignore the possibility before finally
coming up with the idea that there was absolutely nothing wrong with thinking
about it. Thoughts did not constitute betrayal. They didn't even really make
the feelings real. After all, she had never really gotten closure with Alan
after she'd fled London, so it was
only natural that some of the old feelings would arise. All she had to do was
keep from talking about them and eventually they'd go away.
Though again, seeing Katarina more often would really improve things on that
front.
But her theory was the only thing that kept her meetings with Alan from
being a complete awkward mess. Her feelings had not been validated, so
therefore, they had no consequence. He didn't know about them. No one else knew
about them. Only she knew about them, so there was absolutely no reason for
them to have any effect on their conversations whatsoever. There may have been
an occasional uneasy silence or sometimes her blood chose to pool at her cheeks
without her consent, but it was nothing unmanageable.
So, of course Alan had chosen to actually talk about the first time it had
happened and nearly ruined this foolproof plan of hers. Really, she had no
earthly idea what had possessed him to bring that up. It was about as
acceptable as bringing up ex-lovers on first dates. She hadn't even done
anything to prompt the conversation. In all of their nostalgic dialogues, she
had made certain to steer clear about that aspect of the relationship. She knew
that bringing it up would only complicate things and possibly prompt her mouth
to do that disconnect thing and say something horrible.
Before Minako could continue to fret about that afternoon, her phone rang.
She flinched at the noise, but reached over quickly to prevent it from doing so
again. "Hello?"
There was silence on the other end at first, but then Minako thought maybe
she heard the sound of sniffling. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows.
"Hello?" she repeated. "Who is this?"
"Sorry to call you this late, Minako..."
Minako's eyes widened as she recognized the voice. "Alan?" she
asked. "Alan, are you all right? You sound--"
"Drunk and sullen?" Alan finished.
Minako paused. "Well, I wasn't going to be that blunt."
"I probably shouldn't have called you," Alan admitted quietly.
"I just... Katarina isn't going to be home, and I needed to talk to
someone, and..." he trailed off again, and this time Minako was certain
that she heard him sniffling.
"Alan? My God, are you crying?" Minako asked, now getting to her
feet.
"Not so much anymore," Alan muttered.
"I'm coming over," Minako insisted. She heard him start to
protest. "Don't try and talk me out of it. I'll be there in half an
hour." Before she hung up the phone, Minako was sure to add, "And for
heaven's sake, put away the wine."
She heard him mutter something about scotch, but she was certain that she
didn't want to know what it was he was saying. She quickly pulled on her shoes
and her coat, running down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. A
few minutes later, she was in a cab, promising not to pay attention to the
meter if he sped the whole way.
Minako was still quite sure that she couldn't get there fast enough.
Coming Soon - Part Five: La Trahison
