ax_main | Tessa and Trowa - backdated 3/28

Trowa has the first in a pair of long-overdue conversations.

With the growth of the school's population over the months, the woods had become far less absent attentive eyes and ears, as it had largely been when Tessa first arrived. Nevertheless, despite the increased student traffic through the largely-untouched terrain to the rear of the former Xavier estate, she still found daily patrols through the area strangely therapeutic. True, her time could arguably be put to more productive use online, researching threats to the school and attempting to trace the activities of the elusive Right, but this was important, too. If nothing else, it helped keep her in reasonably efficient physical condition.

The company, too, was a welcome deviation from her typically solitary routine.

Her dark eyes flickered toward her silent companion as they stalked almost noiselessly through the persistent winter. "The mud will make this area particularly inhospitable to normal foot traffic, once the thaw sets in properly," she observed. "Perhaps we should re-evaluate our usual patrol patterns. Aerial reconnaissance would be much more effective, under such conditions."

Trowa kept his gaze straight ahead, determinedly plowing his way forward against... something. "I could keep bribing birds. Or are you suggesting we partner up with one of the flying mutants?"

"The latter was my initial though," she told him. "Though we would be unwise to ignore any asset, no matter how minor it might seem." Tessa paused a beat, then, "If you would forgive the intrusion, your attention seems more that typically divided today. I had thought you found our patrols of the ground as calming as I did."

"There's nothing lacking in the company," Trowa assured her. "Quatre confessed that he has romantic feelings for me. He doesn't want things to change unless I feel the same. And I don't. So... there has been some awkwardness between us."

"I see," Tessa acknowledged, digesting Trowa's revelation--not entirely unexpected, but perhaps somewhat ahead of her projected timeline. "I apologize for my lack of delicacy, but I have little firsthand experience of such questions. Still, there is an unfortunate irony implicit in your description of events: your relationship has changed, despite what either of you might have hoped. If you would prefer, I could attempt to excise the memory, or even simply the associated feelings, from your mind."

The offer was tempting. Things could truly go back to how they had been, with the ease of comradarie between him and Quatre restored. But only on one side.

"Thank you, but no. I don't think Quatre would ever forgive himself if he found out, and the situation would only become more strained." Trowa frowned. "I'm not angry with him. But I don't see why this should be so complicated either. I even offered to try being what he wanted, but it only seemed to upset him more."

"People often make their emotions more complicated than necessity requires them to be," Tessa observed clinically. "Especially when those emotions are attached to another person. Have you defined your own, with regard to Quatre? Is he a comrade? A friend? A confidant? I would suggest his disappointment lies not in your willingness to accommodate him, but the lack of genuine romantic interest motivating the offer."

"I don't know." Trowa's frown deepened. "How am I supposed to know any of this? It's not as if I have any experience with it."

She shrugged. "I am hardly an expert. I suppose it begins with examining your impulses and responses, when interacting with your roommate. Does empathy come more easily? Do you place his happiness ahead of, or at least on a par with, your own? Are you physically aroused by him, or simply mentally stimulated? I do not expect you to be able to answer any of these questions immediately, but they bear consideration. You must define what you wish from your relationship with Quatre, and communicate those expectations effectively. Ambiguity, I think, is much more damaging to a relationship than a clear understanding of one another's expectations."

Trowa clenched his jaw. It always came back to feelings, to letting in unpredictability and loss of control. "I don't expect anything of him. I just want him to be happy."

"His happiness is not your responsibility; you have no control over how he responds to his particular experiences," Tessa observed. "Is it not more pragmatic to allow him to deal with his feelings as he will, and continue on as he himself stipulated he wished, should you be incapable of returning his feelings? Your unease is entirely of your own making. Only you can decide how to resolve it. My advice arises solely from concern for my friend; I would not suggest I possess a certain strategy for securing a positive outcome in this scenario."

"How am I supposed to know if I return his feelings he won't let me try?!" Trowa blinked in surprise at his own outburst, then sagged. "This isn't me," he said quietly. "This... is wrong."

"Not wrong," she argued mildly. "Simply different. Unfamiliar. We are each of us constantly evolving as our circumstances change--no human experience is a static thing." Though sometimes it might be preferable, if it were. Their preferences would not alter the nature of reality, however.

Tessa gestured toward a fallen tree trunk, revealed by the half-melted snow. "Let us sit. I apologize if the topic is not welcome, but I do think talking your way through it with a sympathetic listener will assist you in coming to an acceptable resolution."

Trowa sat. Following orders was something familiar, at least. He hid his face in his hands for a moment, chasing his composure. "I want him to be happy. And he won't even let me try." The repeated words put him no closer to a solution and he sighed. "Neither of us know what I'm feeling. Which is ridiculous. He's an empath. And I'm... I should know if anyone does."

"Emotions can often be ambiguous or ambivalent, particularly when they are strong," she observed. "Perhaps you are having difficulty defining how you feel because you do not feel one thing only, but a variety of contradictory responses. If that is the case, then a degree of confusion is inevitable."

"Maybe." Trowa stared at the ground for a time. "I know what I don't feel. I don't feel... desire. He talked about wanting to kiss me. And it sounded pleasant. I felt good that he wanted to be close to me. But the idea wasn't exciting. Or not any more than holding his hand, or being there when he needs me."

"There is nothing terribly abnormal in that," she said. "A significant minority of individuals do not experience desire as acutely as others, or feel the need to validate their affections through physical acts. This does not mean you are completely closed to the idea, of course, but it does indicate that these are not experiences you particularly desire for yourself. As long as those needs, or the lack of them, are communicated plainly, I see no reason your relationship should be irreparably damaged--whatever form it may take in the future."

"But he wants the physical expression of it," Trowa sighed. "And he wants me to want it, not just to do it to make him happy. Even if I say I don't mind, or if I promise him I'll stop anything I don't like. He wants me to feel all the things that he does, and I don't."

"Then the issue is Quatre," Tessa concluded, folding her arms. "If he desires passion equal to his own, then he obviously does not desire you. And if he cannot be content with the affection you offer, the willingness to attempt avenues of human experience which hold no particular appeal for you, inherently, then he does not deserve you."

Trowa shook his head listlessly. "He deserves someone who can give him what he wants. I guess... I could try explaining it again. It can't make things worse?"

"Clarity is, I find, the optimal strategy, when it comes to those relationships we desire to cultivate. Dishonesty--whether with yourself, or him--is ultimately self-defeating, only viable in the short term."

"I wish I knew the proper strategy here," Trowa admitted. "You're right. If we don't pursue clarity Quatre and I will retain this awkwardness. And, at the least, if the situation deteriorates further, I will at least be able to approach Xavier about different quarters."

"This battlefield is not entirely familiar to me, either; I can only posit options based on what I have observed among our peer-group so far, and what has proven effective for me in the friendly relationships I have cultivated in my time here. Those experiences may not have as much bearing upon your specific circumstances as I suppose, so please do not feel obliged to give my advice the same weight you would my opinions regarding a straightforward military operation."

Trowa sighed and offered her a faint smile. "It's more advice than I had a few minutes ago."

She returned the expression, her face thawing considerably from its typical, glacial cast. "Now, if only I were certain of its actual efficacy. Still, it is my best working hypothesis."

"There are very few strategies that guarantee absolute success." Trowa's smile faded and he sighed. "Though that's not exactly a comforting thought."

"Hope and despair are equally fallacious starting points for strategic planning," she said. "The best any of us can do is assess the probabilities, consider the contingencies, and act. That last is, I think, most important; even the most disastrous outcome is ultimately more productive than the most well-considered stasis."

Trowa didn't disagree with that at all... and yet, the idea of the most disastrous outcome possible where his friendship with Quatre was concerned left him feeling sick to his stomach.

"More productive," he said finally. "But not necessarily preferable despite that. You're right, though. We can't sit at a polite stalemate forever."

"'Productive' and 'pleasant' are, unfortunately, by no mean synonymous," Tessa agreed with a brief nod. "Certainly not in this circumstance. But discomfort is very often more instructive than pleasure, is it not? It is unquestionably more so than comfortable, but inert." She touched his arm gingerly. "I do regret that my analysis is not more agreeable. but our friendship is too valuable to me. I can offer nothing but my most honest appraisal."

"It wouldn't be of much use if it were otherwise." Trowa brushed her fingertips lightly with his own. "I'll consider my next move carefully. Thank you."

"It is nothing," she assured him. "I have confidence in your ability to achieve a desirable outcome, once you are committed to a course of action." It was, quite possibly, the highest compliment Tessa could offer. "Shall we finish our patrol, and return indoors for refreshment?"

Trowa nodded. He rose to his feet, offering a Tessa a hand up as he straightened. "We can't be seen slacking, can we?"