by Windsor Blue
Notes - Hey, look - it's another Letter to Quatre! Let's not even talk about how long it's been since the last one. Anyway, this is from Iria's ex-husband, Richard, about Quatre's relationship with his niece, Charlotte. For those of you who haven't seen this series before, because in all fairness it has been a long while, the idea is that you've found a box of old letters in Quatre's attic, and this is one. The previous letters can all be found at the archive.
Quatre Winner
CEO, Winner Enterprises, Inc.
23rd Floor, WEI Tower
New York, NY 10021
North American Continent
July 17, AC 226
Dear Quatre,
I'm sure I'm one of the last people you expected to hear from, but I have a few things to say to you that need to be said, and that I think you ought to - no, you deserve to hear.
I know my divorce from Iria was difficult for her, and for the kids, and apparently it was none too pleasant for you, either. I can apologize for all that until I'm blue in the face, and it won't make up for it. I heard just recently from the girls that a few of the older sisters blamed you for my leaving. According to Giselle, Iria was told that if it hadn't been for you, Trowa, and your relationship with the girls, I wouldn't have left. Charlotte tells me this has gotten back to you, so I'm sure it comes as no surprise, although I have to say it shocked the hell out of me.
For the record, it wasn't you. I never had any problems with you or Trowa, save from a little fatherly jealousy. The girls loved you two in a way that they never loved me. I'm not trying to gain any sympathy from you - that's just the way it is.
You know the real reason I left? It's petty now, but it meant the world to me then. I left because I was tired of being Mr. Iria Winner.
You see, Quatre, once someone gets sucked into your family, they stop being themselves and become an attachment, an accessory. You're expected to be on their arm at the appropriate moment and off in the corner when you're not needed. You become a coat, a purse, a pair of shoes.
I'm a man. I'm not a pair of shoes. And I just couldn't take one more minute of being less than what I am.
So like I said, it wasn't your fault. Hell, it wasn't even Iria's fault, really. She can't help how her sisters behave. If we have to place some blame, put it on me. I'm the one who couldn't hack it. I don't know how Trowa does it, frankly.
As for your relationship with the girls, I certainly never disapproved of it. I may have been jealous of it, but I'm infinitely grateful for it all the same. You were there for Charlotte all the times that I wasn't. You were there when she was born, three weeks early, and Giselle and I were in Florida visiting my parents. You were the first man to hold her, to kiss her cheek - even if you were, as Iria put it, a little green from the birth experience. I'm sure when you agreed to spend that weekend painting the nursery for your sister, you never expected to end up at the business end of her delivery.
You read her bedtime stories when I was out of town, whether on assignment or just hiding from being a Winner-by-association. You even managed to plod through all those damned dinosaur books she loved so much - although Charlotte assures me to this day that you never properly pronounced 'diplodocus' either. I still can't say it without tripping over my tongue. Can you?
You took her to see Santa Claus the Christmas after I left. I'm still envious of you for that.
You went to every last blessed one of her swim meets. I don't have the faintest notion under God how you pulled that one off.
You chaperoned her senior prom, although I suspect that was more for your own peace of mind than anything else. If it had been me, that would have been my reason.
When she went away to camp, she wrote to you. Not to me, to you. I'll tell you the truth - that stung like hell. But once I left Iria, Charlotte made it pretty clear that I was the second-place father. She always was a precocious girl, my Charlotte.
My Charlotte, your Lola. I never gave her a nickname, either.
In retrospect, I guess it may have been better for her to have you around more than me. We're a little too much alike, Charlotte and I. We clashed often enough during her teenage years - I can only imagine how much worse it could have been if we'd been under the same roof.
What I'm trying to say, Quatre, is that if I had to be usurped by someone, I guess I can live with it being you. I owe you a debt of gratitude for being there when I wasn't. I know I'm one of many brother-in-laws, past and present, but I wanted you to know that, for me, you're my baby girl's other dad.
Sincerely,
Richard