Well, here it is, the epilogue of Parapsychology. I'm really quite proud of this, it's the first really long fanfic I've ever actually finished, and my first serious Gundam Wing fic, if you can believe it. A lot has happened since I first started this, especially the fact that when I started I think I'd only seen the first few episodes of the series (plus Endless Waltz) and now I'm down to the last six (plus the unedited version of Endless Waltz). And now if you'll excuse me, while you're reading this, I have to go shovel out the driveway. Damn blizzard dumping two and a half feet of snow in the freaking yard, it's really too much for me to handle.

One year later…

            The main office of the Wing Agency still seemed rather normal, though it had been refurbished in the time that had progressed. The floor was still wood or wood-laminate, and the threshold was still guarded by large double doors. But the floor was now a honey-colored wood, and the double doors did not seem as ominous. The large, picturesque window was still there, impeccably clean, and complimented with white blinds. Rather than one boxy mahogany desk, there were two smaller, more elegant oak desks, both of them remarkably spotless. One could see the blotter-cum-desk calendars. The Rolodexes were in one corner, the large, professional-looking phones on the same side, pencil jars occupying the other side along with staplers and boxes of rubber bands. The Post-It notes, green and pink ones, were smack dab in the middle, littering the edges of the blotter-calendar. The black pole light in the corner had been replaced with white recessed lights in the ceiling, the squat gray file cabinet adorned with a vase of poppies, the potted fern had died several months before. The walls were a china blue color, the wainscoting a honeyed oak that ran across the perimeter. The newspaper clippings and photographs had been reframed as well, matted with the china blue and framed with honeyed oak. And on the desks were two metal placards, Trowa Barton, PhD, and Quatre Barton.

            Both men were seated at their desks, the former jotting notes on a Steno pad, absently chewing on the cap of his pen, while the latter cradled the phone against his shoulder. He, a handsome blonde with the most incredible aquamarine eyes, was playing with a glass camel paperweight that had been guarding the pencil jar.

            "Yes, could you hold on for one minute?" he asked the customer on the phone, cupping his hand over the receiver. "Trowa, what's our policy on exorcisms?"

The green-eyed doctor in paranormal research frowned, running his hand through his thick fall of russet hair. "As far as I know, we don't have one. It'd be up to Hilde and Duo, if anything."

            "Yes, hello, can I get back to you on that? Great, thanks, you have a pleasant afternoon as well."

Trowa tossed the pen aside, glancing up at a clock hanging on the wall to the right. "Almost four. Take a tea break?"

            "That would be lovely," his partner replied, getting up out of his chair. He leaned over Trowa's, ruffling his hair with delicate fingers. "And then we really should get back to that charming gentleman with the bleeding walls."

            There was a sudden bang on the doors as Catherine Bloom kicked one in, her arms laden with a wooden tray, a steaming teacup rattling on its mismatched saucer and a plate of warm tea biscuits sliding around on it as well.

            "For my sweet little brother-in-law…I'll go get yours in a minute, Tro, I just couldn't carry both at once. I figured, well, it's close to teatime and you two have been shut up in this office all day, so I made you tea and cookies," she said, handing off the tray to the blue-eyed young man.

            "Hey, Cathy, thanks for the tea and cookies. But next time, babe, a little less milk and a lot more sugar!" Duo recommended, licking his lips as he leaned on the doorframe. He was still by far the scruffiest psychic in the business, wearing holey black jeans and a misshapen gray tank top that read Psychics Need Love Too. Trowa glared at him, and the violet-eyed necromancer laughed nervously, realizing he'd partaken in tea that was not left out for him.

            "So, what do we have for new cases? Poltergeists in a butler's pantry? Drowned teen pool party? Ghost cat leaving mice by the front door?" he asked, trying to steer the subject away from his theft.

Quatre picked up a couple of neatly labeled Post-It notes from his desk. "Let's see…there's a charming young man from Stanford whose dorm room walls are bleeding, we have to call him back. And a woman just called asking about our policy on exorcisms…could you or Hilde get in touch with her? She'd like it done rather soon."

            "And," Catherine added, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket, "while you and Trowa were out having dinner last night, I took this call. A woman in Russia would like us to send a team out, she's got a Class Three on her hands."

            "Do you think it's too late to call?" Quatre asked, picking up the phone at his elbow. Trowa shook his head, taking the receiver from his hands.

            "If it is, I'll be the one to get blamed for it. Ah, yes, hello, this is Dr. Trowa Barton from the Wing Paranormal Research Agency, you called regarding a possible case?"

            "Yes, my name is Lady Une, and I was wondering if you could send someone out to examine my estate. I have tried every sort of medium, psychic, and researcher from here to Moscow, and am about ready to give up hope."

Trowa nodded, tearing off the page of notes he'd been jotting on his Steno pad, Quatre handing him his pen. "Hn, I see. Could you describe the apparition a little, Lady Une?"

            "Certainly. He was once a wealthy aristocrat, a relative to a czar, called Treize Khushrenada. But something happened, and he was killed most horribly, and now his ghost haunts his estate, which I have come to inherit over the years. Please say you will help me, Dr. Barton, I have heard you are the best in the field and have had experience with spirits who have ties to the living world."

            "Um, yes…our agency has had a few cases where the deceased makes contact with someone they knew who had long since died and was reincarnated. May I ask why you mentioned that?" he asked, shooting a glance over at his husband, who was idly nibbling a cookie.

            "Because, Dr. Barton, Count Treize Khushrenada was my husband…or at least, that is what a gypsy medium told me, and it is what he has told me himself. Shall I wire you tickets to Russia?"

            "Yes, we'll need…just a moment, Lady…" he cupped a hand over the receiver. "Duo, are you taking that exorcism case or what? The woman wants to know how many tickets to reserve."

The braided psychic pumped his fist enthusiastically. "Giving it to Hilde, I'm going to Russia, Tro-man!"

            "Six, lady. My technical crew and I will see you shortly. Have a nice evening."

Catherine started doing her 'we have a new case' dance, Duo joining in as well. The brunette scientist sighed gravely, hoping he wasn't expected to dance along with them, they looked ridiculous as the camerawoman and the psychic hokey-pokeyed around the office.

            "Don't look so grave, darling. This time, you're just the scientist. You won't be expected to do anything but take measurements and observe things and yell at everyone else. We'll let this Lady Une worry about sacrilegious rituals and all of that nonsense," Quatre purred, kissing his husband on the cheek.

            "Well, let's finish calling those other cases back, and then we can go round up everyone. I wonder if Heero's finished putting the new engine block in Escaflowne yet."

            "I don't see why you insist on keeping that poor van, Trowa. It's almost as old as I am, and no matter how many new parts you install in it, it just gets worse. I'll buy you a new one and we can have Miss Noin paint whatever you want on it."

            "It's the principle of the matter, Quatre. Escaflowne and I have been through everything together. I just can't get rid of her like that," he protested, picking up the phone to call back that Stanford student, while Quatre went to call the woman in Boise and inform her that someone would be available to perform her exorcism. And Trowa had to smile, watching as Quatre did his job as "personal assistant." It was hard to believe they'd been married for a year, even harder still to believe that just a year ago, he'd been dead. He wondered if this same story would play out with the lady and her count.

            Oh well, he thought, half-listening to the line ringing, here we go again…

~^~

Now it's most definitely finished. Yay! I mean…boo. But if you thoroughly enjoyed this, as I know most of you have, there might just be a prequel in the horizon. Asuka Kureru and Nanashi Kage Enjeru both expressed their wishes for a story focusing on how Heero and Duo got together prior to this story. So kids, you might get your wish. Until then, though, go read Allegro, it's quirky and fun and the story of my life…only with Quatre…and dating…and stuff that really doesn't happen to me.