December 22, 0300 hours

Blond tresses lay haphazardly about a grayish keyboard. The screen of the laptop buzzed lightly protesting in a series of error messages, but to no avail of the perpetrator who lay dead tired upon his desk. The barely audible buzz gave way to a pulsing siren, but still the boy barely registering the noise.

It had been a long night. Winner enterprises had already been endangered during the war. Colonial accusations flew at the Winner family accusing the charitable foundation, which had originally set out to aid the colonists' economy and morale, of hoarding resources and wealth. The original clamor was brought to a close before the war's end, but it provided an opening for Winner's rivals to point an accusatory figure, drag the company through countless hearings and appeals, and court markets once loyal to the Winner family, preying upon fears that the Winners wanted to gouge the colonists for all they were worth.

The last several months had been spent working hand in hand with PR department, discussing possible payment plans with the Billing department, convincing investors that he was indeed mature and intellectual enough to make to make decisions without being his sisters' puppet, and maintaining a decent GPA at school.

All things considered, he was grateful that Wharton had a program allowed full-time CEOs to balance work and school, but that didn't stop him from wanting to tear his assignment to shreds and throw it across the room. He sighed. It wasn't really his professors fault; she had pulled him aside after class, to offer him an extension. Winner Inc. was plastered all over the covers of newspapers and business magazines for everything from their publicity stunts to earn 'street cred' to another resource-draining, in-court victory against its unrelenting rivals. Besides, she told him, "You look like a wreck—well, more of a wreck than usual."

Quatre had smiled—a calm relaxing wave washed over him, there were still sane women in the world between the ages of 15 and 30. He had almost dropped to one knee and proposed, right then and there.

PR department wanted him to marry as soon as possible. Marriage brought stability; stability brought investors. It shouldn't have been a problem. For girls between 15 and 30, he was the icon of cool. Ever since William Gates the 40th married, Quatre had been named the solar system's most eligible bachelor for numerous consecutive years. The title was cute, but it turned a lot of heads. Most of the girls he knew now were either coquettish, squealing, ignoring him, or taken. That left him with coquettish or squealing. Oh gee. If only my investors had that kind of enthusiasm. He pondered for a moment… No wait, old, greying guys acting like that…that's a thought I'd rather not entertain. He stuck his tongue out at nothing in particular.

"Quatre Rabera Winner. Stop that this instant." At that very moment, the VidComm flashed onto the screen. Dorothy liked to 'drop' in unexpected.

Quatre smirked, a mischievous inspiration lept into his head: the perfect way to get rid of Dorothy. "I'm contemplating my marriage partner."

"Then, I've come at a bad time," she snapped.

"So why aren't you gone yet?" His irritation was clearly showing. The last press conference that evening had already drained him of any composure he had left.

"Someone's buying us!" she exclaimed. If she could have she would have reached through the screen to shake him by the collar.

He rested his head on chair and rubbed his eyes. "So? Someone put a price on our heads? It wouldn't be the first time. I have a paper due tomorrow."

"Idiot! It's worse than that. Quit school and get your ass back in here! Someone's trying to buy us out at a rate of a million shares per day."

That snapped his eyes wide open. "Who?"

"No one knows, but she has someone working on the inside to keep share prices down."

He arched an eyebrow, "She? So you do have some idea who it is?"

"Only a woman would have the brains to pull a stunt like this," she quipped.

Silently, he groaned and refrained from clawing at his face, opting to remove his glasses and rub his temples instead. "Call an emergency meeting…"

"Of our best strategists," she interrupted. "Been there, done that. Finance is working overtime hunting the insider. I've emailed you with the game plan thus far. Be a dear and send me a vid of the speech I'm sending you. I want your face and your public statement on CNN before the market opens in NY. Also, you're taking a hiatus from school, hand in your Whorton paper, and take the 6am flight back to Tokyo…."

"That's Wharton, and you know I abhor morning flights. Apparently Philly wasn't far enough to escape from you."

"Indeed." With one curt word, she cut communication. Resigning himself to his fate, he worked on his given speech. Despite their I-can't-stand-you-half-the-time relationship, he didn't know what he'd do without her. Dorothy's natural shrewdness and snappishness made her invaluable, but what made her indispensable was her loyalty. Despite appearances, they weren't unalike. Both were fierce, sharp, and quick-witted. Both were indisputably devoted to Winner Inc., having built it up from the ashes that were left when Winner's rivals began the first wave of many legal attacks. Within that sphere of business and work, they synced and lived as one continuous thought. However, that was where similarities ended. Their occasion attempts at a living together during business trips always failed miserably, as they constantly butted heads, unable to agree on anything, from car choice to toilet seats. Still, for Quatre, Dorothy was about as good as women got. Half the time was better than none at all, and he probably would have married the girl had Relena not stepped in and threatened to shoot him at point blank range if he did. Dorothy was hers after all.

Sighing, he completed his public statement, emailed to Dorothy, and worked on his paper. Around 2am that morning his eyes fluttered shut, he was nearly finished anyway and bone weary. I'll just rest my eyes for a moment…

Just over an hour later, the blond darling of the Winner family was still slumped over his laptop.

beepbeepbeep

Blindly reaching for his alarm clock, he found it after several attempts of only grasping air. He flicked the switch off.

beepbeepbeep

The infernal noise continued, inciting his wrath. He yanked the clock out of the plug.

beepbeepbeep

'Damned batteries,' he muttered as he tore them out of the alarm.

beepbeepbeep

He was half-awake now, irritable, but awake. He stumbled into the middle of his studio. Looking up and at the mirror, he realizes the alarm above his head is flashing red.

beepbeepbeep

"What the beepbeepbeep ?"

a/n: Please Read and Review. My summer feels really crazy this year. My readers' words help ease my neurotic life. Every word means a lot to me. Advice. Flames. A pat on the back. Thank you.