The Words You Say, The Things You Remember
by Jillian Storm

Warnings?: tiny language. suggestive behavior-only if you
read into it. violence? Yes, not nice things happen off camera, but I don't think that I made it . . . too scary. I couldn't.

***
Disclaimer: Having been inspired by muggy, hot August
nights, Jillian put herself into a very *very* strange mood
and wondered what would happen if Dick Tracy met Gundam
Wing and tossed it into Alternate Reality. Used instances,
characters, lines, etc were taken from their respectable
owners and will be returned eventually. *ahem* names have
been changed to protect the innocent.
***


This is the report. This is the way I see it. This is
Dorothy Catalina's universe. But I am Trowa Barton.

She was discovered rather than born. A Venus for our
generation. I was a rather successful detective who had
fallen on hard times and into the middle of practical bounty
hunting. Some people see them as mutually exclusive. I
used to be one of those people. Key word in that sentence?
You've got it.

So what changed me? Was it the girl? Or was it a woman?
A lady beyond a doubt. With layered locks of gold that
fell around her gentle features and sharp eyes. Chilly
blue eyes that reflected the violence of a summer storm on
the ocean. And a voice that recalled the slow brush of
wind that warned of violent possibilities.

Heero was more skeptical.

Heero was my partner. A dark man with a dark past that
helped me slip from the golden side of law and benefit
anyway. I had a green color and a decorated record from
the Academy. Heero had years experience and come into his
position through the back door of necessity.

We had brushed shoulders a couple of times in the hallway
coming to and from the chief's office. The chief. Back
when we honored one. Back when we filled our forms and
papers and spilt ink after spilling blood. Back when
Dorothy first came to us.

When Dorothy first came to me.
***

I had a lousy week losing one bloke and finding another one
on the street lacking evidence. The friendly tipping of
his hat and the wicked grin of darkened teeth drove me into
the rain. Into a reflective brooding that chilled my
narrow limbs and froze my shrinking heart. I loved my
city. I wanted to protect her. And she defended the
villains who wanted to violate her.

So the neon glow of the sign broke the darkness of the
street. And I was swept toward it like a moth toward the
fire. My spirit burning with anguish and my face frozen in
a dispassionate chill. I don't drink, but many things were
to change that night.

The first of which was the burning of my spirit. The
liquor calmed the anger and some sort of warming peace fell
over my mind instead. I leaned against the counter, still
heavy with grief. But glowing with artificial
possibilities. When I sensed another spirit glowing a few
seats down and I had to look.

I have no time for dames. But I seem to care for many of
them. My sister, Catherine, found a decent man to give her
babies and keep her safe in a small country place miles
from my district. Then there was Scarlet at the academy.
A chaste fling that solved itself in friendly terms. And
my mother. Well, God was going to take care of her for me.
I never met her, but I'll never love another woman like
her.

She comes to me in dreams sometimes and brushes my face.
Delicately caressing the strands of my unruly hair from my
face and tracing my cheek with a feather's touch.
"Darling," she whispers . . .

"Darling," she whispers into her glass. But this woman
isn't talking to me. She isn't pulling her fingers through
my hair or tracing my cheekbones with anything. One
glance, however, told me that I wouldn't mind if she did.

She pulls her finger around the rim of her glass and the
echoes of a strange song reach my ears. I watch her
retrace the pattern and the song wails again. It hurts to
look at her intoxication with the movement when she hasn't
tasted the liquid. The frowning tilt of her lips pulled
down her eyelids over blue, tearless pools. Golden hair
spills loose from where she's tried to tame it in clips.

I'm staring and it's making the bartender uncomfortable.
She traces the glass again. The squeaking wail coming
soulfully broken again. She needed to learn how to make
real music.

"Darling, got an eye full?" She murmurs and it takes me a
moment to realize that she's talking to me. But I keep
staring. Whiskey made me unashamed. Beer loosened my
emotions. And whatever it was that I had picked to tempt
me that night didn't mind when she patted the seat next to
her.

When my lips first parted she took the busy finger and
placed it over them. "Don't tell me what I don't need to
know." She whispered. At that moment, I wondered why I
had bothered to tell anything to anyone but her.

The next morning I wished I could remember anything that
had happened with her. But the bed was cold and crumpled
and my head was buzzing with accusations. Reminding me why
I didn't drink. Reminding me that the Lady City had
rejected and deserted me. Reminding me that I still had to
serve her.

And as I walked to the station, my step somewhat staggered
with the new sensation of the earth's constant rotation, I
knew that something important would happen that day.

First, I was sent on a rather harmless patrol. Either a
favor upon the recognition of an incapable officer or a
punishment for a reckless lieutenant. I sat in front of a
flower stand watching the Chinese grocer weigh, trade and
bag his goods. And when he left, I left too.

I might have thought twice before turning into the alley
after my suspect if I had more of my wits about me. But I
was busy pulling the brim of my hat down and trying to
avoid the cruel mistress, the sun. When the three guys
pounced me, I figure they were doing it for fun more than
to protect anything I might find.

"Dumb dick." One of the Chinese fellows kicked my jaw back
and I remembered that I liked my teeth long enough to swing
back. Missing the guy I was aiming for and also off
setting my balance enough to fall. They were having better
success with their quick feet and I felt something in my
stomach complaining about a sudden pressure. I curled
instinctively. Straining for my mother's voice with ears
that instead heard a delightful Chinese curse.

And the violence left me and the sounds of battle moved
farther away as did my consciousness until I felt a cold
slap against my cheek. "Stupid kid."

I was getting plenty of compliments that day and tried to
grin but tasted the blood on my teeth instead when the
simple motion failed. The scowling figure I recognized
later at Heero Yuy, the dark angel in the force who made
things happen. He served the Lady, the City, as well, but
he was her secret lover. The beloved bastard everyone
overlooked for the sake of usefulness.

We didn't have anything to do with each other before
because I still polished the boots of the higher ups. I
liked things clean. I did not drink. I did not hook up
with beautiful mysterious women. I did not tail someone so
poorly as to get pounced. I did not lean against Heero Yuy
the entire way back to the station.

But we moved in mutual silence until he dropped me with a
rather ungentle toss into the stiff chair of my recently
earned desk. I wondered if I should murmur some sort of
thanks, but instead was met by the stern grip of my boss
pulling my chin up for a better look at my bruised face.

"OW." I hissed as unwanted tears threatened to rise.

"No more funny business, Barton." He growled in mock
anger. I knew he was frustrated with me, but the vision of
pain I must have appeared made him slightly wince. "Do the
paper work. We'll send Yuy after the Chinese man."

"That's mine . . ." I started to complain, studying the
pages he slapped on the desk and admiring how the words
spun into a dance all on their own, spiraling into a dizzy
haze. I knew I had picked up a pen, but the metal seemed
no longer under the control of my fingers. My head fell hard
against the hard wood I had so proudly earned as I heard
the orders given, "Take Barton to the infirmary."

The cobwebs left my head the next time I woke up and were
replaced by a sharp twinge of embarrassment. When had this
started? And the memory of an angelic beauty seemed as
distant as a dream. Was that how all of this began?

The vision faded in and out as did my consciousness. When
I stirred into real wakefulness, I startled on the patient,
chiseled feature of Heero Yuy.

"You're better." He announced. "Let's go." He tossed
some clothes onto my lap. I recognized the garments as my
own. Someone had picked them up from my apartment. No one
from the station would have bothered, but I wondered if
Heero had decided I couldn't go out in my bloodier version.
Shrugging sore limbs into my clothes, I remembered that my
life was only fulfilled by serving the City. And then I
wondered how much my life was really worth. If I was
serving the Lady, the City, in this condition.

"Where are we going?" I asked after I was checked out of
the room and hurried down several blocks. I didn't
immediately recognize our destination.

"You need food." Heero pushed open the door to the bar.
And I shuddered looking at the evil glow of the neon light
in the daylight. A hiss of frustration passed through my
lips, but I was too weak with hunger to protest further.

We claimed a table near the far wall. All of the tables
along the wall were claimed but one and I was positioned
with my back to it. "What time is it?" I growled leaning
in close to the menu, this time to keep the words from
floating off the page.

"One thirty." Heero answered motioning the waitress over.

"Lunch, then." I decided, intent on the first column of
choices since I couldn't seem to find any of the others.

"Coffee," Heero muttered, handing the waitress the menu
without looking at her. His gaze was rather frozen on my
hunched over posture. I was leaning heavily against the
table.

"Reuben sandwich." I decided. "Toasted bread. Salad."

"Anything to drink?" She asked tapping the order pad
lightly with her pencil. I turned my face up at her and
the smiling lines around her eyes twitched enough to know
that I did look as bad as I felt.

"Orange juice."

"Are you sure you'll be able to keep that down?" She
looked worried as she took the menu from me. My hands
dangled meaninglessly in the air in front where the menu
had been.

"He'll be fine." Heero growled never looking up. Instead
he crossed his arms and stared at the wall.

The waitress had been gone for some time. A few of the
middle tables had been filled. A few of the edge tables
had been vacated. I watched them blur past my vision.
Uncertain of why I was back where everything had started.
And the dark angel of the city sat across from me scowling
at the wall.

The food came unannounced and quickly. Heero left his
coffee untouched, and I stared at the sandwich as if I had
never seen one before. My stomach rebelled against the
idea rather violently.

"I feel like shit."

"You look like shit."

And suddenly my mind sparked with a brilliant flash and I
laughed. Honestly. Until my sides ached as if they had
been pounded with feet again. I held myself and leaned
forward over the unwanted food. The sight of which made me
laugh more softly.

I caught Heero's puzzled gaze as he watched me silently
laughing. Nothing needed to be said between us and I knew
that I liked this man.

I collected myself then waved the waitress back. "Soup
maybe?" And as she left to meet the new request, my gaze
followed her to the bar. When my breathing stopped.

"What is it?" Heero leaned toward me suddenly. "Who do
you see?" I could sense his intruding presence, but my
eyes never left the woman at the bar. I finally looked away,
feeling my spirit burn with shame. Clenching my jaw and
clenching my eyes closed against the room. I never drink.
Why was I here?

"Is it that woman?" Heero hissed.

I opened my eyes to glare at him. His gaze was cool but
not unfriendly. Demanding, but not without understanding.

"I have to leave."

"She'll see you." Heero reminded. And I had to fight down
my every urge to flee. My cool reputation for a steady
hand failed me as the juice glass shivered fearfully.

"You're weak from you injuries. That's why you're
shaking." Heero growled angrily. I felt some comfort in
those words and set the glass down. The excuse was a handy
one. The truth was beyond my understanding. "You
shouldn't be here."

"Nice that you care." I tried to joke and decided that I
thought the wallpaper was incredibly fascinating--worth my
close inspection. I tried to decide why Heero liked
looking at it so much.

The hiss of his breath and the pull on his cheek was as
close to a smile as I thought I could earn from Heero Yuy.
And I felt small pride returning to its long forgotten
station in my spirit.

"She's gone." Heero stood up. He glanced at my plates and
then sat down again. "Eat."

And I did.

We left the smoky haze of the room later to re-enter the
humid heat of mid-day. I felt better with the soup in me,
but the world was still spinning a little. Heero glanced
over at me. I managed to clear his height by a few inches,
but his presence overpowered mine. Heero's reputation
carried him far beyond my reach. Something about the dark,
Japanese man that I admired.

I was uncertain. But Heero again gave me an escape. "You
need to go home."

"Right." I set off on my new mission, somewhat surprised
to see that Heero matched my pace. I slowed a little, but
discovered that Heero actually kept my longer stride
comfortably. Somewhat surprised that he was coming with me
at all.

Not surprised enough to ask or complain.

"Carefully now." He murmured as we entered the building.
It suffered from a little foundational sinking, but my room
on the third floor had an excellent view of the building
next door that I had a hard time turning down. I'd lived
there for almost two years now and it was just starting to
feel like home. The two years duty in this City's force
hadn't made the station feel anymore homey, but I hadn't
exactly gone out of my way to make friends.

I halted immediately on his words. The warm glow from my
stomach hadn't completely overshadowed the tension and
nervousness I felt from a few wrong choices I had leaped
into during the past few days.

I don't drink. This is why.

I don't often have visitors, but I had a modest apartment
with too few belongings to actually clutter. I pulled the
keys out of my pocket, happy that I had remembered them
from the infirmary. The bloodied clothes I had left.

Leaning towards the door, it opened on its own.

"I don't forget to lock the door."

"And you don't drink."

I paused, unable to remember if I had actually spoken that
out loud.

Heero's cheek twitched in his warped version of a grin.
Still, he agreed with me. "Someone else has been here."

I eyed him suspiciously, remember how he had brought the
clothes I was wearing. Narrowing my gaze with an
accusation, I witnessed his cheek twitched again.

"I locked it."

And we both stood taller. Heero pulled out his revolver.
I didn't have mine. I didn't know where mine was. I hoped
someone had put it in my drawer at the station. Or that
Heero had picked it up from my encounter with the Chinese
men.

He gave a quick nod and we both stepped into my abandoned
apartment room. "Out." Heero ordered in such a tone that
I felt knocked over with its intensity. "Down." He
barked as we raced past the stairs.

I moved swiftly and blind to his intentions, but trusting
in his motivation.

"Left." He spun sharply after running out the front
entrance. I followed him as he turned down the alley
between my building and the next. Halfway down the length,
Heero stopped suddenly. His gun balanced between both of
his hands. Ready. Breathing quickly, but controlling the
volume so that he could listen.

Then I heard the steps on the metal fire escape. Both of
our eyes met on the figure above us. Heero muttered our
choice oath and took aim.

"You don't know who that is!" I protested. Pulling down
on Heero's arm. He shook me off, impatient, taking aim
again. The figure was gone.

He shot me an icy blue glare, before running back out to
the street. "Take the back. Watch for a gray coat. Brown
slacks."

I looked at my empty hands. No weapon. More cautiously than
when I chased after the Chinese man, I peered around the
other side of my apartment building. The light was dimmer
back here and the air was tighter. I walked as quietly as
I could and glanced behind the dumpster. In the doorways.
I stood and listened. Nothing. I took a good look up,
just in case. And caught a rare glimpse of clear blue sky.

An innocent color that reminded me that blue-eyed Heero was
still searching for this potential intruder on the street.

I took my time though. The running had made my head spin
again. I didn't think that the Chinese men had beaten me
this badly. Maybe it was from when my head slammed into my
desk. I felt my ears turning red. I hoped it was from the
running.

"Trowa?" Heero's voice was concerned, his gun was put
away, and he reached out to steady my shoulders. "Did you
see him?"

"No." I decided against shaking my head as I might have
otherwise. "I'm fine, just winded. A little."

Heero skipped past my weakness again. "Right. You're
fine." He slapped my arm and continued. "Let's go back
and check out your room."

Heero glanced around my stuff and I tried to make a more
thorough check. But after fifteen minutes, I decided that
I would investigate how comfortable my couch still was. I
leaned back against a pillow and closed my eyes. The couch
wasn't long enough. One foot dangled over the end. I kept
the other braced against the spinning ground.

"Her name is Dorothy Catalonia."

It took me a minute between waking and drifting off into
sleep to realize that Heero was talking to me. Then a few
more seconds to realize exactly what it was that he had
said. The rest of the connections seemed a little beyond
me at that moment so I asked, "Who?"

"The woman at the bar."

I didn't reply. Instead, I felt a flash of confused
memories. The sorrowful sound made against a glass. The
smell of alcohol. The taste of lips against my own.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

And I was instantly relieved that Heero didn't know more
about her than I did. "She's trouble. Somehow, she
started this."

"Did she tell you anything? Barton!"

The snap of my name brought me back from the dreaming
sensation that Dorothy's memory was recalling. I might as
well have gotten drunk again. I didn't need to drink to
remember how to feel this way again.

"I hate her."

"Sure you do." Heero's voice interrupted my scattered
thoughts.

"Do you love someone?" I asked.

"No. And neither do you."

"I know."

"She's connected to the Chinese men." Heero's voice pulled
me back again.

My jaw worked but nothing coherent was uttered. So, I
tipped my jaw forward enough so that he knew that I was
listening still.

"I pulled you from the infirmary early because I had to
know if she was the woman you saw last night."

"Woman. I saw." My skills of analysis drifted in and out
of consciousness.

"Yes." Heero's voice came from far away. And I was alone
in the dark.

I remember that when I in junior high, my sister and I had
this tree house in the back yard. I spent most of my
summer there. Until Catherine decided it was a great place
to take her boyfriends. Still, if I could sneak out the
back door before my aunt and uncle heard me, I often
climbed up to the solitude and sanctuary of that small
building.

I liked to watch the spiders build their webs. Even
Catherine let them to their business. One evening, before
the sun had stolen away its light completely, I saw one
scrawny spider catch a gnat in its web. Using some legs to
stand in the snaring web, others to hold the struggling
victim and the free ones to weave, the fragile spider
worked the gnat to death. And then partook of its meal
with gentle kisses.

"Was that what she asked you, Trowa?" A voice that seemed
familiar asked near me. I opened my eyes slowly to see
Heero's face only a few inches from my own. He leaned back
and I stretched, trying to remember why Yuy was in my
apartment. Tried to remember why I was napping on the
couch. Remembering why my stomach ached and my jaw
complained.

"You talk so softly in your sleep." Heero explained,
tipping back on his heels from where he had crouched by the
couch and then stood going back to his original seat.

"I was talking in my sleep?" I asked. Feeling more alert
with each breath I took. My limbs felt strangely tense. I
tried to relax them. Heero had been here. I must have
been safe. But the vulnerability of my unhindered speech
troubled me. "What did I say?" I whispered.

"Do you feel better?" Heero studied my face.

I sat up carefully, and then put both of my feet on the
floor twisting to rest my arms against my knees. I nodded.
Leaving my question to linger until he answered it.

Heero looked at me for a good while. The seconds ticked
past and I found my eyelids drooping again.

"You were drugged."

My eyes opened wide.

"The drink," Heero stopped to breathe a small laugh. "The
drink was done up so that you wouldn't remember her asking but
that you could still answer her questions."

"What does a small-town-detective-come-to-the-city know
that this Dorothy needed to know so that she planned this
scheme so completely?" I whistled. It was easier to think
about myself and about the circumstances at a distance.

Heero tilted his head to consider that for a moment. His
eyes never left my face. "She was expecting someone."

"Someone?" My brain began to pick up its characteristic
ability to analyze and evaluate. "It wasn't me."

"You don't drink." Heero actually laughed.

"My happening into the bar then was an accident." I
puzzled over the radical possibilities. "But why would she
think it was me? Did I accidentally respond to a code? Do
I look like someone else?"

Heero pondered those a moment. "Perhaps its because you're
a cop."

I stopped my contemplation of the chance circumstances and
asked again, "What did I say in my sleep?"

"She wanted to know if the deal had been made."

I pulled that one around for a while. "A deal? Like a
deal to get out? Or a deal to get in? Or an underhanded
deal?"

"Do you always think out loud?" Heero asked, actually
grinning.

"Only when there's someone near who can help me out by
listening." I answered quickly, still working the problem
in my head. Trying to remember hearing someone actually
saying that to me. Flashes of dark blond hair cascading
around me like a web.

"Go to sleep, Trowa." Heero commanded after I sat silent
for a few minutes.

I might have protested that I'd just woken from a nap, when
I realized that I was tired. Somehow, between the late
lunch, the chase, my nap and the possible solution to the
mysterious woman at the bar, I was ready to rest. My body
yawned rebelliously.

Heero glanced around then said, "I'll stay here."

"Take the bed." I offered.

"No." He stood from his chair and waited until I stood as
well. "I'll fit on the couch. Give me a blanket and go
to sleep."

He didn't quite fit. But the match was better than if I
had tried to sleep there longer. I curled against my
pillow. Not remembering the night that left the sweet
perfume I could almost smell. I shifted and caught a
glimpse of Heero standing in the living room. His back to
me, and his gaze onto the city. What he could see of it
around the view of the neighboring building.

I didn't particularly enjoy many of my recent waking up
experiences, but, after a more or less comfortable and full
night's sleep in my own bed, I managed to make the
transition pleasantly enough. Heero left as soon as I was
moving. His presence a dark shadow in front of the window
when I first noticed him. I wondered in passing if he had
stood there all night.

I called into the office to let them know that I was coming
and wanted the information on the Chinese case. And my
gun. After the impromptu encounter with someone in my
apartment, I didn't want to wander very far unarmed.

I walked. Pulling my hat down low, but keeping an alert
watch on everyone around me. Blond women I studied the
closest. I knew that the next time I saw Dorothy
Catalonia, I was going to be the one asking the questions.
And something inside me burned with the possibilities of
her answers.

I walked into the common office and sat at my desk long
enough to satisfy the chief's curious gaze as he peered out
of his office door. Looking in my general direction. I
shuffled the papers on the Chinese case back into their
folder, collected my gun from the drawer, and walked over
to Heero's dark corner. I managed to walk with the air of
invisibility so that no one noticed the sudden interest I
had in the black sheep officer.

"Ready?" I asked. Heero stopped his pencil work to lift
his eyebrows wonderingly. His lips twitched as he
hesitated just a moment longer then dropped the pencil and
stood, swooping up his over shirt and weapon in one smooth
motion.

We stepped out into the morning again, with a renewed
interest in justice. "Let's chat." I suggested. Walking
briskly past the street which the bar was on. I didn't
want to go there ever again, and yet I had to resist the
unholy desire to go back every time I thought of it.

Instead, I pulled us along to the coast of the bay. The
breeze pushed us back. I felt a salty spray ravage my face
with watery kisses as the waters moved in a rather
ferocious manner.

"It's going to rain." Heero said dryly.

"Hn." I agreed and then sat down on the nearest bench. I
felt somewhat better that I was taking the initiative. I
appreciated Heero's help, but I wasn't ready to become the
completely faded lapdog of such a disreputable officer.
"Now these Chinese men." I ruffled through the top of the
papers.

Heero sat down next to me, glancing around and satisfied
that we were alone. "Generic thugs."

I was amused by the image of Chinese thugs, and then my jaw
ached with the smile-reminding me how quickly the same men
had tackled me earlier. "Meaning?"

"They don't do much but a few underhanded deals. Hardly
worth our time, that's why you were put on patrol duty with
them . . . when you came into HQ so hung over." Heero's
eyes were narrowed to focus on something far out to sea. I
glanced out there nervously, but couldn't tell on what
Heero was visually meditating.

"So they simply decided to do a number on a dumb cop?" I
clarified.

"More or less." Was Heero's uncommitted answered.

"Marvelous." My concealed ego wilting. I found the
identification slip I was looking for in the pile of
reports. A surveillance photo dated several years ago
showed the Chinese man. In the background was the fuzzy
reflection of the woman at the bar.

"Dorothy." I heard Heero speak the name I was afraid to
think.

"She is . . . ?" I let the question drift out on the next
gust of wind cold and fresh from the far-reaching seas.

"With the Chinese men quite a bit." Heero shrugged. "I've
actually been banished to the paperwork around this
assignment for . . . my reasons. After going through the
history on this organization, I think the force has
underestimated the ambitions of this group. She's friends
with the leader's son. Seems that the two of them are
rather clean of the underground racket that the others like
to cause, but she does small transportation jobs now and
again."

"Transporting?" I asked, "Transporting what?"

"Money. Boot-leg goods." Heero left a pause suggesting
more. "Nothing too unusual or too illegal."

"Too illegal." I repeated, letting the distaste of that
phrase roll over my tongue.

"We leave them alone, pretty much." Heero shrugged.

"Why don't they leave us alone?" I asked gingerly touching
my stomach.

Heero thought for a moment. "Yeah, I was rather surprised
that the chief didn't move the entire force after they
attacked you. Even if you were drunk." His cheek
twitched. He was probably remembering my declaration that
I don't drink. And I won't. Never again.

"I was brash." I paused. "I had been frustrated."

"You're their golden boy." Heero disagreed. " Showing up a little under par doesn't mar a reputation like yours."

"Well, where do we start to find the answers then?" I
submitted to Heero's better experience with this
assignment.

"Dorothy."

And the chill of the coming storm traced icy fingers down
to my core. And I shivered.

Reporting back to the station, I told the secretary a vague
excuse that she seemed more than eager to leave as vague.
Heero shrugged when I offered him the phone, saying that he
never checked in.

"How long have you worked with them?" I asked. I'd heard
rumors about Yuy's involvement with the force, but
suspected that none of them could be as bizarre as the
truth.

"With them?" Heero let out a hoarse mockery of a laugh.
"I've been a servant to the City since I was born, Barton."
And the look he gave me told me better than any words the
cold life the City had given him.

"Foster kid?" I asked, suspecting.

"More or less."

"Lack of commitment." I made a mental note. Heero's cheek
twitched. I made a mental note of that as well. It was
becoming easier to earn humorous marks from the dark
Japanese man.

Then he answered. "Twelve years."

I was taken back a little. "How old are you?" I asked,
trying to evaluate the possibilities myself and getting no
specific, reliable guesses. Heero looked older than he
should and seemed younger than he was. Not that he acted
younger, just, at times, he seemed hopeful for something
that most people lose when they get older.

"Twenty-seven."

"Hm." I replied. Accepting and acknowledging that he
honored my prying questions with answers. "You seem so
much older than me though."

"That's life."

I nodded. Realizing that the city was aging me faster as
well. I simply hadn't gone as far as Heero had. "You were
fifteen then?" Heero nodded.

I tried to ease the emphasis I'd loaded over his past. "I have a sister."

"Catherine."

I started. My expression questioning. Had he searched my
apartment? Read and researched my records? Nothing seemed
too underhanded.

"You talk in your sleep." His cheek pulled back slightly.
"A lot."

Our surveillance took all day and edged into night. The
shadows of bad weather looming closer and closer but never
quite breaking. I was painfully aware than my body was
tiring. Whether the coming weather or the stillness that I
was forcing it to maintain so much caused it, I still could
feel the throbbing of the Chinese men's blows.

The throbbing kept me from dozing off. And for that I had
to be grateful. I couldn't afford to let Heero hear all of
my secrets.

I felt Heero's hand touch my shoulder. Looking up, I saw
her. A vision of golden glory in the stormy glow of a
setting sun. We'd moved from the Chinese man's store in
the day to sit by the bar for the evening. Heero told me
that the Chinese man's son owned the bar.

"Let's go." Heero started toward the neon sign.

"Wait." I protested. "Didn't you just say that man's son
owns this place?"

"Yeah."

"Is it safe?" I noticed my hand straying toward my
concealed weapon. Heero noticed.

"With that, and me, you're as safe as you're ever going to
be in this City. Kid." He added the bit at the end with
an affectionate lilt to his tone. I scowled at him in
return, but followed. I swallowed my heart and prepared
myself as a keeper of the peace. I was born for this
occupation, and I had legitimately earned my reputation for
quality service.

And I wanted to impress Yuy with what the "kid" could do.

My resolve was all that saved me when those sultry eyes
found me coming close. The sweet perfume I remembered from
my pillows surrounded her like an invisible shield. My
body responded to the warmth of the room, but nothing was
said. Heero stood next to me, an imposing figure.

"Yes, darlings?" Her voice broke the spell that held me
transfixed. The reality of the moment freed my integrity.

"Dorothy Catalonia."

"You remember me?" Her voice was dangerous, and somewhat
something else. I fancied it was startled.

"That's not what I've come here to talk to you about." I
matched the dangerous tremble of her voice with a deep one
in my own.

She glanced at Heero, then back at me. "I don't go
anywhere with strangers."

"Are they bothering you, doll?" The bartender wandered
down to where we were gathered.

"We're just chatting." Heero shot the man a lethal look.

"You're not wanted here. Just more tough ass acting cops."
The bartender responded in turn. He continued to wipe the
glass clean, but his motions were more powerful and
deliberate.

Dorothy's eyes shifted a little. "Let's take this outside.
Now."

"Now, Dorothy . . ." the man protested.

"I'll be *fine*." She emphasized the last word with a
practiced bite. She had been overly protected before.

The night was cooling with sudden anticipation of a
cleansing shower. Dorothy stopped just outside the door.
"You're both cops?" She asked looking pointedly at Heero.

I nodded. But her gaze never moved, and she never noticed
my response.

"Now, puppies. Don't come back here again." Dorothy
warned, putting one hand on a shapely hip.

Heero smirked, and spun on his heel. I hesitated for a
moment. Torn between the angst and shame I was fighting
down in Dorothy's presence and the professional loyalty I
felt bonding me to Heero. Then I followed Heero.

"What's this?" I hissed, but the words came out coolly.
Sometimes, I surprise myself with how detached I can sound.

"Don't worry." Heero said without explanation.

I continued to follow, feeling somewhat like a mindless,
scurrying mouse chasing after the smell of cheese. While
we moved, I tried to remember why I trusted Heero. My
memory was dazzled with a barrage of shortly barked
commands and a few brotherly encouragements. That was what
friendship with Heero Yuy was--barked commands and a
hesitant reaching out. So I kept following, as we went
farther from the heart of the city and out to the gentler
suburbs. I wished I had a car. Or had picked up a squad
car from the station.

Heero stopped and consulted the hasty scrawl on a piece of
torn napkin.

"What's that?" I asked leaning in to notice we were very
near the address noted there.

"A clue." Heero lifted an eyebrow and gave me a mock
incredulous look. I started somewhat. Wondering why Yuy
was suddenly so playful after we had distanced ourselves
from our most likely lead.

"From Dorothy?" I assessed.

"Very good, detective." Heero glanced at house numbers.
"Now to figure out what the clue is meant to tell us."

"Can we trust her?" I had to ask. Not entirely eager to
become as vulnerable in her hands as I might have been a
few nights before.

"If she had her reasons for give us this information,"
Heero found what he was looking for. "Yes."

I frowned somewhat on whatever detective style Heero was
demonstrating, but as he had mentioned before. With my
gun, and with him, I was as safe as anyone in the City
could be. We stepped onto the front porch of the specific
house. The entire place was badly in need of a re-
painting. I glanced up and was impressed with the quality
webbing that the spider's had liberty to construct. An old
bird's nest in one corner sealed the natural art's
brilliance.

"Nice place." Heero noticed my observations, and knocked a
second time.

"It is late." Our journey across town had let the sun set
and a few brave stars were visible beyond the hazy city
lights. I wondered who would greet us, and what exactly
Heero had in mind.

The silence became uncomfortable. Heero settled his hand
against the doorknob. With a firm shove, the door broke
open. "Hn, unlocked." Heero said.

I shook my head, dismayed with the obvious lack of
protocol. But I still followed him into the shadows. The
two ingredients necessary to keep the City safe. Yuy, and
a gun.

The place smelled, and the electricity was off. Whether
cut off or discontinued, we were walking into darkness. I
had walked into placed before, just never so blind to my
intentions.

Heero muttered our favorite foul word. "We're too late."
And he was right. Smeared across his table and half still
in his chair was someone. Someone dead.

"Do you know this guy?" I asked, grimacing. I didn't like
watching death working so closely. Death had done it's job
with style.

"This will be hard to explain." Heero wasn't listening to
me. Instead, he moved past the kitchen and down the back
stairs.

"How are you going to see?" I asked, following
apprehensively. The body was cold, and I hoped that was a
good sign that whoever had done the killing had simply left
a hot trail.

Heero swore again and then stomped back up the stairs.
"There's nothing down there."

"What's going on?" I was suspicious watching Heero with a
calculated caution. He knew more than I did, which made me
nervous.

"Well, we're going to have to report this guy as dead."
Heero pointed over to the stiff with his chin.

"Do you know him?" I asked, no longer veiling my
suspicions.

"His name was Duo Maxwell." Heero nodded. "Worked for the
Chinese man. Duo Maxwell meet Trowa Barton." He waved his
hand between us in mock greeting.

I frowned on his morbid humor. People react strangely to
death, and I hoped this twisted side of the dark Japanese
man was merely that. A helpless reaction in the face of
death.

"I've seen him while doing the 'paperwork' on the Chinese."
Heero explained. "The hair is unforgettable."

Right then it was a twisted mess, but the fellow had a
braid about four feet long. I whistled. I shouldn't have.
It's not right. But standing in the presence of death has
a funny effect on people.

"Let's go." Heero turned.

"Shouldn't we search for clues?" I protested,
glancing around the kitchen. Looking for a weapon.
Looking for any explanation. "What was in the basement?"

"Nothing." Heero paused, letting his speech trail over his
shoulder but didn't turn back himself. "This is the only
clue we were meant to see."

We parted. Silently agreeing to let ourselves sleep one
more night. On cases like this, one never knew when one
could rest. We were our only counsel on this independent
investigation, however, and Yuy sent me home.

I was relieved to find the door locked. I was even more
relieved when the lights turned on with the switch. The
helplessness in the dark of that other house had been
unnerving. I was surprised to see Dorothy sitting on my
couch. Lounging rather.

"What are you doing here?" I growled not really liking her
at that moment. Dorothy was a black hole in my memory and
the introducer of corpses. "You're not invited."

"You wanted to see me earlier." She purred watching me
stand awkward and tall in the doorway. "I wanted to finish
things."

The suggestive husk in her throat made me panic inside, but
I maintained my silent guardianship of the entrance. Did
she mean finish the deal? Finish the murders? Finish me?
Finish me how?

"I want out." Her voice was so soft I almost missed it.
She looked away and her lips twisted into what she tried to
pass off as a smile. It looked more like a sneer. She was
darkly beautiful and terrifying. I decided not to move.
Not to speak.

Dorothy turns back to look at me, her golden hair cascading
in different directions as if they had a life of their own.
Waves of greedy gold. "Is he dead?" She asked.

With my silent nod, a rush of emotion caused her to
tremble. "I didn't know. How long he would last." Her
eyes were glowing with pain, but nothing more came of it.
This woman didn't cry. And I felt a sneering sympathy.
Dorothy was definitely the daughter, the mirror reflection,
of the City she grew up with. A cold, unfeeling wench.

"Who were you with tonight?" Dorothy asked. The pain in
her eyes vanished and were replaced with something vacant.

I didn't answer. Still standing. Every silent gesture of
my body screaming at her, "Leave!"

"The dark officer. Asian." She spoke to herself. "I
suppose he was the one."

My ears caught her words and my voice was low, "What?"

"The one I was waiting for . . ." her voice trailed off
and her eyes wandered around the room. Observing, taking
account of the inventory, furniture, table, mirror. Was
she remembering or seeing it for the first time? Then how
did she know where to come? "But you came. You were with
the dark angel. His partner? But you know so little."

My fingers form silent fists. My lips pressed together.
What was she saying? Why was I angry? What did Heero
know?

"You're always so quiet." Dorothy stood, somewhat between
saucy and demure in her false emotions. She watched me
from a tilted head as she slowly stepped closer.

Silence was my only strength right then. And I didn't like
this game. I stepped aside and pushed the door farther
open to grant her clear access into the hallway.

She seemed to move out, before stepping in close to me.
She pause with her mouth stretched up to hover by my ear.
Her breath tickled my cheek with a burning ember. "I would
have told you anything. If you had asked."

And she was gone.

I shut the door. Locked it. Checked the lock. Then I
stepped stiffly into my bedroom. I stared at the bed. I
couldn't sleep there now. I turned back into the living
room, the picture of Dorothy on the couch burned in my
mind. I wasn't going to get any sleep.

So I stood at my window, staring at the brick wall beyond.
Feeling very trapped. With the only visions of freedom far
beyond the edges of my eyesight.

I imagined grabbing her and slamming her back into the
couch. Roughly making her answer my questions. *What have
you done? What have you done with me?* Terrifying her
until she finally cried.

But as quickly as the images came, I swallowed them down
and remembered how I had stood silently. Taking all that
she said. Letting it wash over me. Taking the analytic
and distant stance. Letting the cool calculations justify
letting a potential murder suspect simply walk out of my
room.

My detective practices were becoming as unscrupulous as
Heero's.

As I walked up to the station the next morning, Heero met
me on his way out.

"I reported the Maxwell finding." He turned me and pulled
me along by he hurried pace. "We've been official put on
the case."

That was good. I relaxed somewhat knowing that we were
moving back onto the more legal side of the issues. The
streets were busy and I found myself having to actually
quicken my pace to keep site of Yuy.

We ended up in a surveillance position over the Chinese
grocery. Watching out the window, seeing who came and who
went. I wanted to take advantage of our relative solitude
to ask my questions.

"Tell me what's going on, Yuy." I bit off his last name.
Heero was my comrade, but this other side of the Japanese
man, his mysterious involvement and motivations, annoyed
me. "Dorothy was meeting a cop wasn't she? You knew that
because it was you she was waiting for, right?"

Heero leaned against the window sill. His arms crossed and
his gaze unwavering from the street below. He trusted the
afternoon glare to cloak his presence from the eyes of
people on the street. But I saw him. And he had to answer
to me.

"I'm sorry."

That wasn't what I expected. My mouth parted somewhat and
I suddenly found myself leaning against the opposite side
of the window. Watching Heero's chiseled features. His
jaw was clenched tight, but his focus was on his duty.

Did he feel responsible for what happened afterward? The
jumble of coincidental mishaps that deposited me in the
middle of his investigation with the Chinese? The anger I
might have felt shifted into simply curiosity. The answers
might be understandable. Something I could find empathy
in.

"I had been in contact with Dorothy." Heero continued.
"She was leaking me info, but we never made personal
contact." Each sentence came deliberately. With time and
consideration taken between each. I waited patiently to
hear it all. "Then she wanted to end things. Her
connection to the illegal traffic was slim and she could
stop it before her friend, Wufei, or others got hurt. She
wanted to confess in court. We agreed to meet. But I was
suspicious, since she had chosen Wufei's bar as the meeting
location. She didn't know I was thoroughly informed of the
place's ownership."

Heero breathed. "I planned on showing up late. Simply to
observe her. Follow her home. And then make contact. But
when I arrived, she had already left. With you."

"I'm not Japanese." I said simply.

Heero's cheek pulled back his lips in a half-smile. "No.
But all Dorothy knew was that she was meeting a cop." He
took my figure in with a full glance before resuming his
watch. "Your appearance is undeniably officer-of-the-law."

I winced at the teasing. "She gave us the information on
Maxwell as her bargaining chip?"

"Yeah," Heero nodded. "But that didn't go according to
plan. He was dead and the evidence was gone. So now she's
more guilty while she's associated with killers."

A chill spilled down my spine, and I saw the Chinese man's
son enter the store. "Wufei." I murmured.

"Yeah." Was all that Heero replied.

"Someone should follow him when he goes out." I suggested.
"Oh, and by the way," I let my voice drop to almost a
threat. "Tell me what it is exactly that we're looking for
here."

"The person who killed Maxwell."

I rolled my eyes, but had to admit that was all we had for
a conviction. Even criminals deserved justice after they
were wrongfully killed. And now, instead of solving a
mystery to convict an entire criminal organization, we were
after one assassin. We were nothing more than
professional, paid and somewhat respectable bounty hunters.
I had never dreamed that my career would take such a
terrible twist, simply because I can't handle my liquor.

I vowed never to drink again.

Heero laughed. I must have said that one out loud.

I'm not as bad at tailing a suspect as I demonstrated the
other day. Heero must have known that because he let me
tail the Chinese man's son. Wufei was a decent citizen,
more or less. He had the bar and stayed clear of his
father's ambitions. According to the records anyway.
Dorothy and he were considered peaceable enough that they
were left alone.

But if Dorothy was eager to get out of some sordid affair,
chances were that Wufei was involved in it as well. He had
walked over and back from the bar on foot. This was an
undeserved blessing since neither Heero nor I had provided
ourselves with a motored form of transportation.

He had stayed to chat with his father, then made his way
through the crowded market streets back to the darker
avenues and twisted alleys. Back to where his neon sign
called to the disheartened bums wandering the streets.
Inviting them to come in. Take a beer. Drown their
sorrows. Perhaps meet a beautiful woman.

I wondered why people just didn't go home and appreciate
their families. Read a book. Listen to the radio.
Converse. I wondered what had happened to verbal
communication. Between Heero and I, we had wasted few
words. Necessity and fear drove the chatter away. There
were other ways for humans to connect emotionally and often
words are false. But honest communication.

"I would have told you anything. If you had asked."

Dorothy's words haunt me. So different than the words I do
remember her whispering on our first meeting.

"Don't tell me what I don't need to know."

And I shudder inwardly. Understanding that those were the
words of a desperate woman who knew about a potential
murder that had been actualized. A woman who thought that
she was talking to a cop. Or, at least, a cop who would
help her get out. Dorothy thought she had been talking to
someone else.

"Officer."

"Detective?"

By the second call, I knew that I wasn't imagining
Dorothy's voice this time. And that she was trying to get
my attention. I shot a hasty glance in Wufei's direction.
Was she trying to distract me from her friend? Had she
recognized me and was seeking my help?

"Trowa."

I stopped. How did she know my name? My heart beat
faster. Alert.

"It is Trowa." She had been walking up the stairs of an
apartment building. Her key was still out in her grasp.
Her other hand held a small purse. It was dark and she had
been going home. She lived here.

She stepped toward me once. Down the stairs. Hesitant
between two levels. Uncertain if she should have stopped
me and realizing that she truly had.

I wanted some answers. I glanced along the road. Wufei
was out of sight. Turning back, I spoke in a low voice, "I
want some answers."

"Of course," She glanced up the building most likely to
consider her own window.

Would she invite me up? I wondered, but her gaze once it
returned to meet my own eyes, held all of the invitation
that I could have imagined.

Justifying it quickly in my own mind, I knew that I could
learn more from a conversation with Dorothy than all of the
tracking I did of the Chinese man's son.

Her apartment was golden with light. I walked over to the
window, unable to see very well, studying my own face amid
the reflected glow. I shifted my eyes to see Dorothy where
she had stopped halfway across the room. She was watching
me. Then she tossed the small purse onto the white couch
and sat next to it. She was wearing a black jacket,
totally unnecessary in the current weather. It made her
look like someone with something to hide. She wrapped the
coat closer to her.

She knew I was watching her.

"I won't apologize." She started.

"For what?" I asked quietly.

"For the drugs." She bit her lip. Worried it a little. I
wondered if she was trying to concoct a tale that made her
part seem gentler. Less uncaring. "It didn't help much
really. You didn't know anything, so you couldn't answer
my questions."

I frowned, staring at my reflection. Hurt in my eyes. My
other features frozen. Frozen over the glass.

"And I didn't ask anything personal." Dorothy added a more
light-hearted inflection at the end. I didn't say
anything, so she continued. "I was only trying to protect
myself. See if my valiant officer was on the level about
helping me." She tried laughing again. "And it seems that
the dark Japanese guy didn't trust me either. My actions
were justified."

"What does this have to do with the dead fellow?" I asked,
changing the subject before she spoke more about that
evening. The evening that was erased from my memory,
except flashbacks of a touch. Fingers brushing back the
hair from my face.

"Duo." She sighed. It wasn't a genuine sigh. Her nature
wasn't genuine. "He was serving as sort of an underground
railroad of sorts for illegals."

"Illegals?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Not only goods, but
people?"

"Both. A little business on the side." Dorothy nodded.
"And not the imported variety either. Escaped cons."

"What?" Trying to disguise the disbelief in my voice.

"Some of them were coming to work for us." She might have
stumbled over saying that last word, but continued just as
quickly. "Others were marked. Contracts on their heads.
Wufei was going to buy them off in turn for services."

"Wufei?" I asked. So this was separate from the Chinese
man and his petty crimes organization. When she nodded, I
asked about Duo again.

"He was the middleman really. Propositioned the inmates.
Polled them. Pulled the best candidates. Interrogated
them and sent them to the bar." Dorothy guessed my next
question. "And he'd been doing this for almost a year."

"Unnoticed." I breathed.

"It's easy to buy off the guards when you're simply
exchanging the con from one sort of imprisonment to
another." Dorothy shrugged. "And it sounded okay to me,
so I went along with it."

"But you want out now. Why?"

"It's crazy." She snapped. "Wufei's over his head. He's
got these sick people loose doing sick things. It's not
*mildly* illegal like simply carrying things. It's not
even the rehabilitating justice he hoped for."

"Maxwell's picks weren't so good?"

"No. They were great. Too good actually. Some of the
guys lied well-just to get out. Others had multiple
contracts on their heads. Wufei settled the ones he knew
about, but not all of them."

I shook my head. How could one man do all of this? "What
did he think he was doing?"

"Saving them? Giving them true justice?" Dorothy laughed.
"He doesn't care much for your sort of law." She had stood
by then and walked forward to point her finger in my chest
with her last words. "You guys . . ."

"What about us?" I asked. She's good looking if she's
crooked. Something in the way she talks so sharply and
looks so teasing while talking about crazy plots to
rehabilitate the guilty. Dorothy's confident to say the
least.

Seductive at her most. She's pulled at my collar. I
haven't twitched a finger. This wasn't what I want, but
I'm curious about what she thinks she can get. And she
smelled good. Fortunately, I was at my most resolved.

"You're just as reluctant as last time." She licked her
lips.

I'm wondering what she means. This uncertainty causes a
familiar buzzing in my head.

"I thought you wanted out?" I ask after a secret inward
choke.

"I do." And then Dorothy backed away from me, stepping
into the room, touching her face with pale, long fingers.
Holding her head as if it's buzzing as well. Did I do that
to her?

She suddenly looked very small. "It's wrong. Very wrong.
Wrong for Wufei to try this."

I nodded sharply. Uncertain if I should say anything.
She's beautiful in a simple way too. But suddenly more
complicated than I can handle. Was she falsely cloaking
herself with this vulnerability or was she really seeking
help? I wanted to trust her. But I couldn't.

"Stop him."

"Ok." I agreed. I could agree to that. "But what about
Duo?"

"He's dead. Killed." She's standing taller now. Her pale
face glowing with some renewed inner strength.

"Who killed him?" I asked. "Do you know?"

She smiled, the sort of scary smile that lets you know that
someone is keeping a secret. "Yes. It was him."

"Him?"

"Wufei's father."

I hesitated. Uncertain how to proceed, when she said what
I wanted to hear.

"I think it'd be best if I went with you to the station,
now."

I closed my eyes, making the world disappear for that
fraction of a moment. Was Wufei's father responsible? Or
would Dorothy have tried to stop Wufei herself? She was
the one eager to finish Wufei's latest scheme. What was
most important?

When I opened my eyes, I replied in cool Heero Yuy fashion,
"Come with me."

The overnight crew was dozing through their paperwork when
I escorted Dorothy Catalonia back to my desk. From the
shadows of the corner, I could just make out Heero's eyes
watching me. I wondered how long he had been waiting
there. I nodded him over.

"Sit, please." I offered Dorothy a stiff, cold chair which
I set to face my desk. She gracefully slid into it,
noticing when Heero stepped up just behind where I half sat
on the desk.

"Dorothy is going to testify against Wufei and his father
regarding the murder of Duo Maxwell." I explained simply.

Heero's eyes noticeably widened. He glanced at the blond
woman and then back at me. This time I was the one keeping
secrets. I shook my head almost indiscernibly. Heero
pulled my sleeve in the back. A small tug that Dorothy
wouldn't notice. He wanted to talk with me.

I had to smile a little. Obviously, Yuy could keep secrets
himself, but could not bare them kept from him.

Stepping out of hearing for a moment I summarized quickly.
"She thinks that Wufei's trying to rehabilitate convicts in
a special way. Maxwell was helping traffic them, select
the most likely candidates."

Heero wrinkled his forehead. "The Chinese man killed Duo
Maxwell?"

"Why not?" I shrugged. "Perhaps he's got something
against his own son? Besides, they were chatting at length
today and rather strongly arguing about something."

"Hn." Heero grunted. "Do you trust your instincts?"

I glanced over at Dorothy. "She'll testify. And I don't
think she'd go to this trouble if the Chinese man wasn't
guilty of a great many other things."

Heero's eyes narrowed. But where I feared his judgment,
all I saw was his understanding. "And Dorothy will
accepting a conviction as an accomplice with Wufei. Who
we'll bring in as well. The whole operation is finally
brought into the light."

I nodded.

"Do you think she killed Maxwell?" Heero asked me. I
watched her sit demurely in the wooden chair. Taken out of
the bar, she seemed strangely vulnerable and fascinating.
I remembered how she had traced her finger around the
glass. As reflective, distressed and lost as I had been at
the same moment. Both of us scared, confused, and terribly
human.

"I wouldn't put anything past her."

I sat in on every court hearing. I watch her speak clearly
to answer every question put to her. She was alert and
impeccably frank in her replies. The prosecuting lawyer
had little to worry about because she sealed his
conviction. And the recently neglected folder dedicated to
the Chinese racket was hidden away with the solved cases.

Dorothy elegantly accepted her own conviction. Her every
word projected that desire. Small deals were cut for her
assistance in convicting the others. She would return to
the City a free woman in under a year.

Even Wufei had come under the justice of the shadier laws
of the City. Soon after the news of Dorothy's upcoming
testimony, Wufei was found dead in his own bar. His death
had been strangely similar to that of his accomplice.
Heero and I could only wonder at the connections.

And, thanks to Dorothy, the murder of Duo Maxwell fell on
the shoulders of the Chinese grocer. It was the only crime
for which they had evidence to convict him.

As the judge read the final verdicts, I peered through the
railing to study Dorothy's features. She had become
strangely fascinating, having ensnared my curiosity like a
delirious fly in the spider's embrace. I let my thoughts
linger on her every word. Trying to understand the things
that baffled me about her.

The nagging in my mind that reminded me not to forget that
she was a spider.

While the bailiff escorts her from the room, she turns
slightly. Her head lifts. Her gaze might have settled on
my own. But just as quickly, she was gone.

With Dorothy, I'm forever standing on the outside. Looking
in.

Justice doesn't satisfy. Not in this City anyway. And I
was never going to get all of my answers. This time the
realization didn't drive me to the streets in despair. I
was not lulled in by the neon lights. This time I had
helped put away a lot of rotten people that littered her
streets. And I had finally found myself a partner in the
force, a friend.

Heero let the stack of papers fall onto my desk with a
smack.

"What's this?" I protested.

Yuy smirked. "A list of small fry for you to bring in
since you brought them all to our attention. Good job."

"I see your name on this as well." I pointed to the top of
the folder. Heero shrugged. Sighing, I asked, "Did Wufei
really set *all* of these cons loose? They're all
somewhere in the City?"

Heero shrugged again. "If they haven't left." He replied
dryly.

"That's still a tall order." I grimaced. "We help convict
a true menace to society, and now they want us to act as
petty bounty hunters?"

Heero's shoulders began their upward pattern again when I
reached up with one hand. A gesture on surrender.

"Well, it'll be a less painful?" I suggested, hopeful,
touching my healed jaw.

"I'm thinking of it as job security."

I laughed quietly, glancing at the quantity. Heero had a
point. "Let's get started. Tomorrow."

***
There's a point between sleeping and waking when I hear the
gentle voice of a woman. She reminds me of my mother. She
calls me her darling and brushes my hair back from my face.
It's a small motion, but it gives me the most comfort. The
day always seems brightest when she calls to me.

"Darling, Trowa."

"Do you remember me? Do you remember who I am?"

"You haven't forgotten me already have you?"

"What's that you say?"

"You love me? Is that it? Is that what you want to tell
me?"

"You wish that you had a chance to get to know me? To see
me everyday?"

"Darling, Trowa." She says. The purr in her voice this
time reminding me of someone else. "You talk so softly in
your sleep."


the end


(*whew* It's over. Over! Let me tell you this was
another bizarre creation that spilled out of my head onto
the paper and I almost wish I wasn't responsible for it's
outcome. But still, I do like Alternate Reality. And I
love Heero/Trowa fics. Let me know what you think either
by dropping me an e-mail at stormy812@hotmail.com or you
can find me posting at Lt. Noin's message board:
http://ltnoinsguidetogw.mainpage.net)