Blue Fleece and Stars
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters used in the story
below. I'm broke, so don't bother suing me.
Dorothy stared blankly out the window of the shuttle. She had forgotten where
she was going; but then it didn't matter anymore, did it?
When Romefeller had discovered that Relena Peacecraft had rubbed off on
Dorothy, that she had taken an absolute pacifism stand, there had been an (almost)
unanimous vote to kick her out. Of course, that wasn't what they told the public. There
had been an announcement informing the Earthsphere population that Dorothy Catalonia
had officially stepped down from the position of the Romefeller figurehead.
Within the next twenty-four hours, Dorothy's world had come crashing down
around her. She had lost her place in Romefeller, and with it went her status and place in
the world. She was out on the street with nowhere to go.
Dorothy was running these latest events through her mind when a random thought
brought a glimmer of hope to her eyes. There was one person, perhaps, who wouldn't
turn her away.
Quatre sighed. It seemed that there'd be no end to the stack of paperwork that
had accumulated on his desk. He found his thoughts drifting, as they had a habit to do,
toward a certain blond woman with gracefully sweeping eyebrows…
He'd seen in the newspaper that Romefeller had given Dorothy the boot. Even
though that wasn't what it said exactly, Quatre was plenty good at reading between the
lines. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Sure, the last time he had seen her, she'd
stabbed him, but Quatre still stood by his statement that she was kinder then he. And he
missed her. A lot.
Quatre came to a quick decision. He shoved the stack of papers aside, got up, and
strode out of the office. As he drove home, Quatre was already planning what he would
say to her. A phone call was in order, maybe a trip out to lunch. Anything, really, just to
see her again.
Dorothy was wandering around L4 with no real purpose. Everywhere, people
who recognized her were glaring, rushing children away, moving to the other side of the
street. When she was in Romefeller, Dorothy had been the strong, oppressed figurehead.
Without her place, she was just the woman who loved war.
In fact, Dorothy was beginning to have doubts that Quatre would even want her
near him. He was, after all, the kind, peace loving rich boy. She was the cold, brutal
cast-off. But what else could she do? She had to at least see him again.
Quatre paused for the fifth time in front of the vid phone. Would she want to see
him again? Quatre cancelled the call. And heaved a sigh. No, she wouldn't. Dorothy
was probably still cooling down after the Romefeller incident, and she could be
dangerous when pissed off.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Dorothy stood on the doorstep of the Winner mansion.
Maybe he's not home. Maybe he hates me. Maybe I should leave…
But before the turmoil in her head had calmed, the door opened.
Quatre was fighting to keep his jaw from dropping to his chest. There was
Dorothy, on HIS doorstep. But, this wasn't the Dorothy he had parted company with on
Libra. Her eyes, instead of the flashing, stormy blue-gray they had been, were dull and
lifeless. Her whole body sagged with despair.
Dorothy took one look at Quatre, with his warm, concerned blue eyes, and broke
down completely.
"I don't have anywhere else to go," she whispered and collapsed into his
welcoming embrace.
Quatre caught Dorothy, now sobbing, in his arms. She burrowed her head in the
crook of his neck as he murmured reassuring things in her ear. Simultaneously, they
both felt a sense of rightness, like this was how it was meant to be. Quatre tilted
Dorothy's head back and looked her in the eye.
"Come inside."
"I felt so lonely, and I guess, you where the only person I wanted to see."
Quatre had led Dorothy in, sat her down on the couch, and made her a mug of tea.
He hadn't said anything, just waited for her to talk on her own time. He knew she would,
so there had been no need to pry. Sure enough, Dorothy had found a need to confide in
the blond boy. He was, after all, the only person in the world who would listen.
"Dorothy, why don't you stay here for a while? You know, just too get back on
your feet. Or, however long you wish. It's not like I'm pressed for space."
Inside, Quatre was having a raging argument against himself.
She's dangerous. She's misunderstood. She could kill me at any time. Why
would she want to? The last time I saw her, she tried to. That was two years ago. She
hasn't changed. How would I know?
But Quatre wasn't about to let a chance like this slip by. Neither, for that matter,
was Dorothy.
"Thank you very much, Quatre. This is wonderful of you; are you sure I wouldn't
be a hassle? I would hate to intrude."
Quatre smiled inwardly. "Of course you wouldn't be intruding, Dorothy. I have
so many rooms in this huge excuse for a house that one room wouldn't be missed. I can
have someone make a room up for you right now, if you'd like."
Dorothy nodded, gratitude highlighting her elegant face. They talked some more
while the servants prepared a room, each thinking more and more intimately of the other.
Dorothy couldn't sleep.
Her thoughts were now dominated by the blond boy, with no hope for relief in the
immediate future. She got up out of the large bed and wrapped herself in a blue fleece
blanket that had been folded up at the foot of the bed. She walked out on to the balcony,
the night air wonderfully refreshing. Dorothy turned her face to the stars, and thought
about the future. One, she was sure, she wanted Quatre to be apart of.
Quatre couldn't sleep. Dorothy was all he could seem to think of now, and that
didn't hold any promise of getting him to relax.
I need a bit of fresh air.
Quatre opened the door to the balcony and stepped out, inhaling a breath of night
air. He leaned on the railing, and happened to look toward Dorothy's room. He sucked
in his breath. There she was, wrapped tightly in a fleece blanket, face to the heavens.
Looking at her, Quatre smiled. Somehow, he knew, everything would be alright.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters used in the story
below. I'm broke, so don't bother suing me.
Dorothy stared blankly out the window of the shuttle. She had forgotten where
she was going; but then it didn't matter anymore, did it?
When Romefeller had discovered that Relena Peacecraft had rubbed off on
Dorothy, that she had taken an absolute pacifism stand, there had been an (almost)
unanimous vote to kick her out. Of course, that wasn't what they told the public. There
had been an announcement informing the Earthsphere population that Dorothy Catalonia
had officially stepped down from the position of the Romefeller figurehead.
Within the next twenty-four hours, Dorothy's world had come crashing down
around her. She had lost her place in Romefeller, and with it went her status and place in
the world. She was out on the street with nowhere to go.
Dorothy was running these latest events through her mind when a random thought
brought a glimmer of hope to her eyes. There was one person, perhaps, who wouldn't
turn her away.
Quatre sighed. It seemed that there'd be no end to the stack of paperwork that
had accumulated on his desk. He found his thoughts drifting, as they had a habit to do,
toward a certain blond woman with gracefully sweeping eyebrows…
He'd seen in the newspaper that Romefeller had given Dorothy the boot. Even
though that wasn't what it said exactly, Quatre was plenty good at reading between the
lines. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Sure, the last time he had seen her, she'd
stabbed him, but Quatre still stood by his statement that she was kinder then he. And he
missed her. A lot.
Quatre came to a quick decision. He shoved the stack of papers aside, got up, and
strode out of the office. As he drove home, Quatre was already planning what he would
say to her. A phone call was in order, maybe a trip out to lunch. Anything, really, just to
see her again.
Dorothy was wandering around L4 with no real purpose. Everywhere, people
who recognized her were glaring, rushing children away, moving to the other side of the
street. When she was in Romefeller, Dorothy had been the strong, oppressed figurehead.
Without her place, she was just the woman who loved war.
In fact, Dorothy was beginning to have doubts that Quatre would even want her
near him. He was, after all, the kind, peace loving rich boy. She was the cold, brutal
cast-off. But what else could she do? She had to at least see him again.
Quatre paused for the fifth time in front of the vid phone. Would she want to see
him again? Quatre cancelled the call. And heaved a sigh. No, she wouldn't. Dorothy
was probably still cooling down after the Romefeller incident, and she could be
dangerous when pissed off.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Dorothy stood on the doorstep of the Winner mansion.
Maybe he's not home. Maybe he hates me. Maybe I should leave…
But before the turmoil in her head had calmed, the door opened.
Quatre was fighting to keep his jaw from dropping to his chest. There was
Dorothy, on HIS doorstep. But, this wasn't the Dorothy he had parted company with on
Libra. Her eyes, instead of the flashing, stormy blue-gray they had been, were dull and
lifeless. Her whole body sagged with despair.
Dorothy took one look at Quatre, with his warm, concerned blue eyes, and broke
down completely.
"I don't have anywhere else to go," she whispered and collapsed into his
welcoming embrace.
Quatre caught Dorothy, now sobbing, in his arms. She burrowed her head in the
crook of his neck as he murmured reassuring things in her ear. Simultaneously, they
both felt a sense of rightness, like this was how it was meant to be. Quatre tilted
Dorothy's head back and looked her in the eye.
"Come inside."
"I felt so lonely, and I guess, you where the only person I wanted to see."
Quatre had led Dorothy in, sat her down on the couch, and made her a mug of tea.
He hadn't said anything, just waited for her to talk on her own time. He knew she would,
so there had been no need to pry. Sure enough, Dorothy had found a need to confide in
the blond boy. He was, after all, the only person in the world who would listen.
"Dorothy, why don't you stay here for a while? You know, just too get back on
your feet. Or, however long you wish. It's not like I'm pressed for space."
Inside, Quatre was having a raging argument against himself.
She's dangerous. She's misunderstood. She could kill me at any time. Why
would she want to? The last time I saw her, she tried to. That was two years ago. She
hasn't changed. How would I know?
But Quatre wasn't about to let a chance like this slip by. Neither, for that matter,
was Dorothy.
"Thank you very much, Quatre. This is wonderful of you; are you sure I wouldn't
be a hassle? I would hate to intrude."
Quatre smiled inwardly. "Of course you wouldn't be intruding, Dorothy. I have
so many rooms in this huge excuse for a house that one room wouldn't be missed. I can
have someone make a room up for you right now, if you'd like."
Dorothy nodded, gratitude highlighting her elegant face. They talked some more
while the servants prepared a room, each thinking more and more intimately of the other.
Dorothy couldn't sleep.
Her thoughts were now dominated by the blond boy, with no hope for relief in the
immediate future. She got up out of the large bed and wrapped herself in a blue fleece
blanket that had been folded up at the foot of the bed. She walked out on to the balcony,
the night air wonderfully refreshing. Dorothy turned her face to the stars, and thought
about the future. One, she was sure, she wanted Quatre to be apart of.
Quatre couldn't sleep. Dorothy was all he could seem to think of now, and that
didn't hold any promise of getting him to relax.
I need a bit of fresh air.
Quatre opened the door to the balcony and stepped out, inhaling a breath of night
air. He leaned on the railing, and happened to look toward Dorothy's room. He sucked
in his breath. There she was, wrapped tightly in a fleece blanket, face to the heavens.
Looking at her, Quatre smiled. Somehow, he knew, everything would be alright.