Dorothy Catalonia was not a complicated woman, as she thought. For her, life was simple, and it went her way. It was the rest of the world that was complicated.

Although, when Relena Darlian first slipped into her room that night, life seemed to become far more complex. And in a way, so did she.

Moonlight twisted things, changing simple trees into monsters from a child's nightmares, and so skin against skin could become far more then just simple sex. So Dorothy gave up on the simple life, the simple way of thinking.

Relena had meant their nights together to be a way to open up, to see behind the harsh, cold blue eyes of the other girl. Dorothy only closed herself off more.

After the wars, Relena became more and more involved in the running of things. More and more tangled up in politics and conspiracies and fat men in business suits. Pacifism was the goal. How it would be reached, Relena did not know.

Days away gave Dorothy Catalonia long hours to think. Sitting around polished wood tables, sipping cups of luke-warm tea and only half listening to the long speeches and arguments around her. She knew Relena's goal too. However, she knew how to get it.

And once, watching the way the other woman's fist hit that dark glossy table in frustration, her honey hair lank and lifeless around her burning blue eyes, she decided it was time.

Months of planning behind ice blue eyes, listening to the web being spun around her at long conferences, reading through her lover's papers and plans and half finished contracts. She waited for the right time. The inbalance of trust. The balance of belief and loyalty. Long nights she spent with silent tears, terrified and proud of the way she would end this complexity.

They visited the Gundam pilots at the asylum once. She watched, fascinated by the tears rolling down from those burning blue eyes as zero-two screamed at them to fix the mistake made by the people. By the politicians. Fat men in business suits who ate digestive biscuits in the breaks between arguments. Dipped in luke-warm weak tea.

The pilots would be dealt with, they had promised. These pilots that they could not kill, could not imprison. Relena saw to that. So they were sentenced to lives trapped in cold white rooms, eating drugged food, fighting against brown leather restraints. It made Relena cry with helplessness. It made Dorothy angry.

The people needed to learn. In only a few short years war had been forgotten by the new generation.

Pacifism needed a martyr.

And so, when the moonlight twisted, and the sheets shone glowing white in the darkness, Dorothy Catalonia watched her steady hands bring that piece of ice cold metal against her sleeping lover's head, and watched as blood and brain matter splattered across the walls, and how those burning blue eyes lay closed and still. She did not notice herself crying.

And as Dorothy Catalonia used the second bullet in the gun, the pilots found themselves freed by men dressed all in black, and a fat politician tripped over his dog and kicked it.

The Darlian's maid screamed the next morning, and dropped the breakfast tray.

War broke out.

And life was simple again.