No longer would she hide. No longer would she be taken advantage of or
hurt. No longer would she end up in a military hospital. That was over.
The woman walked the streets of Germany, an outsider. On the old cobbled
paths she heard her heels' snaps, the only sound save the wind. Midii Une
was on a mission. Only she was not serving as a spy. No longer.
She was different now. The crucifix no longer bobbed at her throat,
and her hair was no longer pale. She had kept the curls. Only now they
were darker, deeper in hue. As she checked her watch and realized she was
late, her bag she transferred to the opposite shoulder. Walking faster,
Midii struggled to pull up her hair. The cold air had made it stiff,
presenting the task of a simple bun difficult.
The cobblestones turned to concrete abruptly, causing her to double
over. Looking up, she saw her destination. The cathedral-like building
towered into the night sky, each of the seemingly thousands of windows lit
by candlelight. The parchment placed in front of the tapers gave off a
warm glow, but Midii knew better. This was a place of secrets, some darker
than others.
Like him. Heero Yuy glided past security. A tip had told him earlier that a former alliance spy, among other important political figures. Apparently, ballet was a hot commodity on the superpowers' entertainment list. There was something about the atmosphere here - uninviting, cold.he was welcome.
Bright lights appeared before her, and she made out through the darkness a limousine. This is a charity, she thought. Probably some rich landowner. But as the door opened she hurried to the steps to see who would retreat from its luxury. A tall, large man stepped out. I know him, she thought. Recognition struck her like a brick. He was a Prime Minister. Blair was his name. She had done a job six months ago involving his business partners. He might recognize her as well. Determined to be on time and fearful of a confrontation, Midii removed her shoes and bolted through a side door. The ground outside - and the marble floor inside - both were unimaginably cold. After two minutes of sprinting she reached the dancers' room. The room was dry and hot, stuffy. Without any regard she stripped bare in a curtained cubicle and got halfway into costume. Dropping her bag and taking her slippers and dancer ID, she went to the stage entrance. Sitting at the top of the narrow flight of stairs, she brushed aside the velvet curtain and watched the audience as she slipped on her toe shoes. Flexing her toes, she saw the sea of faces seated before the stage. For the first time she was uneasy. As she heard the approach of the other dancers she moved away from the stairwell. Now she could wait. Her performance was to be the last of the night.
He could wait. Heero could wait until after the ballet to find the spy. He was unconcerned. The preventors weren't very busy lately. Another job would be greatly appreciated. Work gave him an escape - from people associated with him and more than anything else, Relena Peacecraft. She was still pursuing him relentlessly. Watching the graceful figures dance beneath him, he wondered how they could keep going - spinning, spinning, spinning.
The dancers seemed to float across the stage. Midii watched from the wings as the almost ethereal figures gave the performance of their lives. Sure, it was beautiful, but it was a spectator art. Almost bored with the routine and completely disinterested with the other dancers, Midii searched the crowd for familiar faces. Unsuccessful, the small figure darted to one of the empty balconies. Looking directly ahead, she would face another balcony. She did so and saw something she had not expected. A person. He looked to be the same age as she - nineteen - but something in his eyes made him look much older. Slim, well built, definitely a soldier. She couldn't make out his face, but a mop of dark brown hair sat upon his head. He looked oddly familiar. He was looking down on the ballerinas, and she studied his presence until he looked up. She turned on her heel and left immediately.
He wondered why she was up in the wings. A solitary dancer - or at least she could play the part. Could she be.no. She didn't fit the description. Her hair was too dark. But she wasn't bad to look at. Pretty tall, slender, blonde-ish, pretty. Very pretty. She certainly looked like a ballet dancer. He watched as she disappeared into the expanse of burgundy velvet curtain. What could she be doing? He wondered. A curtain fell as he turned and calculated her position and when he would meet up with her. Heero waited for a moment before cocking his gun and following her.
.But she didn't wear a tutu. She was clothed in a fitted knee-length white chiffon dress with drop sleeves and deep side slits. And the shoes. They had been left in a parking lot in France when Midii had found another option to being an agent. Ballet had been an escape. A chance to start a new life. The instructor had said Midii (or rather Marie) had been born for it. Built for it. Was I meant to be a spy? A double agent? She whispered, memories of her life flashing in her mind. No longer was she Colonel Une, Agent Une, Lady Une.she was Midii. The petite, graceful girl with a mysterious face. No one asked questions.
Heero followed as she tiptoed down the marble hallway. In the dim candle- lit hall, she looked strange.ethereal.. Now he had gotten excited about having to work overtime. He waked a safe fifteen feet behind her, silently entering her world. They came to the dancer's suite - where the dancers prepared for the show. Mirrors and porcelain counters covered two walls of the square room, another was occupied by ancient plush chairs, and the last was covered by mirrors and a bar. Flowers, boxes of candy, and street clothes littered all of the horizontal surfaces. Midii reached for a box of opened chocolates and took a truffle. Suddenly she turned on her heel.
Once again she was staring down the barrel of a gun. It was not too strange to her.the steel barrel pointed in her face. She recognized the gunman as the one that had been in the wings. Waiting for anything - the shot, a word slipped from his mouth - anything. But nothing happened.
"Reach for a gun and I send a slug through your skull" He regretted being that coarse. The girl didn't move a muscle, and he slowly put down his gun. "Are you Midii Une?" he inquired emotionlessly. "No." she replied in a startlingly clear voice. An uncomfortable silence settled in the stifling hot room. After a while, without a word she breezed past him and headed backstage. He raised his gun again and followed her. "I have to be on stage soon." She said as she picked up her pace.
A trail of dancers met her twenty feet from the stage entrance. She used the sea of pink satin and tulle to her advantage, conveniently hidden from sight. Midii rushed down the narrow flight of stairs, her only thought being to use the stage to her advantage. As she rounded the last corner and pulled her ID card, one of the technicians took her arm. "Marie! You're late!" he hissed. One last check with the director, sound technician, and curtain master, and she stood in the first leg. As the curtain rose, light danced over the polished wooden floor and she heard the whistle, signaling her entrance. With a final sigh, she went en Pointe and took the first step.
He watched from the batten of the stage. A birds-eye view didn't give Heero the best view, but he saw every move she made. His eye scanned the stage for an exit she might use; he knew she was too smart to use the stairs again. All of the people involved in the delivery of the event had identification, and there was no way he could get backstage and avoid security. There was one more option. Heero dropped the jacket he wore and took out the plastic police badge from the inside breast pocket. He had picked it up at a toy store; he didn't think he would need it. He rolled up his sleeves and took the badge and gun as he jumped down to the green room.
As she polished off the final pirouette, the deafening sound of applause met her ears. She moved forward a few inches to avoid the curtain, which was rapidly closing. Roses met her feet and as she reached for one, a technician screamed her name. She curtsied and followed the voice.
She had walked right into his trap. He moved forward with the plastic handcuffs as she asked the crew worker why she had been summoned. "Midii Une." she turned at her real name, "you are under arrest." * For two hours neither said a word. She rode in the back, picking at the simple corrugated plastic handcuffs. She had been allowed to change into street clothes; she now wore jeans and a crisp white button down. As the silver GT carrying Heero and her crossed a bridge, she looked for an escape. Then she had the perfect idea.
He called the office. Une was in custody and on the way to lockdown. His job was over.
As the car hit the soft dirt road, Midii popped the headrest of the passenger's seat up, leaving a four-inch window. Making sure that Heero would not see her; her slender wrists reached through and grabbed the steering wheel. In a fraction of a second, she had pulled the car into the river. She knew what would happen.
He hadn't seen it happen. As soon as they had crossed the bridge, the spy had planted them in the river. Reacting speedily, he unbuckled his seatbelt, took his laptop, and opened both of their doors. He tread water and tried to convince her to get out of the car. "Une! Get out of the car!" She didn't blink as the water rose to her knees. "Now!" "No, I don't want to!" she yelled childishly. Left with no other choice, he hooked his elbow around her waist and dragged her from the Ford. She fought him off the three feet to the shore, and when she was back on dry ground she reached for his gun. "I don't think so."
Freezing, she didn't eye the gun but the laptop. It was all she could do to shoot him in the gut, or whatever would work. She didn't expect him to cut her loose. What the Hell are you doing?" he yelled. "You just sunk my company car!" She laughed, a laugh he would have expected from.someone else. "Calm down. You look good wet." She threw a punch skillfully, and he caught it a fraction of an inch from his face. Heero knocked her down. Holding her wrist, he looked for the handcuffs again, for some insane reason. She took the opportunity. Taking the gun, she shot him in the shoulder. The pain was too much even for the Perfect Soldier. She took the gun and the computer and ran. * She was warm now. Ten miles from the bridge, she had found a Motel 6. She had paid $16. By tomorrow, she would have a quarter-million. She had gotten a job. One last job - to get Apollo from the five gundam pilots. Apollo. A virus that would reveal the EU's [1] military and defense secrets. It would infiltrate the CIA. And destroy every business computer terminal in Europe. She had information of three of the five gundam pilots, who was the only tip that her boss had. Besides Zechs Marquis. He would go first.
AN: [EU: European Union]
Like him. Heero Yuy glided past security. A tip had told him earlier that a former alliance spy, among other important political figures. Apparently, ballet was a hot commodity on the superpowers' entertainment list. There was something about the atmosphere here - uninviting, cold.he was welcome.
Bright lights appeared before her, and she made out through the darkness a limousine. This is a charity, she thought. Probably some rich landowner. But as the door opened she hurried to the steps to see who would retreat from its luxury. A tall, large man stepped out. I know him, she thought. Recognition struck her like a brick. He was a Prime Minister. Blair was his name. She had done a job six months ago involving his business partners. He might recognize her as well. Determined to be on time and fearful of a confrontation, Midii removed her shoes and bolted through a side door. The ground outside - and the marble floor inside - both were unimaginably cold. After two minutes of sprinting she reached the dancers' room. The room was dry and hot, stuffy. Without any regard she stripped bare in a curtained cubicle and got halfway into costume. Dropping her bag and taking her slippers and dancer ID, she went to the stage entrance. Sitting at the top of the narrow flight of stairs, she brushed aside the velvet curtain and watched the audience as she slipped on her toe shoes. Flexing her toes, she saw the sea of faces seated before the stage. For the first time she was uneasy. As she heard the approach of the other dancers she moved away from the stairwell. Now she could wait. Her performance was to be the last of the night.
He could wait. Heero could wait until after the ballet to find the spy. He was unconcerned. The preventors weren't very busy lately. Another job would be greatly appreciated. Work gave him an escape - from people associated with him and more than anything else, Relena Peacecraft. She was still pursuing him relentlessly. Watching the graceful figures dance beneath him, he wondered how they could keep going - spinning, spinning, spinning.
The dancers seemed to float across the stage. Midii watched from the wings as the almost ethereal figures gave the performance of their lives. Sure, it was beautiful, but it was a spectator art. Almost bored with the routine and completely disinterested with the other dancers, Midii searched the crowd for familiar faces. Unsuccessful, the small figure darted to one of the empty balconies. Looking directly ahead, she would face another balcony. She did so and saw something she had not expected. A person. He looked to be the same age as she - nineteen - but something in his eyes made him look much older. Slim, well built, definitely a soldier. She couldn't make out his face, but a mop of dark brown hair sat upon his head. He looked oddly familiar. He was looking down on the ballerinas, and she studied his presence until he looked up. She turned on her heel and left immediately.
He wondered why she was up in the wings. A solitary dancer - or at least she could play the part. Could she be.no. She didn't fit the description. Her hair was too dark. But she wasn't bad to look at. Pretty tall, slender, blonde-ish, pretty. Very pretty. She certainly looked like a ballet dancer. He watched as she disappeared into the expanse of burgundy velvet curtain. What could she be doing? He wondered. A curtain fell as he turned and calculated her position and when he would meet up with her. Heero waited for a moment before cocking his gun and following her.
.But she didn't wear a tutu. She was clothed in a fitted knee-length white chiffon dress with drop sleeves and deep side slits. And the shoes. They had been left in a parking lot in France when Midii had found another option to being an agent. Ballet had been an escape. A chance to start a new life. The instructor had said Midii (or rather Marie) had been born for it. Built for it. Was I meant to be a spy? A double agent? She whispered, memories of her life flashing in her mind. No longer was she Colonel Une, Agent Une, Lady Une.she was Midii. The petite, graceful girl with a mysterious face. No one asked questions.
Heero followed as she tiptoed down the marble hallway. In the dim candle- lit hall, she looked strange.ethereal.. Now he had gotten excited about having to work overtime. He waked a safe fifteen feet behind her, silently entering her world. They came to the dancer's suite - where the dancers prepared for the show. Mirrors and porcelain counters covered two walls of the square room, another was occupied by ancient plush chairs, and the last was covered by mirrors and a bar. Flowers, boxes of candy, and street clothes littered all of the horizontal surfaces. Midii reached for a box of opened chocolates and took a truffle. Suddenly she turned on her heel.
Once again she was staring down the barrel of a gun. It was not too strange to her.the steel barrel pointed in her face. She recognized the gunman as the one that had been in the wings. Waiting for anything - the shot, a word slipped from his mouth - anything. But nothing happened.
"Reach for a gun and I send a slug through your skull" He regretted being that coarse. The girl didn't move a muscle, and he slowly put down his gun. "Are you Midii Une?" he inquired emotionlessly. "No." she replied in a startlingly clear voice. An uncomfortable silence settled in the stifling hot room. After a while, without a word she breezed past him and headed backstage. He raised his gun again and followed her. "I have to be on stage soon." She said as she picked up her pace.
A trail of dancers met her twenty feet from the stage entrance. She used the sea of pink satin and tulle to her advantage, conveniently hidden from sight. Midii rushed down the narrow flight of stairs, her only thought being to use the stage to her advantage. As she rounded the last corner and pulled her ID card, one of the technicians took her arm. "Marie! You're late!" he hissed. One last check with the director, sound technician, and curtain master, and she stood in the first leg. As the curtain rose, light danced over the polished wooden floor and she heard the whistle, signaling her entrance. With a final sigh, she went en Pointe and took the first step.
He watched from the batten of the stage. A birds-eye view didn't give Heero the best view, but he saw every move she made. His eye scanned the stage for an exit she might use; he knew she was too smart to use the stairs again. All of the people involved in the delivery of the event had identification, and there was no way he could get backstage and avoid security. There was one more option. Heero dropped the jacket he wore and took out the plastic police badge from the inside breast pocket. He had picked it up at a toy store; he didn't think he would need it. He rolled up his sleeves and took the badge and gun as he jumped down to the green room.
As she polished off the final pirouette, the deafening sound of applause met her ears. She moved forward a few inches to avoid the curtain, which was rapidly closing. Roses met her feet and as she reached for one, a technician screamed her name. She curtsied and followed the voice.
She had walked right into his trap. He moved forward with the plastic handcuffs as she asked the crew worker why she had been summoned. "Midii Une." she turned at her real name, "you are under arrest." * For two hours neither said a word. She rode in the back, picking at the simple corrugated plastic handcuffs. She had been allowed to change into street clothes; she now wore jeans and a crisp white button down. As the silver GT carrying Heero and her crossed a bridge, she looked for an escape. Then she had the perfect idea.
He called the office. Une was in custody and on the way to lockdown. His job was over.
As the car hit the soft dirt road, Midii popped the headrest of the passenger's seat up, leaving a four-inch window. Making sure that Heero would not see her; her slender wrists reached through and grabbed the steering wheel. In a fraction of a second, she had pulled the car into the river. She knew what would happen.
He hadn't seen it happen. As soon as they had crossed the bridge, the spy had planted them in the river. Reacting speedily, he unbuckled his seatbelt, took his laptop, and opened both of their doors. He tread water and tried to convince her to get out of the car. "Une! Get out of the car!" She didn't blink as the water rose to her knees. "Now!" "No, I don't want to!" she yelled childishly. Left with no other choice, he hooked his elbow around her waist and dragged her from the Ford. She fought him off the three feet to the shore, and when she was back on dry ground she reached for his gun. "I don't think so."
Freezing, she didn't eye the gun but the laptop. It was all she could do to shoot him in the gut, or whatever would work. She didn't expect him to cut her loose. What the Hell are you doing?" he yelled. "You just sunk my company car!" She laughed, a laugh he would have expected from.someone else. "Calm down. You look good wet." She threw a punch skillfully, and he caught it a fraction of an inch from his face. Heero knocked her down. Holding her wrist, he looked for the handcuffs again, for some insane reason. She took the opportunity. Taking the gun, she shot him in the shoulder. The pain was too much even for the Perfect Soldier. She took the gun and the computer and ran. * She was warm now. Ten miles from the bridge, she had found a Motel 6. She had paid $16. By tomorrow, she would have a quarter-million. She had gotten a job. One last job - to get Apollo from the five gundam pilots. Apollo. A virus that would reveal the EU's [1] military and defense secrets. It would infiltrate the CIA. And destroy every business computer terminal in Europe. She had information of three of the five gundam pilots, who was the only tip that her boss had. Besides Zechs Marquis. He would go first.
AN: [EU: European Union]