Uninvited
by Maria Rocket
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[Author's Notes: After a most evil writer's block, I finally managed this little thing. ^^; This is the followup to 'Unseen', but it's a prequel instead of a sequel. I will be writing a sequel, but I felt I should write this first if I was going to do that. It still takes place between the end of the series and Endless Waltz, but several months before 'Unseen.' Well, hope ya like!]
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"Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you, you're not allowed
You're uninvited..."
-from "Uninvited" by Alanis Morissette
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The soft brown leather shoes made no sound as they stepped into the room. It was a large, lavish room, typical of the Catalonia estate. Very expensive. Perhaps a little too expensive. However, the owner of the shoes wasn't paying attention to the surroundings.
He was staring at the girl standing before one of the windows, bathed in the red radiance of the setting sun. A slender girl with incredibly long hair that fell like a waterfall of silk. In that light, it looked as though it were tinged with blood.
A small shiver of remembered pain went through his body. A pain that intense, he could never completely erase. It had pierced all the way to his soul. Not even the pain of the wound that had ripped through his body had compared to it. Her pain.
Silently, he approached her. She was staring out the window, so deep in her own thoughts that she was completely unaware of his presence. He stopped when he was close enough to see her face reflected in the glass pane. Her face was unlike the last time he'd seen it.
So serene.
The memory of the same face, fierce with the passion of battle flashed before him. That passion which had fueled an entire army of mobile dolls. He was suddenly grateful she had never had the opportunity to pilot a gundam. She could have become an unstoppable force.
Like he almost became. He felt a twinge of nausea at the memory of endless streams of data strobing across his vision, physically driving into his mind... Seeing the mobile suit before him, standing in his way, in the way of destroying the colony... Deeper... Destroying 'everything'... Feeling himself mindlessly gripping the control stick, pulling back hard, and firing... Then Trowa was there, and the terrible flash of the explosion...
Quatre raised his fists to his temples with a miserable groan. Those awful memories attacked him without mercy and refused to leave him in peace. His body shook with the effort of dispelling them.
"Quatre?"
He opened his eyes to see a pair of cloudy blue eyes staring down at him, confused, and maybe a little frightened. Quatre quickly regained his composure and tried to stand a little taller. Unfortunately, he still had to look up to meet her eyes. A corner of his mind cursed himself for being so short. Dorothy was barely a year older than he was.
"Hello, Miss Dorothy."
The blonde girl's eyes shimmered with emotion as she looked at him. For a moment, Quatre thought she might cry. Then her eyes fell away, refusing to meet his gaze. Quatre smiled sadly.
"Mr. Winner. I'm glad to see you well."
"And I'm glad to see you're doing likewise, Miss Dorothy," Quatre replied quietly, taking a timid step towards her.
"Are you so sure?" Dorothy lifted her head to halt him with a warning look in her eyes. "Why have you come here? How did you even get in here!?"
Quatre shifted to his left foot and ducked his head sheepishly. "Sorry for intruding like this, but I had to see you, and I wasn't sure if you'd let me in. I... jumped the fence."
Dorothy stared incredulously at the little Arabian prince. He knew what she was thinking. The fence surrounding the Catalonia estate was high enough to reach Allah. Not to mention the fact that it had enough electricity running through it to turn him into a human lightbulb. He just smiled sweetly. He hadn't been a gundam pilot for nothing.
"And what do you have to say that's important enough to risk your neck for?" Dorothy asked with a hint of nervousness.
"I want to apologize." His face immediately went sober. "For leaving you behind on the Libra. You needed me, and I..."
"I don't need anyone." Dorothy sharply interrupted.
"I know..." Quatre watched her look at him as though he'd grown another head. "But I would have stayed if I could. I was worried that you wouldn't make it out alive... You shouldn't have been left alone. No one should've been alone during all that."
He paused. Now Dorothy was looking at him with a strange passive expression. What was she thinking? He guessed she didn't like him staring at her, because her eyes narrowed at him, and her mouth tightened and began to pout angrily. Quatre felt his cheeks warm up. Why was he blushing?
"Well, I did make it out alive." She looked away from Quatre and towards the window where the sky was dimming from red into a deep purple. "I had to. Now that my grandfather's gone, I'm the only one left to take care of my family's estate. I owe him that much."
Quatre couldn't see her face anymore, blinded by the dying light streaming through the windows. "Miss Dorothy..."
"There's no need to worry about me." Dorothy spun completely away from Quatre to face the windows again. "I assure you, I've never been better. After everything that's happened... I've had my fill of battles. Now I just want to be alone."
Quatre smiled sadly. "I understand. Just know that you don't have to be alone. I know what you're going through. If you feel like talking about it..."
"No, I'd rather not."
With a quiet sigh, Quatre looked towards the floor and pushed his hands into his khakis' pockets. "Well, if that's what you want. But if you ever do want to talk, look me up, okay? You shouldn't lock yourself away like this." He lifted his eyes from the floor and his face opened with gentle surprise. Dorothy was trembling.
Filled with concern, he reached out and touched the back of her arm. His fingers grazed cool, pale blonde strands. "Miss Dorothy, are you...?"
Dorothy stepped, nearly jumped, away from Quatre's touch with an irritated sound. "Please Mr. Winner, I'm perfectly fine."
Dropping his hand down, Quatre nodded and turned away. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, I'll be leaving now. Just remember what I told you. Contact me anytime." He glanced at her once more. "Good evening, Miss Dorothy." Then he turned and walked away towards the door.
He was beyond the doorframe when he heard the click of heels on the floor behind him. He paused for a heartbeat.
"Mr. Winner," Dorothy spoke quietly. "Before you go, I'd like to apologize too. I almost killed you back there. I sent mobile dolls at you, I shot at you, and I stabbed you... I don't expect to be forgiven. But I'm the one who should be apologizing, not you."
Quatre turned to smile at her, feeling the tears in his eyes. He looked at her there, a hint of sadness in her eyes, but more stoic than anything else. She reminded him of Trowa, so deathly afraid of showing true emotion. But she was no longer denying her feelings, and she would heal in time. "Miss Dorothy, I forgave you long before I even boarded the Libra. I just wish..." He shook his head, biting his words back. "It's all in the past now."
"But the past haunts you too, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Quatre replied hestitantly. "But only in the present."
"And the future?" Dorothy stared at him standing in the doorway. She was shining brightly beneath the lights, brighter than any of the stars flickering to life in the black velvet spilling across the sky beyond her, sending the windows into darkness. Quatre thought he could see another glimmer in her misty blue eyes.
The blonde boy slid his free hand back into his pocket and stared back with a sincere look. "When this present becomes the past, I don't think I'll mind reliving it in the future at all. Hope to see you there, Miss Dorothy." With a soft, faint smile, he moved to leave again.
"If you do see me there, just call me Dorothy. I hate formalities." She suddenly blurted out. Then she crossed her arms with a feigned look of annoyance.
Quatre nodded and a corner of his mouth quirked up a little higher. "Dorothy. And you can just call me Quatre."
"Alright, Mr. Winner." Dorothy's eyes narrowed in dark mischief.
"As bad as the Maguanacs," Quatre sighed to himself as he finally turned and left the room. As he left the estate, he knew he had partially accomplished what he had come to do, and maybe a little more, but for some reason, he felt like he'd forgotten something. He felt that he needed to stay, that somehow it hadn't been enough. But his body continued moving away from the estate, leaving his heart and mind behind to puzzle over the confused emotions welling up within him.