Disclaimer – I don't own the GW characters.

I Was Dreaming

Quatre stood amidst the throng in the backyard of Antoine Silver—an elderly man whose years of hard work had earned him a large amount of money that he now saw fit to put toward peace efforts. During the last few months, Antoine had worked alongside Relena to aid in war recovery projects and host pro peace functions. This current assembly was a luncheon for peace, its tickets priced for the wealthy; its proceeds would go toward war recovery.

Quatre had not originally planned to attend the luncheon. He had a pressing engagement elsewhere concerning his company, a meeting whose end would affect the outcome of many of the company's workers. Yet here he was, selfishly indulging on fine wine and food. And why? Because Relena had called him. "You must see his garden," she'd told him. And so he'd postponed his meeting. All because Relena said he should see Antoine Silver's magnificent garden.

What he'd seen of the garden so far was breathtaking. The arrangements of the plants, the combinations of texture and color, were so brilliant it moved his heart. But the garden's main attraction, what Mr. Silver said he would be happy to show his guests at next month's planned cocktail party—tickets a thousand per person—was an intricate maze and what Quatre really wanted to see. He had hoped Relena would be able to pull some strings to get him a tour of it today, but upon arriving at the luncheon he'd been unable to find Relena. After half an hour of looking for her, he was beginning to wonder if she'd canceled at the last minute. Then he saw her, standing with her back to him. Chatting with Heero.

Quatre's heart froze.

Heero, who had become so dear to him during the war, was now like a thorn in his side, a hindrance to obtaining the thing he wanted. Yet with this provocation came fear. Fear of how Heero would react, what he would do if he ever discovered the private thoughts Quatre kept hidden in his heart.

As much as he feared Heero finding out his heart's secret, he longed for Relena to discover it. At times he almost believed she knew. Something in her eyes or the way she'd tilt her head or the softness of her voice seemed to hint that she knew, though Quatre was never sure. But today, as she turned from Heero and gave Quatre that impish smile, her eyes seemed to say "I know" and, when she turned, her movements said "follow me."

Quatre followed, not knowing how to stop his feet. He was thankful when Heero walked by him, seemingly going to get more punch.

Relena headed straight through the crowd, then away from it toward the renowned maze. Quatre stopped his pursuit of her and looked back at the group of people who seemed unaware of them. "It's alright," Relena's e said. "Antoine gave me the okay to show you the maze." Quatre did not turn to her. His eyes scanned the group of people. "If it's Heero your worried about, don't. He's off to meet Sally about finalizing security for tomorrow's hospital opening."

Quatre turned back to her and their eyes met. "Why should I care about where Heero is?"

She tilted her head. "You shouldn't." She started back toward the maze. "But he'll be back in an hour and half."

"That's fine."

They'd reached the maze. Relena looped her arm through his and pulled him through the opening in the hedges. "Yes, that gives us enough time to explore this maze."

Quatre blinked down at her. "You don't know your way through it?"

"No, Antoine does though. He's come found me every time. But I'm hoping that the two of us can solve it, together."

Together. Quatre stared down at her as she pulled him along and repeated that word silently to himself, enjoying the feel of her arm looped round his more than he knew he should.

"Left or right?" Relena asked as they reached their first puzzle.

"Right." They turned right.

As they walked, turning here and there, Quatre noticed how the green hedges seemed so high, almost touching the sky; the ground so soft, his feet almost sinking into it; Relena so warm as she leaned against him, her body whispering sweet seductions.

"Ah!" They'd come upon a small clearing in the maze. At its center was a fountain. Slipping her arm from his, Relena glided toward it. She sat on its stone edge and dipped her hand into the clear liquid. "I love this part of the maze," she murmured so softly that Quatre almost didn't hear.

Missing their closeness, he moved for her, sitting at her side. His eyes took in the serenity on her face reflected in the water. "Heero," she said—and the moment was shattered. "He and I used to always reach this spot together."

Quatre stood, and turned away from her, closing his eyes. Yes, he should have expected that she and Heero had been here before. She and Heero were after all…

Relena laughed suddenly and Quatre turned to her. She'd turned slightly away from the fountain, and her face was creased with a look of sadness. Quatre longed to smooth those creases away. "It's funny, thinking about it. Heero and I would always make it to this point, and when we'd leave to continue searching for the exit, we'd just end up back here. We could never complete the maze." Her gaze lifted to his. "I want us to complete it, Quatre." Her frown eased into a shy smile.

For some inexplicable reason Quatre desperately wanted to complete the maze as well. But before they could, he had to know, "What did you and Heero do when you reached this point in the maze?"

Relena tilted her head, eyes intense. "Don't you know?" Her voice was husky. She stood and her hand reached up to stroke his cheek.

Quatre knew. And as Relena moved her face closer to his, he felt a strong burst of desire for the experience they would share here to be more meaningful and long lasting than hers and Heero's had been. "We won't go in circles," he whispered as his lips brushed hers. "We'll pass this point."

"We will," Relena assented. Then, slipping her hands behind his head, she pulled him to her.

With unwonted vigor, Quatre pressed Relena against him, crushing his lips against hers. Too long had he watched her from afar, wanting to touch her but unable to. He pulled her down onto the lush grass, shifting atop her, reveling in the feel of her beneath her. He trailed kisses from her lips to her earlobe, suckling it before huskily saying, "I'd always hoped you felt as I did. I—"

"Quatre." Relena's voice came out as a squeak, and he could feel her grow rigid beneath him. Her arms slipped from his back to the ground. Confused, Quatre moved to look at her face, but she stared past him. Quatre turned.

His heart almost stopped. "Heero."

Heero stood glaring down at them. No, his eyes saw only Relena. Heero growled her name.

"Quatre," Relena squeaked again. This time her hands grabbed the front of his shirt, willing him to shield her from the wrath promised in Heero's eyes.

Quatre, stumbling to his feet, positioned himself before Heero, blocking his view of Relena. Heero seemed to see through him, staring at the woman who lay trembling on the ground. Quatre did not understand. It was he who Heero should be glaring at, he whom Heero should hate. "Heero—" In one swift motion, Heero backhanded Quatre, propelling him backward. He heard a sickening thud as his head smacked against the fountain's stone rim. Relena's shrill shriek followed. "Quatre!" Laying face first in the grass, Quatre lifted himself from the ground, arms shaking. He looked over at Relena cried out at what he saw. Heero, straddling her, had both his hands wrapped tightly around her neck.

"Relena," Quatre gasped. His head throbbed with unspeakable pain. "Let her go," he moaned. He attempted to push himself upright, but he was too weak and fell to the ground instead. As he lie, cheek against the grass, watching Relena struggle with the hands around her throat, he felt as though someone were shaking him, gently saying his name. "Relena," he gasped. "Relena. Relena. Relena!"

"Quatre, wake up."

Quatre's eyes shot open and he abruptly sat up. Darkness swirled all around him. Confused, his eyes darted left then right. "Relena," he whispered hoarsely. "I've got to save her. She—"

"Quatre, you were dreaming."

A hand pressed against his cheek, turning his head left. Eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Dorothy's face. He blinked several times, breathing in rapid breaths. The dream whirled in his mind. "I was dreaming?"

Dorothy nodded. "It was just a dream."

Quatre's breaths slowed and his mind cleared. He shut his eyes. "I was dreaming." He shuddered, remembering the glossy look of Relena's eyes and the strength of Heero's grip on her neck. Dream? No, that was a nightmare. And for the life of him, he didn't know why he'd dreamt it. Heero would never hurt Relena. Heero loved her; perhaps more than Quatre loved her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dorothy's voice penetrated his thoughts and drew his eyes to her face. Her eyes showed her concern, and Quatre wondered why it was that he couldn't bring himself to care for her as he did Relena. He and Dorothy were great friends, and for months they'd chosen to turn to each other to satisfy their carnal hunger. Friendship and sex—what more did one need to start a committed relationship

Love.

Quatre didn't love Dorothy. He cared for her deeply, but that wasn't enough to make him bump their relationship up from its friends with benefits status. Though Dorothy desperately wanted him to. She never said it, but the hope was always in her eyes.

In his dream, Relena had said she and Heero were going in circles in their relationship. In reality, he and Dorothy were; their relationship unable to advance past the bedroom. Perhaps this was due to, whenever they were in the bed, his never seeing Dorothy. Always, he'd picture Relena. It was Relena's hair that spilled around him; Relena's eyes that stared passionately at him; Relena's body that enclosed him.

But it was Dorothy who he spoke to about troubles. It was Dorothy who came running when he needed that shoulder to cry on. It was Dorothy who readily offered that helping hand. Looking at her now, he wondered if perhaps he was like Heero in his dream—strangling Dorothy's heart. If so, then he was truly horrible, because he knew he would never stop. Not unless Relena…

Quatre sighed and looked away.

"Talking about it might help," Dorothy pressed.

Quatre shook his head. He didn't want to talk. Looking up, he stroked Dorothy's cheek. He unconsciously whispered Relena's name.

Dorothy, sighed but didn't pull away. She'd been aware of Quatre's feelings from the start. But every night that she was with him, she still hoped that he would finally see her. "I love you, Dorothy," was what she longed to hear.

He leaned toward her, but Dorothy placed her hand on his chest and held him still. She loved him so much, yet he continually broke her heart. "Quatre," she said, not sure if he could see the tears in her eyes. Perhaps he heard them in her voice, because his hand fell from her cheek and he looked away. She asked, "Do you know what I was dreaming about?"

Almost instantly, Quatre was on his feet and slipping into his pants. "I have an early morning tomorrow and I left my stuff at my condo…" he said distractedly.

Dorothy was used to this way of ignoring her, of beating back her feelings. He never let her say it. He knew, but he wouldn't let her put it into words. Perhaps he believed that if her feelings were left unsaid then they weren't real, and so he wouldn't have to deal with them. "Quatre—"

"Don't." His voice was haggard. His eyes, pleaded with her through the dark. "Let's not ruin this," he said.

"What is this," she wanted to scream, but she was scared of ruining this—a relationship built on unrealized longings. So she remained silent as he finished dressing.

It's my fault after all, she silently told herself. On that night, it had been she who kissed him. Later, it was she who asked him to stay. He'd whispered Relena's name as he held her close, drifting to sleep. So she'd known where his heart was. But she had hoped. She had dreamed.

"I'll call you later," Quatre said before shutting the door.

She sat in bed staring at the door, long after he had left. The darkness of night shifted around her, stripping her of the rosy illusions that she filled herself with in the light of day; in moments her mind and heart were emptied of such lies and deceits. Dorothy, eyes still fixed on the door, stared beyond it at the callous truth. Quatre had left, as he always did, as he always would. And when he came back, it wouldn't be for her. But for a dream.

The question, then, was would she still be dreaming when he returned?