Disclaimer: I don't own much, like just about nothing in the story so don't sue me. I do own the twisted plot and Sera Hiacoma. Those are mine, don't take those.

A/N: I'm back, and as promised, I'm writing a prequel and a sequel to Love will not Die. This is my start on the prequel. Of course this also can be read first or by itself without reading LWND(but you should read that too!) Thank you to all reviewers, like Quintia, my best friend and favorite reviewer, and also to Alexandria the Great, who always reviewed the last story, you're so great, just like your name says! So here it is, I hope you enjoy.

Not a Chance in Hell

Chapter 1: What is it about words…

What was the reason, they wondered. What compelled him to ever do such an odd thing? What fire burned in his stomach to make him seem like a basking lizard every time she was around? What was this thing called love that grabbed him by the throat and would never let him fully breathe by himself? Who was she to take such a gentle bachelor away from all the other much more deserving women of the world? Such were the questions aroused in every high class woman's mind when the announcement was first made. The scandalous gossip spewed from their lips to each others ears faster than light. Soon there wasn't a person in society who wasn't aware of the big bad words he had spoken. How could he, they all spat, say that to her of all people? Now I've lost my chance with him and his money. It was all common knowledge before lunchtime; Quatre Winner was getting married.

Yes, married, him. Every single, divorced, and even any married woman went into deep mourning at the loss. All the gentlemen just scratched their heads in wonder. Her? Why on Earth would he choose her? He was expected to marry for convenience, to form an alliance with some rich man's daughter. Money always married money, except now. Shocked as they all were, every person reading the newspaper was happy for him and her. However, one person reading the newspaper was rather indifferent to the fact.

"How utterly charming. He's getting married. About time some bimbo took advantage of that money. Now, which mindless airhead is it?"

A manicured hand carefully turned the plain newspaper page. She sat in an outdoor café with the utmost dignity. She knew how important she was. She had a briefcase down at her dressy shoes and her hair twisted up in an elegant yet messy ponytail. She sipped her tea and read the full announcement.

"Let's see, 'Quatre Rababa Winner announced yesterday he has chosen a bride to be', blah blah blah, 'both are overjoyed', etcetera etcetera, 'lucky woman is, contrary to belief, a relatively unknown,' yada yada, 'the very stunning-,'"

Her eyes bulged out as she saw the name listed after 'the very stunning' in the article. She grabbed the paper with both hands, nearly tearing it. "Oh no no no. This can't be right. Not a chance in Hell. Impossible. 'Sera Hiacoma'? My disgraceful cousin? She's a worm, a low worm. Not to mention she has a history. But, oh frig." She was stirring her tea so absentmindedly that the lemon had been crushed and mutilated beyond recognition. She didn't want to admit that this hit her a little closer than she would have liked, but she was hurt. Of course, she couldn't stand for being hurt. The great Dorothy Catalonia was so above all the nonsense of romance and love. She had herself, her mind and her ego, and that was all she ever needed. Or perhaps not.

"Well, Quatre, as long as I've known you, I must say you've sunk to an all time low," she said to the picture of the two of them in the paper. They didn't even look like a good couple.

"Really, now why do you say that?"

She gritted her teeth and mentally slapped herself for talking to a newspaper, only to be overheard. Still, it only appeared that she was angry. "I say that because-," she turned around and internally groaned to see it was Quatre himself. 'Great. Perfect.' To hide her horror, she put on her usual evil smile.

"Why Quatre, what are you doing sneaking up behind me? I never expected to see you now and all by yourself too. I should think you'd have your lovely fiancée joined to your hip."

He was just the way she remembered him. Beautiful, kind eyes with the boyish good looks to make any woman giddy. But, she was not any woman, she reminded herself. Yes, she was the woman who stabbed him. And she would never apologize for it. He smiled his million dollar pearly whites and, without invitation, took the seat across from her. "You really haven't changed, have you Dorothy?"

"Depends on what you mean by change. But if you're referring to the fact that my personality is unaltered, then you're correct, I haven't changed. I take it you haven't changed much yourself. And, if this newspaper doesn't deceive me," she tapped the announcement with a fingernail, "it seems that all the single drooling women of the world have lost a fine bachelor. Do you feel bad for them? I hope you don't. I'm actually incredibly delighted at their poor little faun cries of heartbreak. But now, answer my question. Whatever are you doing out here, and alone for that matter?"

He just gazed at her in awe, and then shook his head. She couldn't have been more irritating. Her opinions were still the law to her, and she totally looked her haughty selfish part. Still, it was nothing short of a delight seeing and talking to her again. Nothing was quite as invigorating as conversing with such a venomous creature as her. It made his mild-mannered self feel a strange thrill. "Well Dorothy, I'm here because I went for a walk during my lunch break, and Sera-oh, my fiancée, has wedding business to do, so figured I'd occupy myself till I could see her again. And then, I saw you, and, well, that brings us to now."

"I see. Well, seeing as it's the traditional thing to do, I will say my duties. Congratulations on your blessed event, which, I sincerely hope, isn't due to another blessed event." She raised her eyebrows and flashed her own shiny teeth. She didn't know why, but being on the prow seemed to suit her.

He, of course, looked rather insulted. "Are you suggesting that I-, Miss Dorothy, how could you even think that? I'm a perfect gentleman; I would never fool around before getting married."

"No need to get so upset, Mr. Winner. I was only being my insinuating self. I do this to almost everyone I know, and you sir, are certainly no exception."

He eased back in his chair, not exactly sure what to talk about next. He thought, perhaps, that he might refresh both their memories with their last meeting. "My, this certainly is different from our last encounter together, doesn't it?

She lowered her sunglasses and glared at him. "If you're referring to that other little café talk where I had to comment on your bad shoes and you just kissed me randomly, then yes, I must say this is quite different. And I know just why."

"Why?"

She raised her sunglasses again, not wanting her eyes to reveal anything. "One, this time you have very tasteful shoes, and two, now you're taken and you can't kiss me." There was a one silent pulse before she spoke again. "And, I can't kiss you back."

He scooted his chair a little closer to the table. "And how do you feel about that?"

"How do I feel? Now why does that interest you? Feeling is overrated."

"Overrated? Really, Miss Dorothy, you can't mean that. Without feeling life would be, excuse my language but it would be hell."

She settled her arm on the table in a very fixated manner. "Now hell, that's one thing that isn't overrated."

He shook his head. "Miss Dorothy, I don't understand."

"Oh I believe you do. Somehow we've always understood each other…But that's not the point. You must tell me, how is engaged life?"

He felt a little more at ease now than he had all day. And for some reason he just didn't know why. "Well, I can honestly say that I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life. Sera is the most wonderful person. She's so kind and gentle, and she always treats me like a king."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"I know, she is."

"Did you ever think she really was too good to be true?" He gave her a rather accusing look. "Don't look at me like that, I'm just telling you what everyone with a sensible mind would tell you."

"Just because of my money, you automatically assume-,"

"Oh really Quatre, like your lawyers haven't mentioned this already?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but found nothing truthful to say. She nodded in victory. It seemed everything involving her was a competition. There was something incredibly annoying about that, and something so fascinating. "Ok, ok, you got me there. Yes, lots of people have suggested just that, but they don't know Sera like I do. She's gentle, she loving. She's, how do I say this, well she's pure."

All this false talk of her cousin was like a knife stringing a rope down to its last thread on her nerves. A thought came up. Perhaps she should warn Quatre about this wicked girl he had undeservingly put up on a pedestal. 'Yes,' she thought, 'better to crush his hopes now than have him crush my nerves.' She would do just as soon as she was done sipping her tea. 'Wait,' she thought in mid-slurp, 'what if he didn't believe me? He's in love with her; he'd gladly take her word over mine. Then what'll he think of me? Lower than ever. I'd be that thing that dared to talk against his precious love. His false love, yes, but he's just blissfully ignorant to the fact. I like him, I mean I like him talking to me, and if I told him I was her cousin, then he'd never talk to me again. Well, ok, he'd probably be ecstatic about it at first, but some things just aren't meant to be said. I'd actually have to be involved in their wedding plans, their family dinners with his 29 sisters who all hate me anyway, and then I'd probably have to be godmother to any bastard children they'd have. No no Dorothy, hold your tongue, you want to keep your distance.'

"Dorothy, do you know Sera by any chance?"

She broke her thought train. "Know who?"

"Well here's her picture." He pointed to the shot in the paper. She pretended to concentrate hard on it. Yet now she could tell why he was asking. Much as she hated to admit it, they did look slightly related.

"Know her, your prized angel? Now why would a nice girl like her know me?"

"Well I only asked because I see somewhat of a resemblance. That's why I first noticed her at first really; she reminded me a little of you."

She stumbled grabbing her spoon. Was that a compliment? Was he hitting on her? No, the perfect Quatre Raberba Winner would never flirt after making a commitment to someone. How stupid she was to think he could make an exception for her.

"Really? Well it's that an odd coincidence. Sorry to disappoint you but I'm afraid I've never seen her before in my life. Now if you'll excuse me, duty calls, and I have to leave."

Standing up with her, he said, "That's too bad. I've really enjoyed our talk."

"Yes, what is about words? They leave so much to the imagination, don't they? Well, good day Mr. Winner, and please do send me an invitation to the wedding."

She stuck out a hand for formality's sake, but he gave her a casual hug goodbye. There was so much she wanted to say tangled up in his embrace, but her tongue failed her.

"Good bye Miss Dorothy. I hope to see you soon."

"Sooner than you think, Mr. Winner," she turned around and strutted away. 'Yes sir, I'll have to make my mark on this event sooner or later. I may as well do it sooner. Time certainly never waited for me, so I won't wait for it."