Revelations
By Isis cw
Chapter 50

"…love." Quatre almost giggled at it. She'd actually called him "love." He felt like he'd been promoted.

"I'll be fine, love."

Alright, yes, Dorothy was tired, and stressed, and had at least two glasses of champagne in her. And yes, it was still just a random pet name. But… well, he'd take it. He'd graduated from "dearest" and "darling" to "love."

It didn't take much to make him happy.

He'd woken almost blissfully content and then promptly rolled over and closed his eyes again. The windows were still dim and he had no intentions of being the first one up this morning.

He wondered idly if he should be a bit more concerned about their ending conversation last night though. He wasn't convinced that Dorothy was really all right with everything yet. Figuring he had read too much into her emotions, he tried to keep himself to remembering her actual words, but there was something underneath it all. Something was bothering her.

Truthfully it never did any good to try to coax Dorothy into admitting things that she didn't want to. Even if he did "fight like a girl" she was too stubborn to just open up and get it off her chest.

That was alright, he'd be here when or if she felt she was ready to talk about it. It's all he could do.

In the mean time…. "…love."


Dorothy tucked the last of the boxes away in the clothing preserver, still not quite getting the smirk off her face as she thought of the bowtie wars. By the time this—albeit very mild—humiliation trickled through the rest of the corp. she was sure the guys would be sufficiently put in their place for the time being.

She didn't care if it was Quatre's mother, she was not naming her daughter Qauterine.

Footsteps thumped along the dry floorboards, echoing a little in the high, unconfined space of the attic. Turning she found Andrew carrying a couple boxes of napkins, and dropped down to kneel in front of the last shelf. "I took everything out of here, you would think they would fit back in, wouldn't you?" she mumbled, rearranging things.

"I doubt it," he answered handing her the boxes. "It takes years of practice to squish things like this into small spaces."

With a chuckle, she nodded. "One of the many feminine talents I didn't bother to pick up. I'm beginning to regret some of that now," she shook her head.

"Odd coming from you."

"I know," she waved it off. Wiggling the last box into place, she got it mostly lined up with the others and wedged tight enough that it wouldn't be coming out any time soon.

"Shouldn't be a surprise."

Blinking, Dorothy looked up at him. Andrew was leaned against the rack, thoughtfully staring into space. "What shouldn't?"

With a smirk, he looked down at her from the corner of his eye. "That you're finally developing a true feminine side."

She didn't think she cared for that insinuation. "You still think you're witty, don't you?"

Giving the box another rough shove it still didn't budge any farther. Shrugging she gave up and began zipping the bottom corner of the preserver blanket closed.

"Does he know?"

Dorothy stopped, her fingers tightening on the zipper involuntarily. Warily she turned her eyes up to Andrew, but he was once again only thoughtfully looking elsewhere. "Does who know what?"

Closing his eyes, Andrew gave her a soft sigh. "Allow me a little credit, General. I can never stop halfway if I'm curious about something."

And she froze. Dorothy stared up at him, scared to spar against him now. She had lost the last time, and apparently worse than she had realized.

Andrew finally opened his eyes again and turned to look down at her, obviously not expecting the silence. He was met with a dark look as Dorothy purposefully kept quiet. It wasn't what her old rival would expect, but she couldn't take the offensive to a challenge this time. Not if….

Visually surprised with her, he softened his expression again. "I think I underestimated." Turning away again, he took a breath and crossed his arms in front of him. "You said that you both had nightmares," he softly continued. "When I asked what it was that held you to him, all you said was 'nightmares.' That was a bit too much of a hint."

Dorothy mentally cursed herself. She had thought he would leave Quatre alone after that. She knew that being honest with him would give some of it away, but she thought that would be enough for him. "I thought you would have trusted me enough to let it go," she quietly confessed, lowering eyes back to the boxes in front of her.

"This never had anything to do with trust," he refuted. "No one bothered to trust me enough to even believe I joined the Preventers for the right reasons. Byron and I have been watched constantly, and you know it."

"That doesn't have anything to do with this," she argued, snapping her head up to look at him.

"Of course it does." He calmly met her eyes. "Who is the most likely candidate to figure out your little cover up but someone like me?"

Her little cover up.

Dorothy knew she was defeated before she even raised her foil. Lowering her eyes again, she slowly rose to her feet. The only way to salvage this now was to appease whatever it was he wanted. Mentally cursing again, she brushed off the dust from the knees of her slacks. "Get on with it then."

"I'm not making a threat, Dorothy," he returned.

Straightening to full height, she met his eyes, every ounce of fear and anger in her focused on showing him that she had no intentions of being intimidated regardless. "I said get on with it."

"Ouch," he mumbled, lowering his head. "Quatre Raberba Winner. Gundam pilot. 04. Typically noted for being the least impulsive, and sometimes backed by a squadron of other unknown mobile suits. Am I close?"

Dorothy stood, cold as stone in front of him, her eyes never leaving his face as he looked up at her again.

"I thought so," he nodded, her silence confirming it to him. "Although, from having met the man first, I almost didn't believe it. The only real confirmation I could get was the fact that you were the one behind hiding it."

Her mental curses got more profane this time.

"The others are harder to place," he thoughtfully added, turning to glace towards the door to the stairway. "But I don't imagine it would do my health any good to speculate farther."

Especially with three of them in the house, is what you mean, she mentally retorted.

Turning back, he had to have seen the murderous look in her eyes, but he softly gave her a chuckle and smiled at it. "I'm sorry. I know how you hate to lose."

"If you knew all this already, why are you asking me?" she quietly sidestepped.

"This isn't what I asked," he shook his head. "I asked if he knows."

Dorothy blinked, her anger turning to dust and leaving her throat dry.

Giving her a patient look, Andrew softened his expression again as he watched her. "I couldn't care less about this man, and never will." Uncrossing his arms he stepped up to her, gently holding her chin up to meet his eyes. "You were always the one to pick out the strongest around you. How you ended up so cozy in this group surprised me, but it makes sense. But why him?"

Why Quatre? Why else? Her last recourse was to try to make him understand. "…He saved me," she whispered. Andrew wasn't expecting that obviously. No, she was sure he wasn't. "I gave them back what they gave me. A second chance."

The silence stretched between them as he studied her eyes. She'd stunned him.

Well good. "No, he doesn't know. If I can help it, he won't either."

"That's not fair," he shook his head at her. Dorothy blinked at him, thrown off guard again. "You're always so willing to bear the brunt of everything alone. It's annoying," he chided. "But that's not what I'm asking either. Does he know why you're actually attached to him?"

"What?" Attached to him?

"You have your reason for backing him, but that's not all… or is it? The man doesn't deserve to believe you care if you only feel obligated." Leaning closer to her, he brushed her cheek with his thumb as he held her face.

Dorothy stood there, feeling like the light touch on her chin was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Was Andrew actually…?

"When are you just going to let someone care about you?"

Releasing her just like that, he turned and walked away. Dorothy stood, unflinching, listening to this footsteps soften into silence as he descended the stairs.


"Andrew."

He looked up from packing his bag to confirm the man in the doorway. "Quatre." That was fast. Andrew had hoped to avoid this.

The younger man took that as an invitation apparently and let himself into his room, closing the door on this conversation. This should give him the man's true colors, he assumed. It wouldn't be a total loss.

Continuing with his packing, he didn't bother letting Quatre try to start. "I'm not a threat to you," he skipped to the point.

"I know you're not."

That got his attention.

"I have no intentions of making you an enemy, Andrew," he continued, calmly reasonable. "I've had far too many of those already."

Andrew almost smirked. So, he'd gotten the little pilot ruffled. How cute. Dorothy's tastes hadn't changed a bit then. He'd allowed this man time during this week to somehow impress him. As of yet, Andrew was still only considering him half-worthy. Well then, he had nothing left to lose in this duel.

Oblivious to the challenge, Quatre seemed to feel the need to defend himself. "None of us really expected to live through the war. We didn't expect a second chance. But we've come to appreciate it."

Was this guy always so earnest about everything? "Why would I begrudge that? Do you think that I don't appreciate you and your friends' sacrifices? I'm not interested in retribution or so-called justice. The fact that you are all still alive and going about your 'second chances' is exactly what you deserve for your heroics."

Well, that certainly surprised someone. How did Andrew get to be the villain of this story? Quatre blinked at him, the thinly veiled anger in his eyes bleeding out again.

"Mr. Winner, I respect a lot of people I don't like," he confessed. "Don't take it so personally."

He went back to stuffing his bag as the man stood there dumbfounded. No, not impressive at all. He'd been hoping for more.

"This is completely about Dorothy then." It wasn't a question.

There. "Of course it is. Did you think I had any real interest in you?"

"Why?"

Andrew looked back at him from the corner of his eyes. "I'm a sore loser."

Quatre scrutinized him a second before he nodded to himself. "And you really think you lost her to me."

Now you've come to the challenge, he smirked to himself. "Shouldn't I? Would you honestly tell me that you're not interested?"

"I'll honestly tell you that she isn't mine," he retorted.

With a smile, Andrew nodded and went back to finishing his packing. "Dorothy will never be completely anyone's. You know that. That doesn't mean that she isn't taken."

Finishing, he zipped his bag closed and tossed the strap over his shoulder, picking up his other case as well. Turning to face the former pilot, he waited but Quatre apparently wasn't going to respond to that accusation.

Perhaps he couldn't yet. No matter. "My goal is to see her looked after, Quatre," Andrew honestly confessed. "I will only help you do that once. Don't wait for her to come to you. It won't happen," he warned.

Whatever Quatre had come here expecting to gain or do, obviously this wasn't it. "I'll look after her. But I don't think I need advice from you," he quietly returned, stepping away from the door so Andrew could pass.

Touché.

With a nod of acknowledgement Andrew passed him and opened the door to leave. Walking away towards the stairs he still wasn't sure he condoned his General's choice, but then again… perhaps Andrew and Dorothy had both come to discover that it was easier with a gentler soul.

In that case, he supposed he should have told Quatre he wished him well.


Dorothy had single-handedly destroyed the security net surrounding the former pilots. She knew that Andrew had the means to figure out Quatre's real past, but she thought she had put an end to his desire to find it. It wouldn't really have taken much, a few "innocent" questions to the right people. Andrew was an upstanding and devoted man, no one around here would have found it all that odd that he was wanting to know what she'd been up to and why that was concerned with a mere colony business owner.

Looking back she saw all of her faults that lead up to this. From the moment that Andrew stepped back into her life like that she should have known. And once they joined the Preventers, it had been her first instinct to suspect that it wouldn't be long before they stumbled over something.

Curiosity killed the cat.

She had underestimated his concern for her. Andrew had no intentions of making anything public or even of ever speaking of the matter again. It wasn't his goal. He was a Romafeller. He who died with the most secrets, won.

Andrew Varnham. Grandson of the late Admiral Varnham. Deceased because the Admiral had been on the plane with Field Marshal Noventa when OZ duped the Gundam pilots into considering that plane a target.

Perhaps Dorothy should have at least given Andrew the peace of mind to tell him that Quatre hadn't been the one that killed his grandfather. She doubted he had found enough information to confirm which one had actually taken that target.

More than likely, it didn't matter after this long. Andrew knew as well as she did that it was actually Treize's ploy that killed the leading Alliance members. She made no excuses for her cousin's tactics, and Andrew had never demanded that she try.

Although it hurt, Andrew knew better.

That was his way. That was Dorothy's way. That was… what he had just tried to talk her out of.

Is this what Leilalie has taught you? That it's alright to take a comforter? I wish I could believe that. I really do, Andrew.


The house had quieted after Heero and Miss Relena's group left. Duo and Hilde were staying for the night and leaving in the morning. He and the Maguanacs were also returning then too, although as things stood now, Quatre wasn't sure he'd be able to just leave Dorothy here by herself.

She'd disappeared somewhere about an hour ago after the others left. He hadn't gone searching for her too hard though. Quatre was assuming that she needed a little space right now and he'd allow her just a little more time to pull herself back together before he found her again.

She didn't deserve this. Whatever it was that she was feeling now, she didn't deserve it.

But he also couldn't bring himself to just be mad at Andrew either. "My goal is to see her looked after, Quatre."

On some level, the man really had loved her. He supposed he should grudgingly admit that after all this time. The man was blunt, and smug, and… a few other not so polite things. He didn't have to go so far just to prove a point.

"He knows. …I'm sorry."

It was actually the only words Dorothy had said when she told him. It hadn't taken much to figure out who and what she meant.

But she hadn't looked worried, or even angry really. She just seemed… resigned. Like she'd lost a match and was disappointed in herself.

Well, between those two, Quatre wasn't surprised.

He found himself in the music room again before he realized where his feet were leading him. The room had been put back into order once more, the extra tables and chairs removed and packed away. It seemed emptier now.

With a light caress Quatre stroked a hand along the side of the grand piano, the carved flowers getting a little smile out of him no matter his mental musings.

"Do we have to dust the furniture too?" Quatre turned back as Duo strode into the room his hands laced behind his head.

With a chuckle he shook his head at his friend. "I don't think so."

"Dust is a figment of bored people's imagination anyway," he waved it off. Stopping, Duo stared at the painting on the opposite wall for a second. "Have you seen this thing? Tell me that doesn't kind'a look like Brows."

Smiling at the blunt observation, Quatre shook his head and decided Duo was the perfect distraction right now. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence," he teased figuring Duo hadn't checked the nameplate to see that it was Davonte's handwork.

"Yeah, well, caught her best side," he mumbled and moved on to walk towards him.

With a sigh, Quatre gave up. "I wish you two would be nicer to each other."

"Oh, we're just joking 'round," Duo waved it off. "What else am I going to do? This whole trip's been a snore."

He didn't figure he could agree to that. Quatre took a glance towards the doorways to the hall, but then realized that there was no one in the house that it would really matter if they overheard this or not. "Duo, there's something I think you need to know."

"Oh ho!" The other stopped his random pacing and turning to look at him. "'Bout time."

He blinked at his friend strangely a second before he figured out that Duo was still stuck thinking about Dorothy… and him. "Not that."

"Oh," he deflated, dropping his arms. "Yeah, OK, what then?" he asked, obviously back to being bored.

He rolled his eyes and then stepped over to the closed cabinet and slowly opened the doors a little. "We've had a leak." Quatre heard Duo's random pacing stop suddenly behind him. "Andrew knows. I'm not sure if that means Byron does too, or not. He found me specifically, but I don't think it would take much after this for him to have profiled you too."

There was an unpleasant curse from the other man. "Heero know?"

Quatre nodded to himself. "Yes. I told him when they left."

"So… where do we stand?"

He moved the cabinet doors all the way open like they should be before turning around again, not wanting to look at the frames really. "All indications are that it's fine. He's looking after Dorothy more than he was actually interested in any of us," Quatre answered truthfully. "Just the same, I figured you should know."

"Yeah," Duo mumbled. Planting his hands on his hips, Duo stepped up to his side, looking over the collection of photos. "Can we count on Cat to watch him?"

Quatre closed his eyes for a moment. Duo and the others could count on more than just Dorothy watching him. "Yes." He would personally make sure of that.

Duo hummed an acknowledgement and Quatre moved to sit down on the piano bench. "I'm sorry. It's really my fault."

"Ah, no sweat. You make a Romafeller jealous, it's bound to happen," he waved it off. "You're gonna give yourself an ulcer taking the blame for everything, you know that?"

"Make a Romafeller jealous?" he questioned, looked up at Duo. How did he know that?

"Yeah," Duo turned to flash him a smile. "Hilde found out all about your little love triangle." Picking a frame off the shelves he held a picture of Dorothy and Andrew in front of his face, "Tune in next time on 'Taming Wicked Brows!'" he mimicked before lowering the frame again. "Come on, what kind of competition is this?"

Quatre rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh at his friend's vote of confidence. "I think you're missing a few pieces of the story."

"Doesn't matter," Duo waved it off and moved to return the picture to its place. "Especially if he's figured it out when Cat didn't want him to. She's going to be pissed. Good time to make your move, bud."

Quatre gave his braid a thankful smile even if the man wasn't paying attention. Duo. He never let anything get him down. How did he do it?

"Oh!" Duo happily chuckled. "I was beginning to think this was all past history." Snatching a frame off the bottom shelf, he twirled around, his grin completely undaunted. "What do we have here?"

Quatre couldn't manage to be annoyed with him but sighed and shook his head anyway. "What?" he asked, very unenthused to see another shot of Dorothy and the others.

"So, when were you posing for pictures?" Duo teased. "Couldn't you have come up with something sexier for her?"

He blinked up at him confused. "Excuse me?"

Duo looked back and forth between him and the frame a couple times and then shrugged and turned it around to show him. "Not bad, I guess."

And Quatre stopped and stared at it a second. "Where did you get that?"

"Huh? Uh, the shelf," he pointed back the obvious spot.

Quatre rose to his feet again and walked over and took the frame from him, Duo giving him a weird look. A thick, silver frame held a snapshot of himself. Where did Dorothy get this? He didn't remember her ever taking a picture. He suddenly recognized the corner of Winner Manor rising in the background behind him, and then he noticed that his collar was open….

"Ah, the clingy reporters. I expected those."

"You expected…. Dorothy!" he yelled at her. "You didn't warn me," he accused.

"Of course I did. Remember your promise," she happily added, just as he was reflexively ready to re-button his collar.

The group of reporters that had mobbed him when he got home from the resource station. She'd asked him to take off his tie and unbutton his collar. And apparently she had found some of the footage…. "Of all the—"

"Uh, Q?"

"—sneaky, manipulative women. How did she—?"

A shadow slipped over his arm and Quatre about dropped the frame. Turning over his shoulder he realized it was only Hilde and silently breathed a sigh of relief, but he wasn't sure why.

"Wow, nice," Hilde giggled, leaning into his side to look at the picture. "You should unbutton your collar more."

"Not another one," he muttered as she stole the photo out of his hands.

"Another what?" Duo snickered at him.

"As long as you don't actually try to unbutton it yourself," he mumbled. Both turned to give him odd looks and Quatre shrugged. "I got Dorothy and Catherine in the same room together once," he half-heartedly explained. "It wasn't pleasant."

"Oh," they both nodded in understanding.

"Let me guess. You're girl's got a thing for the suspenders too," Duo grumbled, throwing Hilde a bitter look.

"I told you, if you ever want a comparison all you have to do is ask," she winked at her boyfriend and then focused on the picture frame again.

Duo snorted at her, Quatre moved back to sit down on the piano bench. "Well, that was uncanny."

The two laughed at him and then went back to browsing the photo collection. Quatre sat, and casually watched as Hilde added the frame back to the bottom shelf on the right side of the cabinet where its opening was.

Dorothy had conned him into appearing in front of the reporters with his collar undone, and had then found and printed an image of it for her little collection. It would have been a whole lot less work if she'd just asked for a picture but… well, that wasn't her style.

Blinking he tried to keep the sudden smirk and blush down. One of these days he'd learn not to underestimate her.

"Whoa! When was Dorothy a cheerleader?" Duo half-cried, sufficiently ending Quatre's little illusions.

"What?" Picking up the frame that had Andrew and Dorothy and Byron pictured in their uniforms, Duo waved it back at him. And with a shrug Quatre shook his head. "I'm pretty sure that was her typical uniform."

"Bet she shaved her legs everyday," Hilde mumbled at it.

"What school did she go to?" Duo gaped.

"St. George Military Academy," he chuckled.

"Oh," the pair both nodded.

"St. George?" Duo mumbled again looking at the frame. "So… Dorothy's actually a bad little Catholic school girl?"

Hilde burst out laughing for all she was worth.

Quatre about fell off the bench. "What?"

With a look of pure abandon, Duo stared at him a minute. "Why is it always the quiet ones?"

"Duo!" he yelled at him.

"All this time I just thought you had a thing for blonds," Duo shook his head and paced over to lean against the piano beside him.

"Why does everyone think that?" Quatre complained.

"But you don't," Duo grinned, leaning over to sufficiently stare him down. "You've got a bad girl fetish," he poked the frame into his chest a couple times.

"I what?" Quatre squeaked, trying to lean away from his—obviously very amused—friend.

"Face it, Q. You're a rebel. You always have been. You just have a thing for what you're not supposed to have," Duo stated, standing back to full height and shrugging.

"A rebel?" he blinked.

Dancing the picture frame back and forth in front of his face, Duo chuckled, "And trust me, Cat's as bad as they come."


"Marquis Wayridge. Good evening."

"Ah, good evening, Mr. Winner," he returned, his arms filled with a box of items that his bustling wife kept adding to.

"Marchioness," he nodded as she slipped between them again, rounding up this or that.

"Hello, dear," she smiled and even gave Quatre a pat on the cheek that he tried not to laugh at.

Dorothy had appeared again, followed by these two, and began helping to gather up a number of borrowed items and various other things that were left in the half-restored ballroom. The two women seemed to have some type of organization going on, although Quatre certainly couldn't figure it out, and so he simply opted to stay out of it.

"I see you survived the night," the Marquis went on to make pleasant chitchat as the ladies move around the room, friendly as always.

"I did," he nodded, and then turned to look up at the taller man over the box of silver serving-ware. "Marquis…" he began, softening his voice so his wife would not overhear.

But with a single shake of his head Wayridge stopped him. "I've already been made aware of it," he cut him off.

Dorothy. So that's where she'd disappeared to. "I see," he nodded, glancing back in her direction.

"I should apologize," the Marquis went on. "There's no actual proof, of course. But sometimes memories here can be… picked."

Quatre understood that. There was no proof left here for Andrew to find. But he didn't need any, probably didn't even want any. All he needed was someone who had been around during the war enough to know for sure. And considering Andrew's background, memories were easily accessible.

"Then there's one other thing," Quatre began slowly, his eyes never leaving Dorothy as she moved along with Marchioness Elena, even giggling over a few things. "I accept."

There was a surprised note from the elder man. "So soon? I'm surprised."

Quatre closed his eyes a moment and then looked up at him again with a small smile. "You were right. I still have things I need to protect. And if this is where I can do that, then I accept."

He nodded and returned the smile. "I understand." Turning, Wayridge looked back at the women who were dividing the duty of carrying a serving tray full of items back in their direction. "Don't worry too much about this recent episode."

Shaking his head, Quatre agreed. "I'm not. But it was a good reminder." Their secrets were only as safe as the people who kept them. Watching those that knew them was never a bad idea.

"Vigilance. It is our jobs as witnesses," the Marquis nodded.


The footsteps couldn't belong to anyone else. The step was regular, the click-clack of hard-soled shoes perfect as though the woman had practiced creating the sound. And knowing this Lady, he supposed she might have.

Turning from the opened doorway, Quatre watched Dorothy slip up to his side. She had escorted the Marquis and his wife out and seen them on their way again. "It's a nice day out," she commented. "May as well enjoy what's left of it."

Without waiting to see if he'd agree or follow, she moved past him and out onto the wide terrace, sauntering up to the railing that blocked it from the gardens beyond. For a moment Quatre only watched her—studied her—but then also slipped quietly out into the low sunlight of the early evening. He came up behind her, stopping when the irregular gusts of wind tossed her hair into him.

"I'm sorry, Quatre," she quietly apologized again. "I promise there's nothing to worry about."

"I know." She blamed herself. Quatre knew that she would. Even if it would have been impossible for her to do anything to prevent it, Dorothy still had to admit that she failed at this self-appointed task.

He also knew there wasn't anything he could say that would help.

Stepping up to her side, they both looked out over the gardens, the breeze creating little waves in the water pool that ran the length of the area down to the new fountain at the end. A yellow water lily caught his attention as it bobbed a little against its leaves in the shallow trench.

"Dorothy…" he paused to try to find a different way to put this, but decided against trying to ease into the conversation. "I've had a couple conversations with Marquis Wayridge." He noticed her turn to look over at him, but he still continued to watch the gently floating flower. "I've been accepted into Oracle," he abbreviated, turning finally to see her eyes.

She didn't even try to hide her startled expression. For an instant he thought he saw fear reflected in the pale violet before she snapped her focus away again. Fear?

She'd had two men today tell her they knew what secrets she was keeping.

Quatre about slapped himself. He should have thought of that earlier. "He only gave away that you were involved to try to influence my decision," he tried to reassure her somehow with that. "And… I need you to know." He wanted her to be able to trust him with anything and everything. Oracle included.

It was slow in coming, but she finally shook her head at herself and sighed heavily. "I can't keep you out of harm's way all at, can I?" she bitterly asked.

Quatre blinked at her, not expecting that. But when she turned to give him a sour look out of the corner of her eye, he openly chuckled at it, relieved. "I wouldn't know what to do otherwise," he reminded her.

Dorothy only sighed again and turned to face him.

"What I do know, is that I'm better off on your side," Quatre confessed to her.

"And I'm… better off letting you," she quietly returned, although she didn't appear to want to say it. Stepping in, he wrapped his arms around her waist and waited for her to return the hug. "It's just hard for me to believe it. You have to make everything so difficult," she teasingly grumbled.

With a smile, he held her tightly to him. "We're just better off together. That's not difficult."

Dorothy snuggled into him, one of her hands running over the hair at the nape of his neck.


This had been an experience.

Once Duo and Hilde found that photo in the cabinet there was apparently no hope that the entire house wasn't going to find out about it. Dorothy had been physically corralled by Duo with Hilde running interference for him. Quatre hadn't been able to save her before she was accused with the photo in question.

But, never to be outdone, the Lady Catalonia had cackled—rather evilly—at them and stole the frame back. "Well, I'm just a shameless fangirl," she'd teased and happily took the frame back to the music room, laughing all the way.

Quatre wouldn't be living that down for a year.

Not to mention that the entire collected corp. was out for blood now that the boutonnières were off. However, the guys did end up finding it cute when Dorothy produced a nice picture of their group shot she'd taken, and also added that to her photo collection.

Always the crowd pleaser. And Quatre couldn't have been more thankful for it.

He'd turned in for the night, but was just waiting, idly looking through his work schedule for the coming week. He figured he was actually going to enjoy returning to work alone. Anything to get away from the disaster this turned out to be.

As expected though, there was a soft knock on his door about an hour later, and he smiled to himself as he went to answer it. Instead of coming in though, he found Dorothy waiting for him and she simply motioned him to follow her.

Turning his light out, he quietly closed the door to his room and slipped along after her. They finally ended up on the dark ground floor and he simply kept quiet as she led them back to the West wing's observation lounge, the glass porch giving them an un-obscured view of the gardens.

"What do you want to know?" Dorothy finally opened, taking a seat at one of the tables scattered along the length of the area.

"What should I know?" he asked instead, sure he knew what this midnight conversation was going to be about. He tucked his hands into his pockets and didn't bother to sit down. Instead he paced over and leaned his shoulder onto the glass of the wall, looking out at the night.

"There isn't much of a rulebook," she answered. "Oracle is based on the people involved. No one aside from Lady Une herself knows every member, but our numbers are few. Information gets passed between those that do know each other. People like the Marquis are the top of the ladder and will call on people as needed."

"So, we don't really have monthly meetings?" he tried to joke.

"No," she chuckled. "You always have the option of refusing to do something asked of you, of course, but I don't think it's ever really been an issue."

Turning, Quatre faced her, her silhouette calmly seated in front of him in the dim lighting. "And what sort of things will be asked of me?"

"Of you? I don't know," she shook her head. "I can't say I don't agree that your position and networking would be valuable to the group but… I'm still very surprised by this," she admitted. "I won't say I like it either," Dorothy whispered.

That surprised him. Walking back, he stood over her, blocking her from the dim moonlight with his shadow. "Why?"

For a moment she didn't say anything, she just looked up at him. Slowly she sighed and shook her head. "This isn't you, Quatre. You're not the type to find any of these dealings necessary. I've known all along that you don't approve of Oracle and think things should just be left to fate. I have a few good guesses as to why the Marquis seemed so very interested in you joining us, but I don't think I understand why you agreed."

Turning back to look outside again, Quatre thought it through again himself. "A lot of reasons. First of all, I was reminded that this isn't the first time I joined a group created by a few extreme idealists. And when it concerns looking after my friends and family, you know that I'd do anything to ensure their safety. It makes sense that this is where I belong, now that I have the option."

"And that decision had nothing to do with realizing just how easy it is for your secrets to be found out?" she only half-curiously questioned.

Glancing back at her, he nodded. "That had a lot to do with it," he admitted.

"Hmm," she nodded. "And secondly?"

"Secondly… the best place to watch an organization is from inside it."

Dorothy chuckled at him for the confession. "Yes, I'll agree to that," she whispered.

With a sigh, Quatre turned back to her and extended his hand to offer it to her. Dorothy took it, and he pulled her from the chair and wrapped her into a hug. "I decided a long time ago that I would never doubt you," he quietly admitted to her ear. "That belief hasn't changed."

"Quatre, you have no need to doubt me. But that doesn't mean you have to follow my path," she returned. "We have never fought the same way. I don't intend to drag you down to my tactics."

He smiled to himself at the idea. No, they had very different styles of combat, but this wasn't a war. "This is only vigilance," he reminded her.

She sighed at him and then turned her face to nuzzle under his ear, getting him to squirm. "What am I going to do with you?"

Pulling away from her to get her to quit, he met her eyes in the dim light. "Anything you want."

And to his surprise, Dorothy shrugged. Leaning in, she pecked a little kiss on his lips and then bumped his nose with her own. "Then welcome to Oracle, Quatre Raberba Winner."


"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand." - Henri Nouwen