Mariemaia can feel the passing time like an itch she can't reach. It crawls under her skin, prickles behind her knees and at the base of her neck. She lies along the smooth stones above the fish pond, taps her fingers against the sandstone and watches the shimmering scales dart back and forth. Miss Relena and Dorothy continue to speak quietly to each other, their voices a soft susurration in the warm conservatory. She hears soft footsteps against the smooth cobblestones.

"This must be boring for you," Quatre Winner states. He hovers at her shoulder, voice pitched low. "May I join you?"

"Isn't it your hotel?"

She rests her chin on a bent arm to study him. Quatre offers her a small smile, slightly self-effacing, slightly amused. "I hate to presume my welcome."

Mariemaia lifts one shoulder, turns her attention back to the darting fish. She lets her other hand dip into the cool water. "Do what you like."

It's another few seconds before Quatre takes a seat next to her. He sighs as he sits and she flicks her eyes toward him once more as he rolls his neck in circles, frowning slightly in discomfort. He's lost the suit jacket somewhere, and his tie, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up. Mariemaia can catch faint flashes of silvered skin, pocked like fish scales, on the arm closest to her when he lifts his hand to run it through unkempt hair with a wide yawn. He catches her watching, gives her a wane smile and lowers his arm.

"It's been a long day," he says simply.

"What happened with Minister Yergin?" she asks. "Is he dead?"

Quatre shakes his head. "I don't know." She frowns at him, disbelieving. "He had begun his speech when he took a drink and a few moments later he was on the floor convulsing."

Mariemaia glances away, back to the fish swimming in the pond. "He may just be sick."

"He may."

"Are you boring my dear cousin to sleep?" Mariemaia startles at the closeness of Dorothy's voice. Quatre reaches out, grasping her arm to keep her from falling into the fish pond. She hears a delighted laugh and looks up to see Dorothy watching her attentively. She holds a plate of fruit in one hand and her heels dangle from her other hand. "So you got rounded up as well, hm?"

"Lady Une said everyone would be questioned." She pushes herself up into a seated position, stretching the tightness out of her shoulders. Relena is across the room, chatting with the Preventer agent. It's the ditzy version of her, the one Mariemaia has seen her put on at parties when speaking to older delegates. Hair twirls and big blue-green eyes. "What is Miss Relena doing?"

"Trying to buy our freedom," Dorothy sighs. She sits down on the retaining wall, forcing Quatre Winner to shift a couple inches over to give her room. "Thank you," she says, flashing him a smile. Mariemaia can't tell if it's real or contrived. Quatre just smiles and shakes his head, reaches over to pluck a strawberry from her plate. "Uh, uh, Mr. Winner," she tuts. One of the plastic sword picks slaps the back of his fingers. "Where are your manners?"

"My apologies, Miss Dorothy," he replies pleasantly. He takes one of the sword picks, stabs it into the strawberry he'd been aiming for.

"Good," she says. "I'd hate to be forced into a rematch."

Quatre's mouth ticks up on one corner, a mirror to the expression her cousin is wearing. "No," he says. "We wouldn't want that."

Mariemaia watches the exchange, perplexed. She feels like she's missing a large portion of text, like the chapter she's reading has jumped from the first page to the last with nothing in the middle. Dorothy stabs a blackberry, juice oozing from the wounded fruit, and pops it into her mouth. She offers the plate to Mariemaia with a raised eyebrow.

"Thank you," Mariemaia murmurs. She picks a few pieces free and ignores the steady stare from her cousin.

Miss Relena rejoins them, mouth set in a displeased moue and eyes rolling. Quatre Winner laughs softly, shaking his head and Dorothy flips her hair over her shoulder. "I told you Zechs would pay Une to keep you locked up rather than let us go."

Relena sighs forlornly. She takes a strawberry from the plate, deftly avoiding the smack of Dorothy's sword pick. "Well, I was hoping Noin would talk sense to him." She bites into the strawberry. "My luck she was out on patrol."

Dorothy rolls her eyes. "Honestly, the least Yergin could have done is die quickly. This is ridiculous."

"Dorothy," Relena groans, glancing at the Preventer at the door. Mariemaia can't suppress her giggles, sees Dorothy smile at her. "You're both terrible," Relena states.

/

Mariemaia does end up dozing off at one point, tiring of listening to Dorothy complain, Quatre placate, and Relena hypothesize. She wakes to late afternoon light spilling in through the glass ceiling of the conservatory and Relena's hand on her shoulder. The Vice Foreign Minister offers her a small smile, brushes the bangs off her forehead.

"Our turn," she says.

Mariemaia yawns, sits up from where she had curled up on one of the benches. She frowns at the suit jacket that slides off of her shoulder and falls to the floor. Relena stoops, picks it up and shakes it out.

"You looked cold," she comments.

Mariemaia gets to her feet wordlessly, follows Miss Relena to where Dorothy and Quatre are chatting with the Preventer. Quatre takes the suit jacket from Miss Relena, slides it on over his shirt and waistcoat without breaking his debate with Dorothy on some pacifist book. Mariemaia yawns again, catches Dorothy's amused glance. They're lead down one hall and then another until they reach an open door. The agent who had been in the conservatory with them, gestures toward the door, steps to the side to allow them entrance.

Lady Une is seated at the head of a conference table, notes spread around her. She nods to the agents at the door and they pull the door shut. Mariemaia can't help but snort at how ominous all of this is. Lady Une glances up at her, gestures to the seats around the table.

"Well, this is all pretentious," Dorothy states. She lounges in one of the available chairs and kicks her heels off under the conference table. "I thought Preventers would be happy if Yergin was taken out."

"How is Minister Yergin?" Relena questions. She perches primly on a chair and looks attentively at Une.

Quatre offers her the choice of the remaining chairs. Mariemaia chooses one closer to Lady Une and Quatre takes the remaining one next to Dorothy. Mariemaia studies her guardian, notes the line between her eyebrows, the way she keeps catching herself reaching for her forehead belying the headache she would deny if Mariemaia asked.

"There are some questions all attendees are being asked," she says finally. She slides a recording device onto the table, flips a page in her notebook.

"Oh, honestly, is this really necessary?" Dorothy huffs.

"I'm sure Lady Une is simply following procedures, Miss Dorothy," Quatre states. His voice is pleasant enough, but Mariemaia can detect something hard beneath it. Dorothy must as well because she doesn't protest. "Of course we will cooperate to our fullest ability."

"Thank you, Mr. Winner," Lady Une states. She presses a button on the recorder. "This is Lady Une, it is now nineteen-hundred. I am interviewing Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian, Miss Dorothy Catalonia, Miss Mariemaia Khushrenada, and Mister Quatre Raberba Winner."

Mariemaia listens attentively as one-by-one they each give their accounts of the incident during Minister Yergin's speech on behalf of the Trade Federation. Miss Relena goes first. Her voice is measured, controlled. It's the performance one Mariemaia usually associates with the speeches she gives in front of the ESUN. It reminds her of when her army had abducted Miss Relena five years ago. She can see the wheels turning behind her eyes, though her face gives nothing away.

"Minister Yergin was discussing the shipments that had gone missing over the past few months. He was appealing to the delegation to launch a full investigation, primarily focused on old and abandoned resource satellites from the war." Miss Relena pauses, frowns slightly. "I was distracted when he fell, but I saw the convulsions. They were terrible."

"And what happened then?"

"One of his aides and a guard from his personal security came on stage to assist him. Preventers took charge after that."

Dorothy's voice drips like honey, sweet and slow, but her smile is bitter and her eyes are bright. Mariemaia hasn't spent a lot of time with her cousin over the years, and never anything like this. Dorothy wears disdain like aristocrats wear diamonds. It's there in the careful way she folds her hands on the table, in the tilt of her chin, the curve of a smile, but you only notice it when the light catches, shines on the hint of teeth and the mirth in her eyes. Mariemaia shifts unconsciously in her seat, posture mirroring Dorothy's as best she can.

"Minister Yergin has made plenty of bold claims these past months over these so-called missing shipments," Dorothy states. "He's hoping now that the shipment from L2 went missing that Preventers would step up and launch a full investigation into the missing supplies." She laughs, high and sharp like breaking glass. "It's almost as if he's expecting another war to materialize on his front doorstep."

"Miss Dorothy, focus, please."

"Of course, my apologies, Colonel." Mariemaia sees the way Lady Une frowns at Dorothy. Miss Relena rests her chin in her hands and sighs while Quatre Winner dips his chin and smiles at the table. "Minister Yergin had a glass of water placed on the podium before the start of the speech. He drank from it several times before the convulsions caused him to drop it and fall to the ground."

"And then?"

"And then his people rushed to help him. I suppose we've them to thank for their quick thinking "Or maybe not?" She quirks an eyebrow at Lady Une. Lady Une's expression remains impassive. "One of the guards rolled him to his side. The attendees were a mess, of course. Oliver Phelps actually believed the Minister had been shot. Poor man." She laughs again, rolls her eyes. "In the chaos I'm afraid I'm not sure whether the Minister was removed by his own staff or Preventers. But when I saw the stage again, he was gone."

Quatre Raberba Winner is pleasant and polished. He has the crisp, clipped consonants of the L4 colonies even though he's soft-spoken. He offers faint smiles and ducks his head when he's unsure or self-conscious. Mariemaia watches him the closest. Everything seems a tad too genuine, a bit too practiced. It reads like an act but Mariemaia can't figure out why.

"I'm not sure what else I can add that Miss Dorothy and Vice Foreign Minister Darlian haven't touched on," he says. He offers a wry smile and Mariemaia doesn't believe him. There's an intelligence in his eyes that doesn't match the self-effacing persona he wears. Where Dorothy shines, Quatre is all shadows.

"I'm sure whatever you have to tell will be worthwhile, Mr. Winner."

Quatre's mouth twists into another smile. He leans forward, rests his forearms on the tabletop. "Minister Yergin dropped the glass before the convulsions started," he states. Mariemaia sees Lady Une look up at that, pen poised over her paper. Quatre's mouth is a thin line and Mariemaia leans forward a little despite herself. "Whatever he had ingested caused his fingers to lose their grip and begin twitching."

He looks at home, Mariemaia thinks. It's the first time she's thought it about him. Like he's in his element. The veneer of polite formality has washed away and he's got a calculating look to his eye. There's a strange gravitas to him. She sees Relena watching him as well, brow furrowed slightly. Dorothy has pulled a nail file out and is busy filing her nails, eyes darting occasionally to Quatre with something almost like respect in her expression. It's a strange look on her cousin's face. Even Lady Une looks like she's addressing an equal and not another silly delegate. Mariemaia frowns, studies the tableau before her. She's a few pieces short of a jigsaw puzzle, she thinks.

"You could see that from where you were seated?"

"Yes. What I found interesting is that he didn't seem to notice the twitching at first. He kept on until he lost his grip on the glass. I thought he was perhaps unwell." Dorothy mouths something silently that Mariemaia can't catch. Evidently Quatre does because his mouth quirks into a fond smile and he shakes his head at her. "The guard who assisted him…" he pauses, glances at the recording device. "He was taken into custody by Preventers."

"He's being questioned as well."

Quatre nods, sits back in the upholstered chair. He looks younger, Mariemaia thinks. And tired. She looks around the table. They all look tired, she realizes.

"That's all I can really add," Quatre states with a sigh. "Miss Dorothy was correct, after the Minister fell the audience erupted into chaos. The Vice Foreign Minister was almost knocked over by the group from L2."

"It was an accident, Quatre," Relena says softly.

"Regardless, it distracted me. I didn't see what happened after." Lady Une studies Quatre intently for a moment, eyes steady and pen hovering above the notepad. Quatre Winner stares back guilelessly. He offers a pleasant, polite smile. "I'm afraid I have nothing further to add at this time. I will, of course, let you know if I remember anything else."

"Of course, Mr. Winner." Lady Une turns then to her, brown eyes tired and a bit sympathetic. Mariemaia feels the automatic bristling under the pitying stare. "Miss Khushrenada, what can you tell me about the time between fourteen-hundred and fifteen-hundred?"

Mariemaia frowns. "I wasn't at the conference."

"You were in the conference hall before Minister Yergin took the stage."

"Yes…" She glances at the red light and microphone on the recorder. "I was sitting with Vice Foreign Minister Darlian…and Mr. Winner." She sees Relena give her a reassuring smile out of the corner of her eye. "It was stuffy with all of the delegates. I decided to take a walk and get some air. Minister Yergin's speeches are always the same anyway."

Dorothy grins like a misbehaving schoolgirl.

"And where did you go, on your walk?"

Mariemaia glances sharply at her guardian, but Lady Une has her bland, professional face on. "Upstairs. I wanted to see the pool deck." Lady Une marks something down on her notepad. "One of your agents found me," she added. "He escorted me back."

She doesn't mention the access ways they took, or the comment about Trowa Barton. She doesn't relay the conversation about idealism. Instead, she meets Lady Une's steady gaze with one of her own.

"And you didn't see anyone?"

"I hardly think anyone wanting to kill Minister Yergin would hang out on the pool deck," she comments. "He wasn't poisoned with chlorine was he?"

"Thank you, Miss Khushrenada." Lady Une leans over, presses a button on the recorder.

"I hate to agree with Miss Dorothy, but this is preposterous," Quatre Winner states as soon as the red light is extinguished. "You have to know that."

"And if I don't treat each and every delegate as a suspect, what do you think Minister Yergin will say when he's regained consciousness?" Lady Une barks.

"So he hasn't died then? Pity."

"Dorothy." Relena shoots the blonde girl a reproachful look before turning wide, appealing eyes at Lady Une. "I heard a rumor that Trowa-"

"A rumor?" Lady Une asks, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

Relena shrugs, unrepentant. "Is it true?"

"It's still being determined," Lady Une replies.

"Who's doing the interviewing?" Quatre Winner questions. "Is it you or…?"

Lady Une's expression softens slightly. "You know I can't give you specifics."

Quatre tilts his chin up, eyebrow raising as he sits back in the upholstered chair. "Can't you?" He glances pointedly at the darkened recording device.

Lady Une huffs a laugh. She flips a page in her notebook. "The next group will be here shortly, so no, I can't." She casts an amused eye over the four of them. Her eyes linger on Mariemaia before returning to Quatre Winner. "Somehow, I'm sure you'll get the information you want."

"So, we're free to go now?" Dorothy questions. "While the fruit was lovely, whoever decided egg salad finger sandwiches were an adequate snack in an indoor jungle should be fired. I'm starving."

"Yes, you are free to return to your rooms." She glances at Quatre again. "You're sure the tremors started before the glass fell?"

"Positive," Quatre replies.

"Would you like to come back to the suite with me?" Relena questions, standing next to Mariemaia. She offers her a smile. "We could order room service. It looks like Lady Une may be busy for a while."

Mariemaia hesitates. She doesn't want to be around Relena Darlian and her sympathetic looks and misplaced idealism. But, she also wants to be close enough to gain any useful information her guardian won't pass on to her. She stares at the Vice Foreign Minister for a moment.

"Alright," she says. She casts a belated look at her guardian. "Is that alright?"

Lady Une looks up from her notes. She's put her glasses on, a sure sign that her thoughts are on the case and not the people still lingering in her makeshift office. "Yes." She glances at Relena. "Thank you."

"Of course." Relena links an arm through Mariemaia's before Mariemaia can sidestep it. She smiles down at her. "It'll be fun. Quatre, Dorothy, you'll join us of course?"

"As you wish," he replies with a small bow. He holds the door open for them and Mariemaia can feel his gaze on her. She doesn't know what to make of him. He's like a shark. Sleek and graceful and calculating.

"As long as we can get a decent meal," Dorothy states. She glances over, clear blue eyes finding Mariemaia's. "Smile, dear cousin. No one's died yet."

"Dorothy!"