Rapiers and Scimitars
By: Figgy
Part Two
Dorothy opened her eyes, wincing as harsh light blinded her momentarily. She restrained a yawn as she slowly sat up, ignoring the pain that shot through her… She'd suffered from worse before. Her eyes darted around the plain hospital room with its one painting… A picture of a girl, her back facing Dorothy, with a dog sitting beside her as they stood in a field of flowers.
She heard a sound and her eyes landed on the sleeping figure curled up in a chair… Not the only figure she soon realized… An extra bed next to her was occupied with another familiar form and Dorothy felt a tightening in her chest, not caused by the bullet. Relena and Quatre…
Tears tried to spill from her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She would not cry… Some habits are hard to break. Instead she lied back down and closed her eyes. God, she was tired… She supposed they had filled her with pain-relievers… Dorothy yawned, her strength ebbing so quickly that she couldn't even raise her hand to cover her mouth… She'd always had good manners… Most of the time, at least.
As she fell into a dreamless slumber, Relena turned and awoke from hers. She slowly sat up in the extra bed and watched the steady rhythm of Dorothy's chest as the blond breathed in and out. This woman was her friend. Relena had lost too many friends, too many people, for her to lose another. She didn't care if she had a meeting today at one… In her entire career she'd never taken a sick day or vacation or any sort of personal time. Well, she'd take it now.
In his chair, Quatre shifted and Relena turned to stare at the man. It hadn't surprised her much to find him already here when she'd arrived… Now, as she stared at him, he didn't resemble the usually calm, kind, well-dressed Winner Executive. His clothes were wrinkled from sleeping in them, his hair stuck out in strange places, and his expression kept shifting between different emotions… She supposed he was having a nightmare from the way his hands clenched the chair's arms.
"Quatre." She whispered, not wanting to wake Dorothy. Relena slowly slid off the bed, wincing as her shoeless feet met the cold floor. "Quatre." Relena placed a hand on his shoulder and gasped as his hand grabbed her wrist and twisted. She found herself on her knees, gasping in pain, before Quatre had even blinked once.
"Relena." He released her, "I'm sorry!"
Relena rubbed her wrist. She couldn't hide her surprise… Though she knew she should have known that underneath it all Quatre could be as strong and pain inflicting as the other ex-pilots… She'd just never seen him fight physically… He was always the strategist behind the other pilots… In some ways it scared her that sweet Quatre could be as dangerous as Heero.
"It's okay, Quatre. You were just surprised. You looked like you were having a nightmare." She smiled comfortingly up at him, deciding that staying on the floor was better than standing right now. She wasn't sure if her legs would support her any way… She supposed realizing that the man you sometimes saw as a brother could easily snap her arm in two could do that to a person. "Want to talk about it?"
Quatre looked away, guilt on his face. "I really am sorry, Relena… Usually I force myself to wake when I have nightmares, but your hand…" He shook his head, "I'm so sorry."
"Quatre, I said it's fine. Look, probably won't even bruise." Relena lied as she showed him her wrist.
He sighed, "Still…"
"Don't make me repeat myself again. Now, do you want to talk about it?"
He turned his gaze toward the sleeping Dorothy, "No… Just the same thing… Guilt, despair, death… We've all had them… Even you."
"Even her." Relena also stared at the sleeping woman. "She spent a week at my house one time." She hugged herself, "I remember, she just suddenly started screaming one night and when I ran to her room… She was curled into a ball and she just kept whimpering…"
Quatre glanced sharply at the Minister, "Are you sure you should be telling me this?"
"You and her are my closest friends, Quatre… I can't lose her… And no one really knows her, not like I do… I suppose, maybe I want someone else to know her like I do… To share it with me, incase… So someone will be able to remember her."
"She's not going to die."
Relena squeezed her eyes shut, "She has a lot of fight in her… But there are things…"
Curiosity, the need to learn everything about this strange, calculating woman, overwhelmed him. "What do you mean?"
"I know that when people look at Dorothy, they see a woman who survived the war and pretty much remained herself… She never seems to show any remorse for what she did… But… That week… I don't know how it happened… Either she cut herself or maybe she got a nosebleed, but she was in the shower and I heard noises… Screams, yells, and I ran inside and she was in the shower trying to wash the blood off, but it just kept bleeding, pooling into her hands… Do you know what she was screaming?"
"It's their blood, Relena… I'll never escape them… Their blood… On my hands…" A soft voice spoke from the bed and their heads jerked toward the sound. Dorothy stared at the two, "Sharing memories of your mutual concern? I'm honored." She smirked and Relena paled.
"I'm sorry, Dorothy. I didn't mean—."
Suddenly the Duchess looked weary. "Don't worry, Relena… I'm not mad… Just tired… I suppose we've all had our dramatic horrors in the years."
"Miss Catalonia?" A nurse walked inside, "You're awake, good." She smiled at Relena and Quatre. "I've brought you breakfast."
"What did the bullet hit?" Dorothy asked, ignoring the food set before her.
"It was lodged near the spine, yet you were lucky, Miss Catalonia. Your nerves suffered no injuries and the bullet was quickly removed." Dorothy frowned at the lack of information and glared at the nurse before raising an arrogant eyebrow at the meal.
The nurse turned toward Quatre and Relena as she checked Dorothy's vital signs. "Are you relatives?"
"No, friends."
She stared at them, "Have you been here before? You two look familiar." She suddenly turned her gaze toward Dorothy. "You, too…" The nurse glanced at her clipboard, "Miss Catalonia…" Her eyes widened, "Dorothy Catalonia?!"
Dorothy ignored the woman who was now realizing who they all were. She made eyes at Quatre for a minute before Dorothy began to make little jabbing remarks that finally set the nurse running from the room. Once the nuisance was gone, Dorothy pushed the meal away. "Not fit for dogs…" She muttered, then closed her eyes.
"Tired, Dorothy?" Relena stood next to the bed and impulsively took Dorothy's hand in her own. "You can sleep… I'm going to grab a cup of coffee and a bagel. We'll try not to disturb you."
Dorothy surprised herself and Relena by squeezing Relena's hand lightly. "Go home, Relena… Both of you. Get some rest, take a shower. I don't need you here… Unless you wish to annoy the nurses with me." She smiled with a hint of mischief, "Though I doubt I'll need any help in that."
"Are you sure, Dorothy?"
"I'm not leaving you." Quatre said stubbornly from his corner of the room.
"Then at least have someone bring you a change of clothes, Mr. Winner. I'm sure this room has a bathroom so you can take a shower. I may have no choice in whether or not you stay, but at least take a shower." She closed her eyes again, "I already feel ill enough without you adding to it."
Quatre blushed, but only Relena saw it. She smiled slightly, glad that Dorothy seemed to be acting normal once again. "You sleep and I'll take your advice." She released Dorothy's hand and walked toward Quatre. "I'll stop by your house and gather some of your essentials."
"And tell the others… The press will swarm you as soon as you're out the door."
"I'll tell as much as I dare to the press and I'll call the others." Relena hugged Quatre, "Take care of her while I'm gone." She whispered in his ear, then with one last bye to Dorothy she was gone.
Silence.
Then Dorothy turned her eyes toward Quatre and raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to just stand there? Be useful and get me some coffee."
"I don't think they want you drinking coffee."
She raised both eyebrows, "Why the hell would I care what they want? I survived the war and worse and drank coffee during it! I want some coffee, damn it!" Dorothy had raised herself up by now and was showing him that if he didn't get it for her, she'd go and get it herself.
Quatre raised his hands in defeat, "Fine, fine. I'll go get you some coffee." He sighed and walked out of the room slowly and Dorothy watched him leave.
Does he feel guilty about me taking the bullet meant for him? She shook her head. Why did I take that bullet? Why? I don't have a death wish like some people. I actually wish to live for quite a few years more before I'm pushing the daisies as some would say. So why risk my life for him? Why? Damn it! Does my body know something I don't?
Quatre returned with two cups and handed her one. Dorothy greedily took the plastic top off and began to blow on the steaming hot coffee. She began to tentatively sip the hot liquid, sighing happily as its warmth coursed through her veins. Dorothy closed her eyes, just enjoying the feeling… Then opened one eye to stare at Quatre who was staring at her.
"It's not polite to stare, Mr. Winner." She smirked as a faint blush colored his cheeks. Dorothy tilted her head to one side. "Will you ever grow out of your sweet innocence, Mr. Winner? You still blush like a fumbling fifteen-year-old."
"I think that blushing will return to anyone, no matter what the age, when in your presence, Miss Dorothy."
She laughed softly at that, "Touché." Dorothy sat the cup of cooling coffee down on the table beside her and faced Quatre once more. "How long have I been sleeping?"
"Not very long… After the party you were brought here and they started surgery immediately. Five hours of surgery then two in the recovery room and finally you were brought here."
"Have they hinted to how long I'll need to stay?"
Quatre ran a hand through his hair, while holding his coffee with the other. "A week, two weeks, a month… They're unclear about that."
"I'm not staying longer than a week. I have things to do in a short amount of time. I cannot leave Romefeller unattended for that long. Many of those men are still finding it hard to understand Relena's ideals. If I leave them alone, my speeches and promises may be forgotten. They could turn against me."
He shook his head, "Even if they did allow you out in a week, you wouldn't be allowed to return to work that soon."
"I'm not stupid, Mr. Winner." She replied harshly, "But if I make just one appearance showing that I am well and just need rest they won't dare turn against me. The very thought that I am out of this hospital will revert them back to sniveling cowards following my orders. Being in the hospital is different from taking a short vacation. A hospital hints at weakness while a vacation hints at strength. A vacation says that I am so sure of my rule that I know I don't have to be there every minute of the hour. They'll be jumping at shadows for weeks."
"Oh… I fear that I do not envy you your job, Miss Dorothy."
She smiled, "I love my job, Mr. Winner. No matter what the consequences and hassles, I do love my job. It is the only thing keeping me sane during these peaceful times… That and fencing competitions."
"You still fence, Miss Dorothy?" Quatre pulled the chair closer to her bed and sat next to her.
"Of course. I practice every day I can. After all, I have a goal to work toward."
"And that would be?"
She laughed and made as if to toss her hair, but frowned as the pillow got in her way. "Humph. Why, my rematch with you, Mr. Winner." Dorothy stifled a yawn and Quatre chuckled.
"I think you need your rest."
She tried to keep her eyes open, but they drifted shut against her will. Dorothy yawned again, then frowned. She tried to open her mouth, but yet another yawn forced its way through and she gave up and Quatre watched as her muscles relaxed and her frown slipped into a peaceful expression. She didn't quite smile, but didn't frown either… She looked calm… Serene.
He leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. For now, all he could do was wait for Relena to bring him his clothes.
*
Relena looked around Quatre's bedroom. She had dodged the reporters, called Lady Une and Lucrezia, and was now in the prospect of packing for Quatre… She thanked Quatre for having a reliable maid that was happily doing the packing for her. Relena just didn't think she could manage to handle Quatre's under things… She blushed at the very idea. He was like a brother to her!
But as Lanetta packed Relena couldn't help but inspect Quatre's belongings. Surprisingly, the room was neat but held few personal belongings… Just a few pictures. She picked one up and smiled slightly. It was a picture of Catherine and Trowa in the middle of their act. Another picture was of her and the Arabian… She gasped and snatched that picture up. It had been taken when she'd visited Quatre for a weekend. She remembered how it had begun to pour while they'd been wandering through his gardens and they'd raced inside… Where Rashid, the usually stoic Maguanac, had snapped a picture of the two drenched leaders.
And here it was sitting on Quatre's dresser. Relena suddenly smiled and placed the photo in its place. A few pictures of Quatre's sisters, another of Trowa, another of Relena, one of Duo and Hilde… She smiled and moved to walk away when something caught her eye… A piece of something was wedged between mirror and frame… Relena reached and carefully pulled the slip out and unfolded the newspaper printing…
And giggled. It was a newspaper clipping of a charity ball that had taken place months, she frowned, maybe even a year ago. A clipping of one Dorothy Catalonia as she left the ball.
"Sweet Quatre." Relena giggled again, "Seems I'm not the only one trying to reach the impossible."
"Miss?"
She dropped the clipping and turned toward the maid. "Oh, I was just talking to myself, Lanetta. Sorry." Relena smiled, "I really can't thank you enough for doing this for me… I just felt uncomfortable looking through his drawers."
"It's fine, Miss Darlian. I understand." Lanetta flashed a grin and snapped the suitcase close. She was a short woman with brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail and a large smile. "And please call me Lanni, all my friends do."
"Lanni… I keep forgetting. Sorry." Relena picked up the suitcase and thanked Lanetta once more before starting down the stairs… She was halfway down them when she heard Rashid greet someone at the door and heels click against the wooden flooring. Relena peered over the railing and watched as a young woman with shoulder-length blond hair smiled as she greeted Lanni who had already descended the stairs before the Minister.
Relena watched as the two women walked off and out of seeing distance. She frowned slightly as she reached Rashid. "Who is she, Rashid?"
The large man glanced down at Relena; "A friend of Lanetta's… Her name is Jezebel Willow."
"Oh…" Relena's frown deepened as she thought to herself. That woman looks so familiar…
*
"Mr. Millardo! You can't! No!" Dorothy shifted on the bed and Quatre blinked sleepily. His cup of coffee sat beside him, cold, and he rubbed a hand over his eyes.
I must have fallen asleep, he thought as he turned worried eyes toward the tossing figure. Dorothy's eyes were clenched shut and her hands gripped the sheets with a viselike hold. Quatre stood and lightly placed a hand over hers, "Dorothy? Miss Dorothy, wake up. It's only a nightmare."
"I didn't mean to! Father!" Her eyes shot open and she breathed heavily, her eyes seemed to see through him not at him as she gasped for air. Her grip loosened on the sheets and she slowly became aware of the hand covering hers. Dorothy looked at Quatre with tight, thin lips, "Mr. Winner."
He lifted his hand; "You were having a nightmare."
Her mouth quirked upward in a sarcastic grin, "Really? I wouldn't have guessed." Dorothy quickly examined the room, "Relena hasn't returned? What time is it?" She glanced at him sharply, "You look clean."
"Relena hasn't returned. She called to say she was trapped in a traffic jam and I am clean. I washed my face, so I suppose I am somewhat clean." Quatre smiled slightly, but only got a glare in return.
"What time is it?"
He glanced at his watch, "6. It's almost dark out."
"Go home, Mr. Winner." Dorothy yawned, "I do not need a babysitter."
"I am staying."
Her eyes narrowed and she regarded him with such intensity that he felt as if she was reading his very soul, "Why, Mr. Winner? Why are you staying with me? Is it because I took a bullet meant for you? I did it for my own plans concerning you." She smirked, "Once those begin to take flight you may begin to wish that you had taken that bullet."
"I doubt that, Miss Dorothy." The smile on his face was as sweet as ever, "I am here for many reasons. That is one, but it is not the main one or even close to the top of the list. I am here because you are a friend and I care for you."
"And I thought you a wise man." She snorted and turned her head away, staring outside the window beside her bed. He was right, the sun was lowering and the sky was tinged with a dusky purple glow.
"I never admitted to being wise or intelligent in the least, but may I ask why you suddenly take back your thoughts of me?" He raised an eyebrow and shifted his weight to one leg, trying to attract her attention back to him.
"Only a fool would dare care for me." Dorothy answered calmly, "I am not to be trusted, I am a politician. Now, Relena I can forgive for caring for me. She is, after all, the world's little dove of peace. She cares for everyone and I never harmed her. I spoke my mind to her, gave her my opinions, but I also listened to hers and even sought to protect her at times. Peace and war co-exist, there must be one for the other to exist which is why I can forgive her, but you? No, Mr. Winner, I cannot call you anything but a fool if you believe you care for me in any manner of the word. I stabbed you, taunted you, intentionally sought to hurt you, and I make no promises that I will never do such a thing again." She turned to stare up at him, "I took a bullet for you because I have plans that involve you and I intend to see them carried out. Now, do you see why I say I once thought you a wise man, but not anymore."
"I see it from one view, but you don't see it from mine. It was war, Miss Dorothy, and it is in the past. We both did terrible things, but now it is time to forgive yet never forget. You were confused, I was confused, and things happened. If you had not stabbed me who is to say that I wouldn't have eventually stabbed you? We will never know and I do not wish to dwell on the past. You are a kind woman, politician or not, and you care for Relena. Not because she is the dove of peace, but because she is your friend. You're not the only one who is finding this peace difficult and strange. I care for you because you are my friend or at least I hope one day you will be."
Dorothy opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say was cut off as the door opened and Relena walked in. The petite Minister heaved a sigh as she dropped Quatre's suitcase beside him. "Lanetta packed it so it should all be there." She seemed somewhat distracted, but smiled at the sight of Dorothy. "How are you feeling, Dorothy?"
"Crowded." The blonde answered sullenly as she burrowed under the covers. Relena laughed and Quatre moved aside to allow Relena to take his place beside Dorothy. He picked up his suitcase and placed it on the empty extra bed and opened it, his hand quickly searching a side pocket.
"Bless you, Lanetta." He smiled as he pulled out his cell phone. Later, he'd call work and have them send what they could to him here. He knew that his sisters could handle the business and if they couldn't Rashid could, but he didn't want to pile more than he had to on them. Quatre paused as soft murmurs reached his ears; Dorothy and Relena were whispering. Vaguely he wondered if Relena would be spending the night again, but he was too tired to ask her. He yawned and lowered his suitcase to the floor and climbed onto the bed. He could sleep a few minutes and then ask her. Really, he could…
*
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Dorothy gritted her teeth together as Quatre continued typing on his damn computer. She was much stronger after three days of being cooped up in this bloody hospital. All those sickeningly sweet nurses asking her if she needed anything while all they did was make calf-eyes at Quatre. Damn women, one had come close to suffocating her because Quatre had come out of the bathroom without a shirt.
Why did the man have to be so disgustingly handsome with his golden skin and blond hair and blue eyes that made the oceans pale in comparison? And so he had filled out over the years, did that mean he had the right to turn her life into a living nightmare?
She didn't think so. Dorothy Catalonia definitely didn't think so.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Her hands gripped the sheets as she refrained from showing how much the sound was irritating her. Oh, no. She wasn't going to give him the opportunity to see her angry. That had happened too many times over the last three days. Way too many times and she didn't like it. Not one little bit.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Huh?" Quatre jerked his head up in surprise as an empty cup hit him in the shoulder. He glanced at the bedridden patient, not completely true seeing as how she was quite capable of getting up and moving about, and raised an eyebrow at her feigned innocence. Dorothy fluttered her eyelashes at him, "Problems, Mr. Winner?"
He sighed at the title, no matter how much he tried to convince her to call him just Quatre she clung to 'Mr. Winner' as stubbornly as a mule. "Seems the wind is a bit strong in here…" He leaned down and picked up the cup. She watched as he stood and carefully placed the cup on the table beside her. "Now, that you have my attention, Miss Dorothy, is there something you need? The nurse maybe?"
Dorothy cringed and answered with a quick, "No!"
Quatre chuckled at her reaction. At times it was so tempting to push the little button for one of her nurses. He didn't understand why she disliked them so much. They seemed so friendly and nice whenever he saw them. "Then what do you need?"
"Nothing from you." She retorted and he grinned.
"Then I guess that means you need something from the nurses." He reached for the button and she slapped his hand.
"Don't you dare." Dorothy glared at him while Quatre just continued to grin. Finally, Dorothy regained her cool expression and smirked at him. "Soon I shall be free of this and you owe me a duel. Are you prepared for that, Mr. Winner?" She sat up and leaned forward and purred, "Are you prepared for me, Mr. Winner?"
Quatre stared at her self-satisfied smile and her fiery blue-gray eyes that had tiny flecks of lavender hidden in their depths and swallowed. He quickly stepped away from the bed and Dorothy's smile widened. "I do not mind fencing with you at all, Miss Dorothy, as long as you keep your promise."
"Promise?" She leaned back and silently added a point for herself. Dorothy – seven, Quatre – six. How could she have known the blond prince was sadistic enough to actually have called those damn nurses in here twice when she'd snapped at him?
"That we wouldn't be trying to kill each other."
"Oh, that promise."
A cat, he realized. She reminded him of a cat cornering an unwary canary.
"Miss Catalonia, time for your walk!" A perky nurse chirped as she nearly skipped into the room. She waited patiently for Dorothy to stand and adorn her yellow robe. Dorothy snorted; of course the woman waited patiently, the longer Dorothy took to get ready the longer the nurse could gawk at Quatre. And the idiotic man tried to make her think he had no idea what the nurses were up to! Ha! Like she believed that.
"I don't need your help." Dorothy snapped as the woman took her arm, "Why don't you just stay here and keep Mr. Winner company?" An evil glint appeared in the Duchess's eyes. "Please? I don't want him to become bored while I wander the hall."
The perky nurse nearly squealed, "Of course!"
Quatre raised an eyebrow as Dorothy fled from the room, leaving him with the perky woman… And after five minutes he began to wish he could take Dorothy's example and flee… It seemed Crystal, for that was her name, never stopped talking except to take a quick breath here and there.
Outside Dorothy allowed herself a quick laugh, "Dorothy – eight, Quatre – six."
*
"I'm sorry, Miss Catalonia, but I just don't feel well about letting you out so soon. If you'd agree to hiring some help, one of the nurses I'm sure—."
"No!" Dorothy quickly interrupted Dr. Williams and the elderly man scratched his head then decided not to question.
"And you've admitted that your family lives too far to help and—."
Once again the Duchess interrupted him, "I have servants; a maid, my butler, and a cook. If I need help I'm sure one of them will be able to use a phone."
"And would you even admit to needing help?"
"I have friends." She announced coldly, "And Jarella would not care if I do pay her or not, if she sees I need help she'd call… She already tries to run my life." Dorothy frowned, as she thought of the temperamental cook.
The doctor hesitated, "Miss Catalonia, I am just not sure that—." He blew out his mustache as she interrupted him once again.
"Trust me."
He stared at the young woman before him, the woman he'd brought into this world so many years ago, had doctored through all her childhood ails, and finally saw what he'd been missing for so many years. He whispered, "Your father would be proud of you, Dorothy."
She showed no outside reaction, but inside she flinched. "Thank you…" Dorothy picked up her bag, Relena had brought it two days earlier, and smoothed a hand down her suede skirt. "Good day, Williams." She moved toward the door, but his voice caused her to halt with one hand on the knob.
"Aren't you going to tell that boy? I heard he left to pick up some food… I doubt he knows what you'd planned."
Dorothy frowned, but kept her back facing the doctor. "You can tell him." She opened the door and walked outside and toward the elevators. She entered one with two nurses and, she guessed, a visitor for another patient. Will you be angry, Quatre, when you find me gone? Or will you forgive me with your usual kindness?
She looked upward at the cold steel ceiling and blinked. I almost wish you'd just once call me a bitch, Mr. Winner, just once… Why can't you be like everyone else? Even Relena has admitted that I can be one at times. Why do you try to hold on to this belief that I'm such a kind, loving person? Well, Mr. Winner, I wasn't lying. You may soon regret that it wasn't you that took that bullet.
The doors opened and Dorothy walked out of the metal box, down the hall, and through the electronic doors. She had a life to regain.
*
"What the hell?" Dorothy slowly stepped out of her car, one hand on the car door. She raised an eyebrow at the car already parked in her usual spot and growled. She recognized that white Porsche, it nearly matched her silver one, and refrained from aiming a kick at the white car. She left her bag in her car and made her way inside her large manor. Her heels clicked across the marble floor in the foyer as she handed her coat to a smiling Robert, her butler. She frowned at him and he quickly wiped the smile away, yet it still lurked in his eyes and her frown deepened.
She walked through her mauve living room with its dark colors and tall fireplace and down the white floor with its Persian rugs and she barely even glanced at the vivid tapestries hanging on the walls. She preferred them instead of paintings. A hunting scene hung over a large mahogany door and she resisted the urge to pause and see if her room was as how she'd left it, instead she paused only to straighten the scene and tilt her head as laughter rang out from somewhere in the house.
Her eyes widened as she recognized the heavy, rich laughter… However, she had only heard it when it was directed at her for having done something idiotic in Jarella's opinion. Dorothy quickened her pace toward the kitchen and soon the laughter grew louder till she reached the doors and shoved her way into the spotless white kitchen with its yellow sunflower designs and copper pots and pans.
And before her eyes she saw Jarella fixing her graying hair as she smiled and laughed at the young man sitting in front of her. Dorothy accepted the scene calmly and merely raised an eyebrow as the two turned to face her. Jarella's smile faded and she frowned at Dorothy.
"You finally decide to come home. Don't even call! Had to find out from the news and that dear sweet girl." Lines creased her forehead, "What's her name?"
"Relena, and nice to see you, too, Jarella." Dorothy moved and winced as the large cook enveloped her in her strong arms.
"Are you okay? Everything's all fine now?"
She was surprised to see true worry and concern in those large blue eyes belonging to the usually harsh and stern woman. "I'm fine, Jarella. Truly."
Dorothy winced as the large woman suddenly smacked her with a wooden spoon. "Then you should've called!"
"I hired you, I can fire you." Dorothy warned, but the woman was already turning away and moving toward a steaming pan. The blond Duchess turned toward the other occupant and sent him a warning look. "What are you doing here, Mr. Winner?"
Quatre smiled up at her as he sipped from his cup of herbal tea. "You left without a word, Miss Dorothy. Quite rude." He lowered the cup back to the white island and tsked, his smile and voice mischievous. "I wanted to see how you were doing, but it seems I arrived before you."
Her eyes widened, "You knew. You knew I was leaving before I even did."
He raised his glass as if giving toast, "I learned from the best at being one step ahead. I feel quite honored at having done so with you of all people, Miss Dorothy, since you were my teacher."
"Damn you, Mr. Winner." She whispered and Jarella shook her spoon at her. Dorothy ignored her cook and turned her full attention toward Quatre and smiled. "Well, Mr. Winner, now that you are here perhaps you would care for that rematch?"
He paled, "So soon after being released from the hospital? Is that wise, Miss Dorothy?"
"Miss Dorothy. Mr. Winner." Jarella mocked and shook her spoon at both, "She is Dorothy Catalonia, not an old maid, and you are a handsome young man named Quatre Winner. Stop acting like your fifty years older!"
Dorothy's voice was cold when she spoke. "You overstep your position, Jarella. This doesn't concern you, however that boiling pot does."
The cook didn't utter another word, but turned to uncover the pan and stir its contents and Dorothy turned to face Quatre once more. "Do you wish to stay for dinner, Mr. Winner?"
Quatre tore his eyes away from the now silent cook. "I don't wish to be a problem…"
Dorothy stood from where she'd been sitting beside him and smirked. "Every human is a problem in someway or the other, Mr. Winner. I see no reason why you should be any different. I'm sure Robert or Marilene will be happy to show you around the house while I unpack." She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Quatre to stare after her.
"She be a cold one at times." Jarella spoke as soon as the click of Dorothy's heels slowly disappeared. "I've worked for her family for years. My grandmother worked for her great-grandmother, and my mother worked for her grandmother, and I worked for her mother and her… She was such a kind little child…" She sighed, "You should have met her then, sir. You and she would have been such nice playmates. She loved her father very much and when he died…" Jarella turned to him, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "He took a part of her with him when he died… She grew up so fast and never really had a chance to be a child, but then again," sharp eyes rested on him, "I doubt you ever had such a chance either."
Quatre didn't answer, but raised the tea to his lips. His response came after so much time had passed that Jarella jumped at the sound of his voice. "I think you're wrong, Jarella… I do not think we would have made good playmates if I had met her younger… I wasn't a nice boy when I was young." He stood and frowned at the empty glass. "I wasn't a kind little child… Not at all."
Dorothy entered her room and for once didn't admire the dark sandalwood desk or the four poster bed. She walked across the rich dark red carpet and picked up a portrait on her desk. She ran a finger along the image; a little girl laughing as she clung to her daddy's neck and he was smiling as he reached back to tickle her… She sighed and lowered the picture and her eyes narrowed as she saw the envelope.
Carefully, she lifted the letter, feeling for any hidden objects but it held only a letter. She opened it and smiled slightly. "So, Collie was here. Jarella didn't mention that, thank God. All I need is him asking questions about her." Dorothy's eyes ran over the letters contents and her smile slowly faded. "Trouble? What sort of trouble could she possibly be involved in? Unless…" She closed her eyes and her hands tightened on the sheet of paper. "Unless it's because of me." Her eyes opened and she tossed the letter down. "I warned her and like that fool in the kitchen she didn't listen. If she's in trouble because of her knowing me then it's her fault and she'll have to save her own skin."
Yet she couldn't erase the frown on her face as she sat down on her bed. Why won't he go away? She turned toward the picture and picked it up and lied back, holding it before her face. "I'm becoming as bad as Relena, talking to things and people no one see but me… I saw her talking to a picture of her father once. But she seemed so peaceful afterwards, even when she realized I'd overheard…" Dorothy closed her eyes, "But that's Relena's talent. She's peace, I am war. One cannot exist without the other."
What is Quatre then? Is he peace or war? Can one be both?
"I wonder," she hugged the picture, "what were you, father? Peace or war?" She chuckled as an idea came to her, "Mayhap, you were a soldier of peace."
Her eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling, "Like Quatre…"
*
"Jarella," Dorothy stopped the cook as she moved to leave the dining room. The Duchess knew that Quatre already sat at the large table, waiting for her to join him, but she had to know something first. "When did Collie stop by?"
The older woman frowned, "That girl stopped by yesterday. Stormed inside and left something in your room and ordered us not to disturb it as if she ran this household!"
"Be quiet, woman." Dorothy ordered sternly, "Collie is a close acquaintance and you will treat her with respect." She frowned, "Did she seem… worried?"
"Worried? She acted as if she were a queen! Worried?! Ha!" Jarella moved past Dorothy to enter the kitchen and the blond shook her head.
As if she would show worry before Jarella and the others… Dorothy shoved the door open and walked calmly into the dining room and stopped in mid-step as Quatre stood and pulled out the chair at the head of the table and motioned for her to sit. Robert smiled at the act, nodding his approval as Dorothy slowly sat down and Quatre sat by her.
"I'm surprised, Mr. Winner, that you didn't take the chance to see how your business is doing." She stabbed at her salad and chewed slowly, thoughtfully as she assessed him.
"I trust my sisters to be handling things skillfully and they have my number incase I'm needed." He answered, ignoring his own salad. His own appetite was slowly disappearing as he watched her stab and attack her salad so viciously… He could imagine her being as ruthless in their rematch. Quatre paled and pushed the thought out of his head.
"Ah, unfortunate that I have no one I trust so well." She shook her head in mock sadness; "It would be nice to not worry about someone trying to stab a financial knife in my back." Dorothy smirked, "But then again, it wouldn't be as interesting a life either."
"Well…" Quatre was saved from saying any more as Jarella and Marilene came out with the main dish and quickly left. He breathed in the smell of spiced chicken breast and eagerly set to eating. His appetite had returned with the scent of the well-prepared food.
Dorothy delicately cut the meat and placed each, single bite into her mouth, savoring the taste. "Is anybody waiting for you at home, Mr. Winner? I wouldn't want you to be late for anyone of importance. You've already spent too much time watching over me." She scowled at that, showing him how much she cared for his 'watching'.
"No one, but Rashid and he knows I am here."
Dinner continued in silence as both became enwrapped in their own thoughts. It was only the clearing of Robert's throat for the third time that brought the two to the present. Quatre glanced at his watch and his eyes widened, "I'm sorry, Miss Dorothy, but I really must be going. I do have a few things to attend to tomorrow, as do you, I presume."
She stood along with him, "Do not presume too much, Mr. Winner." Dorothy warned as she walked him to the front door, ignoring the maid as she took the plates away. Dorothy continued walking with him till they reached his car and Quatre turned toward her with a smile.
"Miss Dorothy, I thank you for the wonderful meal. Jarella is quite a chef and the company was delightful." His innocent blue eyes smiled warmly at her and Dorothy returned it with an arrogant grin.
"Quite all right, Mr. Winner. I'm glad you enjoyed the evening and wish you a safe journey home. Goodnight."
He nodded and climbed into his car then frowned. "Miss Dorothy… Your car…"
She turned and the night hid her angry flush as she realized her Porsche was blocking his from leaving the driveway. "Sorry, I'll move it now. Just wait a minute." Dorothy moved toward the car and nearly slipped in a puddle of… something… Quatre, who had left his car, caught her and straightened her out. She muttered under her breath as she continued to move while Quatre kneeled beside the dark puddle.
He breathed in deeply and a frown marred his features. "Gasoline…" Ignoring his fine, well made clothes he lied down and edged his way under his car and his eyes widened. "The gas line. Someone cut the gas line!" He shoved out and stood, "But why? Why cut— Miss Dorothy!"
Dorothy raised her head from where she'd been about to turn the keys and stared at him as she lowered her window. "What is it, Mr. Winner?"
"Get out of the car."
"Excuse me?"
"Get out of the car!" Quatre yanked the door opened and grabbed her arm in a tight grip, yanking her away from the silver Porsche. "Someone cut my gas line and I suspect—."
An explosion cut through the air and the two were thrown back as glass rained down on them and fires licked at their clothes. Quatre patted the few flames on Dorothy's skirt out and the two stared at the ruins of her car and his. Glass had slashed little cuts across both their faces and some clung to her blond hair, but otherwise they remained unharmed.
"The gas… Leaking from my car and the explosion…" He explained, but she wasn't paying attention to his words. Instead she stared at him with thoughtful eyes and arrogant lips.
"It seems, Mr. Winner, that someone is out to kill you at any and all costs." She smirked, "You owe me a silver Porsche."
*
I know I should be working on Dawn and Moon Wars, and I am!, but I just got a burst of inspiration (Thanx to Jen for having a Porsche-fetish!) for this story and had to write it down! The next chapter for D&M will be coming out soon! I promise! Till then, ciao!!
Figgy