Relena pushed the QUATRE button on her speed dial and put the receiver to her ear.  The ride from the gate to the hotel where they were holding the press conference was a few minutes—long enough for her to harass Dorothy about not going to see poor Quatre in two days. There was a ring, then a second, then a third.  Rashid picked up the phone.

            "Winner Residence. This is Rashid."

            "Rashid, hi, it's Relena. May I speak to Dorothy please?"

            "She's stepped out."

            "Oh, does she have her cell phone?"

            "No, she went to see Master Quatre."

            "Oh, ok. Well, I didn't really want anything, just tell her I called."

            "Will do."

            Relena hung up.  She looked at her watch.  It was nearly nine o'clock were Quatre and Dorothy were.  Something wasn't right.

            The press conference lasted a while longer that she had anticipated, but her chauffeur waited patiently.  She got into the front seat of her car.  Heero grinned at her from the driver's side.

            "Thanks for coming to get me, babe." She kissed him.

            "No prob," he shrugged.  They drove to a hotel.  Heero walked Relena to her room before adjourning to his own.  Relena called Quatre. 

            "Hello," Quatre sounded just as happy as ever.

            "Hi, Quat," Relena smiled at the sound of his happiness. "Still feeling good?"

            "Yeah, glad you called.  I'm actually feeling great.  Did you call Dorothy?"

            "I did before the conference, but she'd gone to see you."

            Quatre paused. "Today?"

            "Yes."

            "She never came today.  I was waiting and waiting and she never came."

            "But Rashid told me she went to see you when I called."

            "She never came." The words began to sting Relena's heart. Quatre was getting worried as well.

            "That's three days Quatre.  She could be declared missing."

            Quatre's heart pained. "But…where in the world could she be?"

            "I don't know."

            "I'm calling the house. Something's not right."

            "I thought you couldn't make outgoing calls."

            "I'm out of the psych ward. I'll get right back to you."

            Quatre hung up. Relena did, slowly.

            Quatre waited three rings. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Answering machine. He hung up and called again, almost dialing the wrong number in a panic. Four rings. Five. Someone picked up. He breathed half of a relieved sigh, when the voice greeted him:

            "The number you have reached has been changed to a non-published number.  The number you have reached has been changed to a non-published number."

            The message repeated about seven times before Quatre slowly hung up the phone.  What in the hell is going on?  Quatre dialed Relena.

            "Hello?"

            "Relena, I've got to call the police.  My number has been changed. And I didn't change it."

            "Wait Quatre, let's not jump to conclusions."

            "Relena, I'm scared for Dorothy. She hasn't come. She hasn't called. Nobody can get her. And now my number's changed. I've got to get help."

            "Okay, I think I'm going to come, too."

            "Oh, no you don't—"

            "Hush. Dorothy is my friend, and so are you. If you're suffering, so am I. I'll catch a shuttle tomorrow."

            "Okay Relena," Quatre accepted with a smile. "Thanks."

            "It's no problem, really."

            Quatre called the police.  They promised to have an officer at the residence within fifteen minutes. 

            The doorbell rang at the Winner estate.  Rashid answered it.

            "Yes?"

            "Good evening, I'm officer Robert Quaeler. I'm here on behalf of Quatre Winner. Is anything wrong?"

            "No, no there most certainly isn't. I don't know why he continuously does this sort of thing. I swear he calls me in the middle of the night and threatens my safety as well as my life.  He's crazy. This isn't even his house."

            "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr…"

            "Winner. Quatre Winner. The psycho that keeps calling me thinks he is me."

            "Alright, we'll look into those calls, sir."

            "Thank you."

            "Have a good night, sir."

            "You too."