Author's Note: In this chapter the shit had hit the fan. Things are starting to get back to the main story. Not a very good chapter in my opinion, but it does kind of start the forward motion. Of course, Review! Review! Review!!!!

Disclaimer: Damn The Man! I don't own Gundam Wing

Chapter 8

Marimeia stood at her vanity mirror smiling candidly; everything seemed to be working out fine. The plans were all in order, except the whereabouts of the five Gundam pilots and Relena Peacecraft. She's had her investigators check at the various places that the men worked during peacetime and they came back with nothing. No one knew that whereabouts and this was nerve wracking. A soft knock at her door tore her attention away from the mirror and she beckoned the person come in.

"My Lady, we have the young Barton with us just waiting to make a statement." It was Shelby and he was smiling from ear to ear. It was about time that he'd something right and getting the young love child of Roddy and Trowa was more than Marimeia could have asked for. What better bait for the usually stoic Gundam pilot.

"When do I make the statement?" she said in an almost childish voice, a frightening smile on her face.

"In less that fifteen minutes. The TV crew and cameras are all set up and waiting for you. You are the star of the hour, my lady."

"How do I look Shelby?" she asked, turning her attention back to the mirror and giving her appearance the once over.

"Like the leader of the new free world my lady. More mature and more beautiful than any other woman that has every ruled."

"Prettier than Peacecraft?"

"She has nothing on you, my lady." Shelby embellished. Marimeia smiled contentedly and turned back to face Shelby.

"I'm ready for my close up."

****

Roddy, Hilde, Duo, Quatre, and Trowa were wrapped around the old TV in the living room awaiting the speech from Democratic Representative headquarters. Of all the institutions that Marimeia had destroyed in her now, going on 120-hour reign she's decided to leave the media and all of its lies. She'd held more than seventeen press conferences since her first day coming to power and this was to be her state of the new nation, what she called the Free World Nation or FWN.

The five watched the TV as the many Democratic Representatives set up for their leader. There was clapping and hand shaking and smiles plastered broadly on the various faces in the crowd. Roddy winced inwardly, thinking that she too could have been apart of this coup or could have been dead. Without further wait, Marimeia appeared on the screen followed by Representative Shelby and two other people, whom Trowa assumed were bodyguards by their dark suits and earphones. The young redhead was met with a loud roar of cheers that quickly died down when she stepped to the podium and was ready to speak.

"My fellow Representatives, we have come to a point where we have truly lived out the dream of our forefathers. Without little help we have removed all traces of the malicious, dangerous, even contagious Peacecraft regime. The only small problems that we have left are the Gundam pilots, who have contaminated our history with unaccustomed lies. We must ask ourselves, do we really want men who are trained killers to be considered war heroes for years to come? That is what the Peacecraft regime wants. These boys were taken from the streets and made into killers only to satisfy the lusty needs of the old regime and to combat our most wonderful leader Treize Khushrenada. Not only did they kill and ambush him, they brought Relena Peacecraft to power. I ask you, how can such a peaceful woman come to power by such unmerciful terms? She can't, this is why we are taking this back away from the Pacifist and into the right hands of the owners. We tolerate no substitution nor do we tolerate traitors like Roddy Aldephia." Marimeia motioned for them to bring Gus out into the forefront; Roddy took a deep breath almost so deep that she started to hyperventilate.

"Roddy Adelphia, traitors are handled accordingly. Your son is here and waiting for you." A large smile spread across Marimeia's face and the transmission ended. Roddy stood quickly from her chair and ran up the stairs followed by Trowa. He caught her in the stairwell, grabbing her shoulders and stopping her flight.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, pushing his hands off of her.

"Calm down."

"Screw you, I'm going to get my son. I don't care what the risk."

"You can't, it's too dangerous."

"If I don't, then who will?" Tears threatened her eyes.

"I will." Trowa said calmly, "it's me she wants."

"What makes you think that I trust you?" Roddy asked, turning around and walking away. Trowa stood on the top of the stairwell and watched her leave. She was determined and he knew that she'd get herself killed, but she didn't want his help and he knew it. But he had to atone for how he'd wronged her, he had to forgive himself for how he'd hurt his family, he would help her get their son back.

****

Quatre had been standing outside of her door for more than ten minutes now. She hadn't come out since that night, taking her dinners in the room and avoiding him completely. Why was he here? Why was he standing here waiting to talk to someone that he couldn't possibly care about? She was in his mind haunting him like a pale ghoul. He couldn't sleep at night for thoughts of her, her kiss, her touch, her warmth, her words. She spoke to him of love, something he'd not thought about, ever. In war there was no love, only pain, at least for him that was true. When he looked around him he realized that he was the only one that hadn't found anyone, but that was not his trouble. He was troubled more deeply and scarred worse than any broken heart could imagine. His soul, there lay the hole that emptiness and he knew not why he was lonely, only that he was. He was bold, knocking on the door before he could convince himself otherwise. There was no answer. In an even bolder attempt, he pushed down on the door handle, testing the lock; it was open. He pushed the door open slowly, so as not to alarm her if she was in there. He inched inside of the room, closing the door behind him.

The room was cool and dark, pale, lace curtains flowing in the warm breeze of the open window. The room held a strange eeriness that he couldn't seem to shake. The room seemed haunted with doting pasts and frightening memories; a traumatized room, one of many in his mansion. The bed was made; crisp white sheets stretched tautly over a soft mattress and were covered by a soft, white, goose down comforter. The room had been emptied for some time. He walked over to the bed, sliding his hand over the tall, oak, bedposts and closing his eyes. His pale digits wrapped around the hardwood and he inhaled the scent of the room. Of course, the customary smell of honeysuckle that made its way into all desert homes was in full force in this room, but there was something more, something that he recognized. He walked over to the side of the bed, the side he knew that she'd slept on. His hand grazed the top of the soft comforter, feeling the velvety fabric sensually underneath his digits. He stopped and lowered himself onto the bed, engulfing her smell into his senses. She smelled like fresh ginger, a scent that he would have thought too pungent or too obscene on some women, but on Dorothy it was just right.

The smell evoked memories of the night prior, when he'd smelled that scent personally; when he'd been swallowed up and almost drowned in her. He'd almost lost his sensibilities with her. The last time he'd lost his sensibilities, he'd destroyed a colony and couldn't forgive himself. He rolled over onto his stomach, and lay his head on her pillow, closing his eyes and envisioning the way she looked when she lay under him. He remembered her pale skin, her warm sighs, the feeling of her lips, and the taste of her. For the past few days he couldn't get her out his mind and he hated it. He curled up into a fetal position and tensed, trying to rid his mind of that sultry night. Once the images were gone, he opened his eyes, the illusion becoming a horizon line of white comforter. Yet, there was one thing that caught his eye, in this sea of white; a single, golden, strand of hair lay on the pillow next to him. He picked up the strand, holding it like it meant everything to him. He wanted to lay there forever, but he had to get out of her room, lest she come back and find him. Where was she? He hopped from the bed, straightening his slacks and the bed sheets back to perfection and started to exit the room. Before he could make it to the door, a small, white envelope caught his eye. The object was lying on the pine desk that was in the right corner of the room. His eyes narrowed and he walked towards the writing table and picked up the letter. The envelope had his name on it and was definitely her handwriting. He picked up the small, sterling silver letter opener and opened the letter:

Dear Quatre,

My heart feels like lead when I look into your eyes and see nothing but sadness. I know that sadness, it used to burn within my heart like a raging forest fire. I've never told anyone this, but my encounter with you on the Libra was the single most changing moment of my life. In that moment I realized that I was inherently good and that I could be good and be strong at the same time. Kindness never means weakness, Quatre. The kind were put on this earth to help love and protect the weak. You too are inherently good and loving, by very nature you are.

When I see you, I see myself those seven years ago. After our first contact, I fell into a depression and had to be hospitalized. There were many times that I couldn't see how fortunate I was just to be alive after the war. I was so ashamed with my actions that I couldn't face anyone, not even myself. In this time, I took it upon myself to end my suffering. My vanity, being too much, I took a whole bottle of sleeping pills and washed it down with vodka; I didn't want to live. I couldn't live with all the things that I had done; I was alone. During my hospitalization, I started to realize my self-worth; through just a few small, kind, words I started to realize what you meant when you said that I was kind.

It is a cruel world that treats the kind people coldly, causing their souls to dry up and die so that they can be just as cruel. I know what you're feeling now; you think that you have to be angry, that the world needs to be reckoned with. This is why you retreat, why you run and hid away form the world, in the desert, as a refuge. Don't hide Quatre, don't ever hide, you'll drive yourself crazy and end up be more miserable than you already are. Deep inside there is that gentle man left there inside of you; the man that the townspeople trust and love, the man that saved me from getting my hand chopped off, the man that plays his violin so purely, the man that kissed me and touched me with such innocent passion, I know he's still there. I know that he's there inside of you.

By the time you read this letter, I'll be on my way back to Sanq to try and stop Marimeia. I believe in my heart that my husband is still alive, and though I do not love him near as much, I must seek him out. Know this, if you don't stop this woman, no one will. I am not encouraging you to fight; I'm just suggesting it. Your kindness may be foremost, but your will to live and your life spirit are even more powerful. I love you; always know that. Even when you think that you're alone and no one cares, know that someone, whether I'm living or dead, loves you.

Dorothy

PS: Everyone has a price that they're willing to pay for something, for that tranquility, that peace, what is your price?

Quatre almost dropped the letter, gripping his heart, feeling the emotion that the words evoked. He'd thought that this part of him was gone, that his space heart had shriveled up and dropped away. It was only Dorothy that was able to bring this part of him back; she quickened his spirit, the one that he'd tried to repress for so long.