Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or its characters. I do own Mira, the
little priss, and Sera and Trevor. Don't take them. And don't sue me; money
is the one thing I don't have.
A/N: The long awaited conclusion! I know, I've been a sloth about updating, but doing a play takes up you're entire life. I think I've already told Quintia about this. We're doing the Wizard of Oz, and one of my parts is a munchkin, even though I'm taller than the entire cast. Yeah, I know. At least I get to be Lord Growlie and actually have lines too. Don't ask; our version isn't exactly like the movie. Anyway, as Quintia said, we had "recollections of the future". It's true, when you're high on life, who needs drugs? Ok, sorry, here's the story.
Chapter 15
It took a long while, a very long while. One would think police questioning obviously isn't speedy, but the whole thing put Dorothy in the greatest agony. It had ended, finally, and now the hardest part had come; the waiting. The interrogation room was her temporary prison now. The very walls were black and endless, but so suffocating at the same time. She gulped hard. She would not let tears show her weakness, even though no one else was there at the moment.
"It's happened then," she told herself. "I don't want to be weak. I'm regressing to my old self. I can't do that."
She tilted her neck back and let her thoughts stray. She still continued to speak to the only people who would listen to her; herself and her father.
"Well father, what do you think of me now? What do you think of your little girl?" She paused, causing an interim silence, and almost expecting her father to answer her. His memory was the only thing she was clinging to now. "Fine, don't talk to me. I don't blame you. I threw it away, father. I had something and I threw it all away."
She rolled her neck and focused on her cracked fingernails. Her fingers looked like they had jaundice from all the smoking she did. She stared intently at every detail on each nail, as if they held a certain secret. Like every line was a tale, and every crack a breaking point, and every chip was a downfall. She had more than enough of all of these. If anyone was looking at her, they would have been curious as to why she was now talking to her fingernails.
"You must have watched me, right father? I can't imagine that after all the things I wouldn't have attracted some of your attention. If you did watch, you'd know about him. Oh father, he seemed so much like you. You know who I mean, don't you? Quatre. Yes, you must know about him. Quatre, the kindest man I've ever known. I felt a presence in him, father. The only other time I'd felt that presence was from you. That presence scared me at first. I struck out against him. You saw that coming didn't you? Knowing me, of course I did it. I knew I had to defend myself, but I don't commend stabbing him. I know why I did it now. But that wasn't the issue. Oh no. It was the damn baby."
She twitched her shoulder, just enough to let it crack slightly, relieving a spec of tension. She spotted a group of people from the window on the door, and decided to turn around so as not to have to look at them. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' The only thing in front of her now was the wall. Somehow her remaining dignity didn't feel fit to talk to a wall, so she closed her eyes and spoke slowly to herself; or her father. It didn't matter which, neither of them was really there.
"Sera's, it just HAD to be Sera's baby. Why couldn't it have just been some tramp I never knew? Some hooker like Feline, I could have handled that. Even Mira, I could have handled if it was her kid. But why Sera? Why the detestable harlot that tried to marry Quatre for his money? I couldn't deal with that. A part of her and a part of the thing I love? No, that can't work."
She felt herself slipping into the dark chasm of malice inside her head. Her mouth burned with a fire, and she wished nothing more than to be able to spew it out at everything that had hurt her. For a few solitary moments, she was consumed. Her repressed anger surfaced. Surprisingly, she remained perfectly silent. Only her thoughts were murderous, not her words. She felt her fingers curl up and dig into her hand. She was sure she would draw blood.
BANG!
Her breath rasped in her throat as her eyes snapped open. She spun around in her chair, seeking the source of the noise. Was it a gun? No, it wasn't. She saw that a picture frame had fallen off someone's desk. She spun around again. "Why?" She let out a deep rattling sigh. She hoisted herself up on the table. She thought she heard another noise, but she wasn't even paying attention anymore.
"Why do I do this? Why am I the way I am? Father, do you know? I want to do it over again, Father. I want to go back and accept Quatre. I, well, I need him. I want to accept his baby. I want his love again." Was it possible, she felt tears in her eyes? How could it be? The war loving Dorothy Catalonia, crying? And over peace loving Quatre Rababa Winner? Part of her wouldn't hear of it. "Why did the baby have to come into the picture? But, if loving him means accepting the baby, I'd do it in a heartbeat. If I did that in the first place, maybe I wouldn't be on trial for murder." It seemed she came to a precipice, because a tear was now down her cheek. "I want him back, daddy. I love him."
"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice behind her called. It didn't strike her as familiar.
She wiped the one tear, making sure it wouldn't be seen. She assumed it was a lame brained detective or cop. She decided to make herself known as the venomous creature she really was.
"Why, sir, have you been listening to my conversation with no one? Surely a criminal is of no interest to such a person as you. Now, why don't you just run along to your supervisor and report my abnormal behavior. That is surely what you want to do, isn't it? It's what all mindless lackeys do, so I'm told."
"You offend me, Miss."
"It's what I do best, sir. Kindly leave."
"I'm never leaving you again."
This last remark caught her off guard. She knew it was him, but she refused to turn around. She kept her wall up. "So it is you."
"Yes." He replied meekly. She heard the depth of pity in his voice. Pity was one thing she never accepted.
She tossed her hair and crossed her legs. "What do you want?"
"Forgiveness, for one thing."
"For one thing? Oh that's rich, Quatre. You're asking more than that?"
There was a pause for a beat, before she felt a hand on her shoulder. Despite her will, she didn't want to remove it, nor did she want eye contact. She feared it.
"I have something to tell you."
"And what is that?"
"You didn't do it."
This was a little much for her. She forced herself to face him. She almost lost herself in those ocean eyes again. They were so kind and shining. No, she couldn't let herself falter. "Don't toy with me. I don't need lies."
The expression on his face was indescribable. She felt her stomach giving out from under her just seeing him again. "I would never toy with you. I just spoke to the police."
"The police think I did it."
"Not anymore, they have the truth."
She squirmed a little. He was talking in circles, and it made her so uneasy. He was sitting on the table with her now, and she was fighting every fiber of her being not to fall into his arms. She decided to show him she hadn't lost her edge. The harshest look possible braced her face as she spoke sternly. "Quatre, if we owe each other nothing else, we owe each other the truth. I know our love is dead. It's as dead as our fathers, as dead Trevor, and I can deal with that. But I can't deal with lies from the most honest person I know. Just tell me straight, what do you know?"
He was taken back by her abrasive attitude. His heart cringed a little by the look in her eyes, but he knew she was right. They did owe each other the truth, though he was quite sure their love wasn't dead, was it? 'Not now,' he told himself, 'give her the truth.'
"You're right. You were always right, you know that? Alright, I'll run you through the whole thing. I just brought in the real criminal."
"The who?"
"You heard me. Mira."
"Mira? But how did-,"
"Shh. I'll tell you. But you have to listen to me."
She unconsciously inched closer to him. She wanted to feel him breathing, just to make sure he was real. "Go ahead."
"Right. Well, the scenario is this. I had just gotten home and," his eyes trailed off as he remembered.
****
He walked down a winding corridor on the way to his office. The briefcase seemed to slip in his sweaty hand. His nerves wouldn't be able to take this much longer. His hands were shaking. Yes, it happened every time he thought of her.
'Dorothy,' he thought. He never really stopped thinking about her, not even for a single moment. 'Why? Why are you living with that-thing? He doesn't deserve you. You need to be respected for the person you are. If not with me, well, then with someone who will, but not him.' He reached the door to his office and put his hand on the doorknob. He was just about to twist it open when he heard a voice inside.
"What the..." He hesitated, and listened carefully. It sounded like a, no, couldn't be. A girly giggle? He turned the knob and in one fluent swift motion, shoved the door open. He breathed a sigh, half of relief, and half of frustration.
"Mira, what are you doing? What happened to my office?"
There she was, dressed in a black flapper outfit, and sprawled across his desk. All of the papers were thrown carelessly to the floor, and his computer was on the floor mingled with them. She had an odd blissful look on her face. Something just wasn't right with this picture. She rolled over to face him and put one knee in the air.
"Quatre, darling. I'm SO glad you're finally here. I've been waiting. But sweetheart, aren't you happy to see me?"
He threw his briefcase down and ran over to his fallen computer, checking for cracks. He wasn't even looking at her. Right now he just didn't care about her. "Mira, what the hell were you thinking? You could have broken my computer. Do you have any idea how much information I have on this thing? And what's with that ridiculous outfit?"
She looked surprisingly hurt. She put her knee down and rolled over on her stomach, pouting to herself. "Ridiculous? This is my favorite outfit, and you call it ridiculous? You have me scantily clad on your desk and all you can worry about is your computer? I thought I meant more to you than that. You don't love me anymore," she whined, turning on the waterworks. "You don't care about me. You wish I was dead, whaaa," she buried her face in her arms and screamed high pitched sobs.
Quatre gave an exasperated sigh, and left his computer to put a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't so much that he cared about her at the moment, he just cared about his ears being exposed to her shrill cries. "Mira, calm down, stop crying, please. Come on, I don't wish you were dead. How could you say that? I'm sorry, ok? Just calm down, please." 'Geez, her tears might ruin the finish on my desk.'
She sniffled and looked up at him. She became quiet, much to the relief of his eardrums, but then a look of insane greed came over her face and she pulled him to sit on the desk with her. "I'll forgive you, on one condition. Make love to me, here, now, on your desk!"
He jumped back, very frightened now. "Mira, what's gotten into you?"
She stretched a slightly pale arm out to him. "I want you, come to me. We don't have to worry about anyone else right now. I took care of it."
He was slowly backing his way to the door. 'Uh oh, she's turned psycho on me. I'd better play along.' "Really? You took care of it? Well that's wonderful news. How about I go get us something to drink? I'll be right back." He turned the knob only to find it wouldn't open. 'Crap. She's psycho and I'm stuck in the room with her.' She had a mad twinkle in her eyes.
"Oh no you don't. You can't leave now. I locked the door from the inside."
'Great. Just great. Play along, Quatre, play along.' "Alright, I won't go. But, can't we do this some other time? I mean, I'm just really tired."
She got up off the table and stalked over to him. "I know. It's her. You still have a thing for her. Well I can't lie to you. I mean, I still had a thing for someone else until recently."
"What?"
She cackled. "Oh yeah. I'm not as innocent as I seem. I've been messing around with this guy-,"
"You mean while we were together? You cheated on me?" He felt somewhat hurt, but he knew it was more of a good feeling. He had an excuse to dump her.
"Oh Quatre, you don't know anything. I still love you, I mean. But right away I knew you were never going to love me the way I loved you. You still were in love. And, well, sometimes, you know, a girl just really needs to get some. And you wouldn't give me any, so I had to go out and get some for myself."
He was just shaking his head. He didn't believe she could have ever been this bad. "Mira, are you saying that you're easy?"
She tossed her silky strawberry blond hair. Her perfect white teeth were shining in all their straightened glory. "Easy? Who me? Oh course not, how could you ever-ok, you're right, I am. But it wasn't only about the sex. I admit it, I made a mistake. I fell in love with this guy. The way we were together, it was magical. He made me feel so special, and God, he sure was beautiful."
Something was off about that statement. "Was?"
"That's right, was. You see," she backed up and started singing.
"Pop, six, squish, ah uh, Cicero, Lipshitz"
"Excuse me?"
"He had it comin' He had it comin' He only had himself to blame If you had been there, if you had seen it I betcha you would have done the same!"
Quatre didn't know what song this was, but he did know that Mira was butchering it. "What are you talking about?"
"He had it comin' He had it comin' He took a flower in its prime And then he used it, and he abused it It was a murder but not a crime!"
He was very disturbed now. "You killed somebody?!"
"That's right, but I'll tell you why. I loved this guy more than I could say. He was a real tough guy. Macho, a sort of thug. But he was always going out to find himself in the city and on the way; he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary, and Irving. I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences; he saw himself as alive, and I saw him dead! So I took a gun out from his closet and fired a warning shot...into his head!" She was really getting very upset now, and very hysterical. Her eyes were frantic and crazy.
"Mira, calm down, please."
"He told me he loved me! He told me I was the only one for him! I gave myself all to him, and he told me he'd never leave me! But no, then he throws me to the curb. You can't just do that to a person's feelings! I had feelings, didn't I? Tell me I was right Quatre!"
He was across the room, desperately trying to keep his distance. He tried to calm her. "Yes, Mira. You were right. He was terrible to do that to you. He deserved it."
"Oh I'm so happy you agree with me!"
"But, what about the police?"
"Don't worry, I framed the perfect person."
Quatre felt his stomach lurch. "You framed an innocent person?"
She violently swayed her head back and forth. "No no, she's not innocent in any account. Dorothy, ick. I know she would have killed Trevor eventually. She was a danger to him. It was all her fault that he didn't love me anymore! If she hadn't been living with him he wouldn't have strayed, he'd still love me! But she would have killed him. I just helped her along with it. That's it, that's what I did."
The minute that she mentioned her name his blood boiled. "Dorothy? You killed Trevor and you're framing Dorothy for it?!"
She tried to look innocent again, to no avail. "I did it for you too, don't you see? You couldn't give yourself to me because of her. Now she'll be put away and we can have each other, don't you understand? Take my hand, Quatre. We can have a perfect life together now."
She was holding her manicured hand out, waiting for him to accept her, like she always wanted him to. He was ready to spit nails, but much to her surprise, he took her hand. A look of pure and utter ecstasy came onto her face for about two seconds. Then, he wrenched her arm around her back and held the other arm there with it, keeping her at bay.
"Quatre!"
"Shut up."
She tried to struggle but he kept his hold. He reached his foot over to a spot underneath his desk to push a button. Instantly, blazing alarms were all that could be heard. When the police got there, they took her into custody, and Quatre gave them the videotape from the security camera in his office to prove every word she had said.
****
"And that leaves us at the present," he concluded to her, after he finished the entire spiel. "You can get off now; they can prove she's guilty."
The whole story left her dumbstruck. She would have never put it past that Mirror would have been so crafty and psychotic all at the same time. "Well, thank you."
"For what?" He was hoping for a certain response, hoping for it with all his heart.
"Thank you for bringing the real criminal to justice. I commend you for your bravery. I owe you a lot. Nice seeing you again, goodbye."
His hopes faltered. He should have known that she wouldn't take him back so easily. He would have to beg. And that's precisely what he wanted to do. "That's it? You have nothing else to say?"
"That's all."
"Well, if you'll excuse me, Dorothy, I'm not quite finished. Care to listen?
She flicked fingernails together. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do."
He got up from the table and stood in front of her. This wasn't going to be easy. "Dorothy, I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You? Really, well how nice. Are you done yet?"
He gulped. "No, I'm not. I am really, truly sorry. I'm sorry I told you to leave. I'm sorry I ever met psycho-bitch, I'm sorry I started dating her. I'm sorry for being so arrogant. I'm sorry for taking my pain out on you." He felt a tear slip out of his eye. He picked up one of her hands and put it on his face. How beautiful it felt to feel her touch again. "I never stopped loving you. I never will stop loving you. You're everything."
She didn't remove her hand from his face, though her head kept screaming at her to get up and leave. She felt his wax like pale skin. She missed him, oh how she missed him. She missed the way his skin felt against hers, she missed his gentle words, and she missed the way he'd never think less of her if she cried. Who was she kidding; she was still head-over-heels in love with him. But she wouldn't give in, yet. "I'm not everything, and you know that's true. What about Sera's baby? It was enough of an issue to tear us apart. We failed, Quatre. I failed you." She moved her hand up to his hair. She ran her hand through it as if it were silk. "You were the better person. I'm just not a good person. You knew that, you really did. I didn't want to share you with that baby. I was afraid you would love me less with that kid."
"I could never love you less."
"But it's over. Our love is dead. Mira proved that."
"No, Dorothy. Neither of us failed. We beat Mira. Love will not die, Dorothy."
She was startled. It didn't really make sense. "Excuse me?"
He put his hands on her bare shoulders and leaned in. "Love will not Die, Dorothy. It can only be forgotten, or tried to be forgotten. But something as beautiful as our love is not dead, nor will it ever be. Listen, as long as I live, as long as blood flows through my veins, as long as I can breath even but a breathe from my body, I will do it all loving you. Even when I die, my soul," he kissed her lightly, and pulled away only to finish talking, "will always be devoted to you."
"I," she couldn't retort that. She just couldn't find a cynical retort to such a lovely speech. She felt something break in her stomach and she just grabbed him and gave him the most passionate of kisses. They lost their hatred and complications in the sweet moment. Nothing could destroy them now. When they did break apart, she only said one thing before she started at him again. "I love you. Take me home."
He picked her up off the table and stood her up. She looked at him strangely, but he put up his hands in protest. "Wait, there's something I need to finish. This isn't exactly the place, but, oh well." He got down on one knee and she gasped. She had waited for this for so long and now it was happening...in the interrogation room of a police station? Who cared!
He took her hand and took a box out of his pocket. "Dorothy Catalonia, I don't know exactly what I can say to top what I just told you, but here goes. Dorothy, you're the most irritating, stubborn, and strong willed woman I know, and sometimes you annoy the hell out of me, and I love that. I love the way you do everything. I love the way you contradict me, and the way you love me. I can't be alive unless my life is with you." He opened the box and revealed a beautiful antique looking ring. "Dorothy, will you marry me?"
She gaped at the ring and sarcastically responded. "No, I won't. What do you think I'll say? Yes! Forever yes!" She jumped onto him and they both gave themselves entirely in their kiss. Then, he nuzzled his nose into her hair. "You like the ring?"
She playfully blew in his ear. "I love it, just like I love you."
He got a little more serious and said, "It was my mother's ring."
She gasped and pulled away to look at it. It was the most beautiful thing, and it was his mother's? She looked at him in disbelief. "You're sure that I'm worth your mother's ring? I know how much she meant to you."
He kissed her neck. "Only you are worthy of that ring."
She held him tighter. "I don't know what to say."
"What do you say we get out of here?"
"I'm ready when you are."
Arm in arm, they strutted out the door and into the police station, and of course, attracted the attention of the entire room. Dorothy, feeling like her old overbearing self, waved them off.
"Don't mind us. We've just found each other again. Continue with your work."
As they walked to the door, a guard stopped them. "Excuse me, but she still needs to have this paper work cleared." He handed them a huge stack of papers, and she looked them over. It was all legal mumbo jumbo that really seemed no matter. So, she tossed them up in the air.
"Sorry, but I haven't the time. Call me in the morning, if I'm not too tired." She pulled him out and they sprinted outside, laughing and kissing all the while. And for the first time in their lives, they were truly free. And that was all the world needed right then. And that was all life needed to be.
A/N: Ta da! And that's that! Ok, citing time. The thing with Mira wearing the black flapper outfit and singing was because I saw the movie "Chicago". She was singing part of the "Cell Block Tango", and I changed and spliced different parts of that together. I don't own the movie or Broadway play. As for this story, I finally finished it! I also have two other things planned; a prequel and a sequel to this story, so watch out for those. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it's meant so much to me. I hope I can be a better writer because of what you all told me. Quintia, I love you! Peace out!
A/N: The long awaited conclusion! I know, I've been a sloth about updating, but doing a play takes up you're entire life. I think I've already told Quintia about this. We're doing the Wizard of Oz, and one of my parts is a munchkin, even though I'm taller than the entire cast. Yeah, I know. At least I get to be Lord Growlie and actually have lines too. Don't ask; our version isn't exactly like the movie. Anyway, as Quintia said, we had "recollections of the future". It's true, when you're high on life, who needs drugs? Ok, sorry, here's the story.
Chapter 15
It took a long while, a very long while. One would think police questioning obviously isn't speedy, but the whole thing put Dorothy in the greatest agony. It had ended, finally, and now the hardest part had come; the waiting. The interrogation room was her temporary prison now. The very walls were black and endless, but so suffocating at the same time. She gulped hard. She would not let tears show her weakness, even though no one else was there at the moment.
"It's happened then," she told herself. "I don't want to be weak. I'm regressing to my old self. I can't do that."
She tilted her neck back and let her thoughts stray. She still continued to speak to the only people who would listen to her; herself and her father.
"Well father, what do you think of me now? What do you think of your little girl?" She paused, causing an interim silence, and almost expecting her father to answer her. His memory was the only thing she was clinging to now. "Fine, don't talk to me. I don't blame you. I threw it away, father. I had something and I threw it all away."
She rolled her neck and focused on her cracked fingernails. Her fingers looked like they had jaundice from all the smoking she did. She stared intently at every detail on each nail, as if they held a certain secret. Like every line was a tale, and every crack a breaking point, and every chip was a downfall. She had more than enough of all of these. If anyone was looking at her, they would have been curious as to why she was now talking to her fingernails.
"You must have watched me, right father? I can't imagine that after all the things I wouldn't have attracted some of your attention. If you did watch, you'd know about him. Oh father, he seemed so much like you. You know who I mean, don't you? Quatre. Yes, you must know about him. Quatre, the kindest man I've ever known. I felt a presence in him, father. The only other time I'd felt that presence was from you. That presence scared me at first. I struck out against him. You saw that coming didn't you? Knowing me, of course I did it. I knew I had to defend myself, but I don't commend stabbing him. I know why I did it now. But that wasn't the issue. Oh no. It was the damn baby."
She twitched her shoulder, just enough to let it crack slightly, relieving a spec of tension. She spotted a group of people from the window on the door, and decided to turn around so as not to have to look at them. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' The only thing in front of her now was the wall. Somehow her remaining dignity didn't feel fit to talk to a wall, so she closed her eyes and spoke slowly to herself; or her father. It didn't matter which, neither of them was really there.
"Sera's, it just HAD to be Sera's baby. Why couldn't it have just been some tramp I never knew? Some hooker like Feline, I could have handled that. Even Mira, I could have handled if it was her kid. But why Sera? Why the detestable harlot that tried to marry Quatre for his money? I couldn't deal with that. A part of her and a part of the thing I love? No, that can't work."
She felt herself slipping into the dark chasm of malice inside her head. Her mouth burned with a fire, and she wished nothing more than to be able to spew it out at everything that had hurt her. For a few solitary moments, she was consumed. Her repressed anger surfaced. Surprisingly, she remained perfectly silent. Only her thoughts were murderous, not her words. She felt her fingers curl up and dig into her hand. She was sure she would draw blood.
BANG!
Her breath rasped in her throat as her eyes snapped open. She spun around in her chair, seeking the source of the noise. Was it a gun? No, it wasn't. She saw that a picture frame had fallen off someone's desk. She spun around again. "Why?" She let out a deep rattling sigh. She hoisted herself up on the table. She thought she heard another noise, but she wasn't even paying attention anymore.
"Why do I do this? Why am I the way I am? Father, do you know? I want to do it over again, Father. I want to go back and accept Quatre. I, well, I need him. I want to accept his baby. I want his love again." Was it possible, she felt tears in her eyes? How could it be? The war loving Dorothy Catalonia, crying? And over peace loving Quatre Rababa Winner? Part of her wouldn't hear of it. "Why did the baby have to come into the picture? But, if loving him means accepting the baby, I'd do it in a heartbeat. If I did that in the first place, maybe I wouldn't be on trial for murder." It seemed she came to a precipice, because a tear was now down her cheek. "I want him back, daddy. I love him."
"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice behind her called. It didn't strike her as familiar.
She wiped the one tear, making sure it wouldn't be seen. She assumed it was a lame brained detective or cop. She decided to make herself known as the venomous creature she really was.
"Why, sir, have you been listening to my conversation with no one? Surely a criminal is of no interest to such a person as you. Now, why don't you just run along to your supervisor and report my abnormal behavior. That is surely what you want to do, isn't it? It's what all mindless lackeys do, so I'm told."
"You offend me, Miss."
"It's what I do best, sir. Kindly leave."
"I'm never leaving you again."
This last remark caught her off guard. She knew it was him, but she refused to turn around. She kept her wall up. "So it is you."
"Yes." He replied meekly. She heard the depth of pity in his voice. Pity was one thing she never accepted.
She tossed her hair and crossed her legs. "What do you want?"
"Forgiveness, for one thing."
"For one thing? Oh that's rich, Quatre. You're asking more than that?"
There was a pause for a beat, before she felt a hand on her shoulder. Despite her will, she didn't want to remove it, nor did she want eye contact. She feared it.
"I have something to tell you."
"And what is that?"
"You didn't do it."
This was a little much for her. She forced herself to face him. She almost lost herself in those ocean eyes again. They were so kind and shining. No, she couldn't let herself falter. "Don't toy with me. I don't need lies."
The expression on his face was indescribable. She felt her stomach giving out from under her just seeing him again. "I would never toy with you. I just spoke to the police."
"The police think I did it."
"Not anymore, they have the truth."
She squirmed a little. He was talking in circles, and it made her so uneasy. He was sitting on the table with her now, and she was fighting every fiber of her being not to fall into his arms. She decided to show him she hadn't lost her edge. The harshest look possible braced her face as she spoke sternly. "Quatre, if we owe each other nothing else, we owe each other the truth. I know our love is dead. It's as dead as our fathers, as dead Trevor, and I can deal with that. But I can't deal with lies from the most honest person I know. Just tell me straight, what do you know?"
He was taken back by her abrasive attitude. His heart cringed a little by the look in her eyes, but he knew she was right. They did owe each other the truth, though he was quite sure their love wasn't dead, was it? 'Not now,' he told himself, 'give her the truth.'
"You're right. You were always right, you know that? Alright, I'll run you through the whole thing. I just brought in the real criminal."
"The who?"
"You heard me. Mira."
"Mira? But how did-,"
"Shh. I'll tell you. But you have to listen to me."
She unconsciously inched closer to him. She wanted to feel him breathing, just to make sure he was real. "Go ahead."
"Right. Well, the scenario is this. I had just gotten home and," his eyes trailed off as he remembered.
****
He walked down a winding corridor on the way to his office. The briefcase seemed to slip in his sweaty hand. His nerves wouldn't be able to take this much longer. His hands were shaking. Yes, it happened every time he thought of her.
'Dorothy,' he thought. He never really stopped thinking about her, not even for a single moment. 'Why? Why are you living with that-thing? He doesn't deserve you. You need to be respected for the person you are. If not with me, well, then with someone who will, but not him.' He reached the door to his office and put his hand on the doorknob. He was just about to twist it open when he heard a voice inside.
"What the..." He hesitated, and listened carefully. It sounded like a, no, couldn't be. A girly giggle? He turned the knob and in one fluent swift motion, shoved the door open. He breathed a sigh, half of relief, and half of frustration.
"Mira, what are you doing? What happened to my office?"
There she was, dressed in a black flapper outfit, and sprawled across his desk. All of the papers were thrown carelessly to the floor, and his computer was on the floor mingled with them. She had an odd blissful look on her face. Something just wasn't right with this picture. She rolled over to face him and put one knee in the air.
"Quatre, darling. I'm SO glad you're finally here. I've been waiting. But sweetheart, aren't you happy to see me?"
He threw his briefcase down and ran over to his fallen computer, checking for cracks. He wasn't even looking at her. Right now he just didn't care about her. "Mira, what the hell were you thinking? You could have broken my computer. Do you have any idea how much information I have on this thing? And what's with that ridiculous outfit?"
She looked surprisingly hurt. She put her knee down and rolled over on her stomach, pouting to herself. "Ridiculous? This is my favorite outfit, and you call it ridiculous? You have me scantily clad on your desk and all you can worry about is your computer? I thought I meant more to you than that. You don't love me anymore," she whined, turning on the waterworks. "You don't care about me. You wish I was dead, whaaa," she buried her face in her arms and screamed high pitched sobs.
Quatre gave an exasperated sigh, and left his computer to put a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't so much that he cared about her at the moment, he just cared about his ears being exposed to her shrill cries. "Mira, calm down, stop crying, please. Come on, I don't wish you were dead. How could you say that? I'm sorry, ok? Just calm down, please." 'Geez, her tears might ruin the finish on my desk.'
She sniffled and looked up at him. She became quiet, much to the relief of his eardrums, but then a look of insane greed came over her face and she pulled him to sit on the desk with her. "I'll forgive you, on one condition. Make love to me, here, now, on your desk!"
He jumped back, very frightened now. "Mira, what's gotten into you?"
She stretched a slightly pale arm out to him. "I want you, come to me. We don't have to worry about anyone else right now. I took care of it."
He was slowly backing his way to the door. 'Uh oh, she's turned psycho on me. I'd better play along.' "Really? You took care of it? Well that's wonderful news. How about I go get us something to drink? I'll be right back." He turned the knob only to find it wouldn't open. 'Crap. She's psycho and I'm stuck in the room with her.' She had a mad twinkle in her eyes.
"Oh no you don't. You can't leave now. I locked the door from the inside."
'Great. Just great. Play along, Quatre, play along.' "Alright, I won't go. But, can't we do this some other time? I mean, I'm just really tired."
She got up off the table and stalked over to him. "I know. It's her. You still have a thing for her. Well I can't lie to you. I mean, I still had a thing for someone else until recently."
"What?"
She cackled. "Oh yeah. I'm not as innocent as I seem. I've been messing around with this guy-,"
"You mean while we were together? You cheated on me?" He felt somewhat hurt, but he knew it was more of a good feeling. He had an excuse to dump her.
"Oh Quatre, you don't know anything. I still love you, I mean. But right away I knew you were never going to love me the way I loved you. You still were in love. And, well, sometimes, you know, a girl just really needs to get some. And you wouldn't give me any, so I had to go out and get some for myself."
He was just shaking his head. He didn't believe she could have ever been this bad. "Mira, are you saying that you're easy?"
She tossed her silky strawberry blond hair. Her perfect white teeth were shining in all their straightened glory. "Easy? Who me? Oh course not, how could you ever-ok, you're right, I am. But it wasn't only about the sex. I admit it, I made a mistake. I fell in love with this guy. The way we were together, it was magical. He made me feel so special, and God, he sure was beautiful."
Something was off about that statement. "Was?"
"That's right, was. You see," she backed up and started singing.
"Pop, six, squish, ah uh, Cicero, Lipshitz"
"Excuse me?"
"He had it comin' He had it comin' He only had himself to blame If you had been there, if you had seen it I betcha you would have done the same!"
Quatre didn't know what song this was, but he did know that Mira was butchering it. "What are you talking about?"
"He had it comin' He had it comin' He took a flower in its prime And then he used it, and he abused it It was a murder but not a crime!"
He was very disturbed now. "You killed somebody?!"
"That's right, but I'll tell you why. I loved this guy more than I could say. He was a real tough guy. Macho, a sort of thug. But he was always going out to find himself in the city and on the way; he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary, and Irving. I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences; he saw himself as alive, and I saw him dead! So I took a gun out from his closet and fired a warning shot...into his head!" She was really getting very upset now, and very hysterical. Her eyes were frantic and crazy.
"Mira, calm down, please."
"He told me he loved me! He told me I was the only one for him! I gave myself all to him, and he told me he'd never leave me! But no, then he throws me to the curb. You can't just do that to a person's feelings! I had feelings, didn't I? Tell me I was right Quatre!"
He was across the room, desperately trying to keep his distance. He tried to calm her. "Yes, Mira. You were right. He was terrible to do that to you. He deserved it."
"Oh I'm so happy you agree with me!"
"But, what about the police?"
"Don't worry, I framed the perfect person."
Quatre felt his stomach lurch. "You framed an innocent person?"
She violently swayed her head back and forth. "No no, she's not innocent in any account. Dorothy, ick. I know she would have killed Trevor eventually. She was a danger to him. It was all her fault that he didn't love me anymore! If she hadn't been living with him he wouldn't have strayed, he'd still love me! But she would have killed him. I just helped her along with it. That's it, that's what I did."
The minute that she mentioned her name his blood boiled. "Dorothy? You killed Trevor and you're framing Dorothy for it?!"
She tried to look innocent again, to no avail. "I did it for you too, don't you see? You couldn't give yourself to me because of her. Now she'll be put away and we can have each other, don't you understand? Take my hand, Quatre. We can have a perfect life together now."
She was holding her manicured hand out, waiting for him to accept her, like she always wanted him to. He was ready to spit nails, but much to her surprise, he took her hand. A look of pure and utter ecstasy came onto her face for about two seconds. Then, he wrenched her arm around her back and held the other arm there with it, keeping her at bay.
"Quatre!"
"Shut up."
She tried to struggle but he kept his hold. He reached his foot over to a spot underneath his desk to push a button. Instantly, blazing alarms were all that could be heard. When the police got there, they took her into custody, and Quatre gave them the videotape from the security camera in his office to prove every word she had said.
****
"And that leaves us at the present," he concluded to her, after he finished the entire spiel. "You can get off now; they can prove she's guilty."
The whole story left her dumbstruck. She would have never put it past that Mirror would have been so crafty and psychotic all at the same time. "Well, thank you."
"For what?" He was hoping for a certain response, hoping for it with all his heart.
"Thank you for bringing the real criminal to justice. I commend you for your bravery. I owe you a lot. Nice seeing you again, goodbye."
His hopes faltered. He should have known that she wouldn't take him back so easily. He would have to beg. And that's precisely what he wanted to do. "That's it? You have nothing else to say?"
"That's all."
"Well, if you'll excuse me, Dorothy, I'm not quite finished. Care to listen?
She flicked fingernails together. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do."
He got up from the table and stood in front of her. This wasn't going to be easy. "Dorothy, I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You? Really, well how nice. Are you done yet?"
He gulped. "No, I'm not. I am really, truly sorry. I'm sorry I told you to leave. I'm sorry I ever met psycho-bitch, I'm sorry I started dating her. I'm sorry for being so arrogant. I'm sorry for taking my pain out on you." He felt a tear slip out of his eye. He picked up one of her hands and put it on his face. How beautiful it felt to feel her touch again. "I never stopped loving you. I never will stop loving you. You're everything."
She didn't remove her hand from his face, though her head kept screaming at her to get up and leave. She felt his wax like pale skin. She missed him, oh how she missed him. She missed the way his skin felt against hers, she missed his gentle words, and she missed the way he'd never think less of her if she cried. Who was she kidding; she was still head-over-heels in love with him. But she wouldn't give in, yet. "I'm not everything, and you know that's true. What about Sera's baby? It was enough of an issue to tear us apart. We failed, Quatre. I failed you." She moved her hand up to his hair. She ran her hand through it as if it were silk. "You were the better person. I'm just not a good person. You knew that, you really did. I didn't want to share you with that baby. I was afraid you would love me less with that kid."
"I could never love you less."
"But it's over. Our love is dead. Mira proved that."
"No, Dorothy. Neither of us failed. We beat Mira. Love will not die, Dorothy."
She was startled. It didn't really make sense. "Excuse me?"
He put his hands on her bare shoulders and leaned in. "Love will not Die, Dorothy. It can only be forgotten, or tried to be forgotten. But something as beautiful as our love is not dead, nor will it ever be. Listen, as long as I live, as long as blood flows through my veins, as long as I can breath even but a breathe from my body, I will do it all loving you. Even when I die, my soul," he kissed her lightly, and pulled away only to finish talking, "will always be devoted to you."
"I," she couldn't retort that. She just couldn't find a cynical retort to such a lovely speech. She felt something break in her stomach and she just grabbed him and gave him the most passionate of kisses. They lost their hatred and complications in the sweet moment. Nothing could destroy them now. When they did break apart, she only said one thing before she started at him again. "I love you. Take me home."
He picked her up off the table and stood her up. She looked at him strangely, but he put up his hands in protest. "Wait, there's something I need to finish. This isn't exactly the place, but, oh well." He got down on one knee and she gasped. She had waited for this for so long and now it was happening...in the interrogation room of a police station? Who cared!
He took her hand and took a box out of his pocket. "Dorothy Catalonia, I don't know exactly what I can say to top what I just told you, but here goes. Dorothy, you're the most irritating, stubborn, and strong willed woman I know, and sometimes you annoy the hell out of me, and I love that. I love the way you do everything. I love the way you contradict me, and the way you love me. I can't be alive unless my life is with you." He opened the box and revealed a beautiful antique looking ring. "Dorothy, will you marry me?"
She gaped at the ring and sarcastically responded. "No, I won't. What do you think I'll say? Yes! Forever yes!" She jumped onto him and they both gave themselves entirely in their kiss. Then, he nuzzled his nose into her hair. "You like the ring?"
She playfully blew in his ear. "I love it, just like I love you."
He got a little more serious and said, "It was my mother's ring."
She gasped and pulled away to look at it. It was the most beautiful thing, and it was his mother's? She looked at him in disbelief. "You're sure that I'm worth your mother's ring? I know how much she meant to you."
He kissed her neck. "Only you are worthy of that ring."
She held him tighter. "I don't know what to say."
"What do you say we get out of here?"
"I'm ready when you are."
Arm in arm, they strutted out the door and into the police station, and of course, attracted the attention of the entire room. Dorothy, feeling like her old overbearing self, waved them off.
"Don't mind us. We've just found each other again. Continue with your work."
As they walked to the door, a guard stopped them. "Excuse me, but she still needs to have this paper work cleared." He handed them a huge stack of papers, and she looked them over. It was all legal mumbo jumbo that really seemed no matter. So, she tossed them up in the air.
"Sorry, but I haven't the time. Call me in the morning, if I'm not too tired." She pulled him out and they sprinted outside, laughing and kissing all the while. And for the first time in their lives, they were truly free. And that was all the world needed right then. And that was all life needed to be.
A/N: Ta da! And that's that! Ok, citing time. The thing with Mira wearing the black flapper outfit and singing was because I saw the movie "Chicago". She was singing part of the "Cell Block Tango", and I changed and spliced different parts of that together. I don't own the movie or Broadway play. As for this story, I finally finished it! I also have two other things planned; a prequel and a sequel to this story, so watch out for those. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it's meant so much to me. I hope I can be a better writer because of what you all told me. Quintia, I love you! Peace out!