Midii awoke from that feverish dream, the one that had haunted her for so long. She recognized her surroundings as the bed-and-bath of Trowa's suite at the Beau Rivage. She sat up and took her bag into the bathroom. As she stripped the damp clothes from her clammy skin, she couldn't remember the previous night's events. She stepped into the shower of hot water, watching the remnants of her dye job swirl down the drain. She felt alive again.

"Trowa.shower," Heero alerted him as he sat down with another cup of coffee. It hadn't been long - Trowa had left and gotten another room after he took care of Midii, about four hours prior. He had been sitting in the same chair since he had brought the girl to Trowa - now he wanted to be done with her. His shoulder still hurt like Hell. Barton got up and went into the other room; Heero opted for the news - something about the near-feudal system in Serbia, a shooting in the states, the norm. Nothing about the Spy or the organization that had arrested an 'innocent' civilian was showing. They were running. Sitting back and muting the TV, he was just about to try to sleep when - "What the Hell did you think you were doing?" A few moments of silence followed. "Trowa." she said dryly, "I think I should be the one to be yelling this time. Jesus, I just lost a quarter million dollars! Not to mention I was the one who almost spent the night soaking wet in the interrogation room in the damn Preventors building!" He said something Heero couldn't make out and after that it was a pretty hushed conversation.

If only he had known. He came into the bathroom and knocked on the shower stall. Instead of the door. It had to be Trowa.

She sat curled up on the floor of the shower, letting the water run over her. Steam rose off her skin. She looked up at him and started talking, "I don't know what happened last night." "I'm not the only one then," he said, watching her. She really was gorgeous. "Why," he asked, "did you go.to Heero?" he asked. Her big gray eyes bored into his soul. "He was.the last cell." "What the Hell did you think you were doing?" * Apparently, despite the early-morning spat, the two had come back to terms. Whatever those were, Heero thought. People told him his on again- off again relationship with Relena was prone to peaks and valleys, but Trowa and Midii - for Trowa it was a 'don't ask, don't tell' deal for everyone who was curious. The fact that he wouldn't acknowledge her existence didn't give the couple much of a chance. He watched the two in the next room. They were both wet - apparently he thought yelling at her while they both were in an enclosed space was more forceful. She went about the room, collecting her belongings and arguing with Trowa. The conversation was petty - he didn't care about that. But it was really Midii he studied with his deep blue eyes. At one point she looked up at him, then broke eye contact and continued her hushed argument. She was so funny, half-insane like that. Fighting for them included yelling, but every so often they would realize they had an audience and take on a hushed tone. She started screaming something about Provence and turned from him to remove his oversized tee shirt that she had been wearing. At this point Trowa closed the door to the bedroom without his eyes leaving her. * Long after Yuy left, Midii and Trowa sat in the living room. Three hours of non-reminisce talking hadn't offered much. Trowa opened and closed his mouth as if trying to vocalize; Midii took his innuendo and sat on the couch next to him. He put his arm around her and they laced fingers. This is what I remember.Midii thought. She looked up at him, trying to read what elusive thoughts ran through his mind. He was glad she couldn't. And so it starts.the beginning of our end. *

"Quatre.mail," Yasmine said, a tone of fear in her voice. Quatre took the manila envelope and wrapped his arm around her. He and his sister had always been close, considering they were the youngest. It was strange - he was so close to home yet so detached from the world he knew. Ever since Adrienne had told him to run he had been walking through fog. His hand shook as he walked to the guest room he was staying in. It was a tape. Along with a profile of Adrienne - only it wasn't her. Midii Une's picture and statistics stared at him. He was confused - so he turned to the tape. Still shaking, he pushed the video into the VCR. A black and white security camera viewed. She sat on the table, swinging her legs. "Miss Une." a man's voice said, "Are you going to tell the truth now?" "I already gave you everything." She replied dryly in a French brough. "Who gave you orders to destroy the mercenaries?" Treize Khushrenada stepped into the camera's view. Puffing on a cigar, he looked down on the girl. She was young - maybe fourteen. He was noticeably losing patience. "And the mobile suits? What about them?" he asked. She stared up at the camera. He continued. "Midii.you need to tell me now who you are working for." "I don't have to tell you anything. I didn't commit any crime," she said, her accent thickening. He took her arm and stabbed the cigar into the flesh of her wrist. Quatre couldn't stand it - her screams. Then he realized - she was a spy. Adrienne, Midii, whoever she was, had been leading him in circles for the past week. And now someone knew about them. Someone knew where he was. * He knew who was behind all of this - the whole espionage trap involving Midii. It was the only one who could really be jeopardized by the old Alliance - Mariemaia. The entire force - headed up by Dekim Barton - was threatened from old charges prior to the Eve Wars. Annihilating Midii Une, a colonel in the Alliance, would keep up the pure façade of the Force. It was the only rational answer. The preventors had received orders no one had authorized, the Alliance was very happy to have Une, and the old ESUN had no complaints about her. Heero sat in his office, absentmindedly playing Solitaire - and losing. He had already called Trowa - apparently he and Midii were once again not speaking. She had said there was nothing left to talk about. So went their story. His computer beeped. E-mail appeared. The subject line: Apollo. He was truly worried now. Blueprints labeled 'Apollo' appeared. Blueprints of a mobile suit.