Warning: Some parts are a bit lemony but not too much. Just a warning.

Disclaimer: I don't own GW…pooh. Rats…maybe someday.

Fiery Repercussions (Prologue)

            "I love you," Relena Dorlian whispered. Lying on the summer-dry grass, staring into eyes as green as emeralds, she smiled, blushing at the boldness of her words. At nineteen she was certain she was in love. And no one, not her overprotective father, nor her suspicious brother, nor even Trowa Barton himself, could convince her otherwise.

            Trowa's thumbs traced the arch of her cheeks. Passion smoldered in his eyes. "You're sure?"

            "Absolutely," Her lips quivered anxiously. "So don't try to tell me that I'm too young or too naïve or too…whatever, to know what I'm talking about."

            "Am I arguing?" He kissed her softly again, his lips warm and filled with promise as they brushed tenderly over hers. Strong fingers tangled in her long, strawberry-blond hair. Winding her arms around his neck, she felt the weight of his chest crush her breasts, could see blue sky through the shifting pine needles of the branches overhead. The summer sun hung low over lazy mountains, and insects hummed in the whisper-soft breeze that ruffled Trowa's chocolate brown hair. Nearby, the horses, a buckskin gelding and a sorrel mare, were tethered together. The animals stood nose to rump, nickering softly and switching their tails at the ever-[resent flies.

            The afternoon was perfect.

            "I love you, too, Relena," Trowa vowed, moving gently above her.

            Through her jeans Relena could feel the heat of his body, the solid warmth of his legs entwined with hers.

            Pressing eager lips against her neck, he groaned – a deep, primal sound that caused her heart to trip. Her breath caught somewhere between her throat and lungs as he said, "I want to make you mine."

            She believed him. With all of her heart, she knew he wanted to marry her, intended to spend the rest of his life with her. Her heart began to clamor, her pulse jumping wildly as he circled the hollow of her throat with his tongue. His breath was as warm as the summer wind, the honesty in his eyes clear as a mountain lake.

            "I trust you," she whispered.

            She felt the buttons slide through the buttonholes in her blouse. The gauzy fabric parted, and sunlight warmed her bare skin. She smiled to herself, throwing caution to the wind. Today she would prove just how much she loved Trowa, just how wrong her father was about him.

            Sunlight danced through the trees, dappling their naked bodies as they gazed upon each other in silent rapture. She wasn't embarrassed and met his hungry gaze with her own. He swallowed.

            She licked her lips. "I'll love you for the rest of my life," she said softly. Touching his bare chest, watching the muscles of his shoulders ripple and strain, she smiled up at him.

            Her fingers traced a feather-line against his rips, and he groaned. "Relena, don't tease me,"

            "Never," she vowed, devouring him with her eyes.

            At twenty-three, Trowa had matured into a handsome man. Long and lean, with tanned skin, flashing emerald eyes and hair as brown as chocolate, he was rugged and charming, His features were no longer boyish, but chiseled into manhood. He was everything she had ever wanted, and unless she convinced him otherwise, he was leaving.

            "Oh, Relena," he whispered hoarsely, smoothing her hair from her face, his palms caressing her cheeks. "I want to make you happy."

            "Do I look so miserable?" she asked, chuckling deep in her throat.

            He grinned crookedly. "You're gorgeous."

            "So, Mr. Barton, are you."

            "I never want to hurt you," he said, growing serious again.

            "You won't," Relena looked up at him. "Love me," She whispered.

            The wind shifted silently, moving across the rugged ridge on which they lay, bending the dry grass and catching in Relena's hair.

            "Don't ever leave me," she begged, her mind still spinning in a kaleidoscope of colors as she clung to him and tried to still her racing heartbeat. She felt the dew of sweat on his arms, smelled the scent of lovemaking on his skin, saw smoky clouds swirl in a sky tinged with pink.

            "I have to go to L.A."

            His words were a cold dose of reality. "You don't have to," Relena protested.

            "Yes, I do, Relena. I've got a job there in two weeks." Evidently seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he kissed the tip of her nose. "But you could come with me."

            She swallowed back the urge to cry and looked away from him to the hazy heavens. "My dad…"

            "Doesn't need you. I do. Come with me."

            "What would I do in Los Angeles?" she asked, shifting her gaze back to his. "I train horses. I don't belong in the city. And neither do you." Blinking rapidly, she told herself not to cry, no this afternoon, not after loving him so completely. Clouds drifted overhead and the smell of smoke wafted through the trees.

            "I'm an engineer, Relena. I want to build bridges and skyscrapers and –," His nostrils flared and every muscle in his body flexed.

            "And what?"

            "Smoke!" he whispered, his gaze daring through the surrounding hills, to the valley floor far below. "Oh, God –,"

            "What?" she asked, reading the terror in his eyes, "Trowa?" Her throat suddenly dry, she, too, smelled the biting odor of burning wood. Fire!

            Scrambling into his jeans, Trowa stared down the hillside, his face a mask of horror. "Oh, God, no!"

            Relena followed his gaze, only to see steel-gray smoke billowing from the stables of the Barton ranch. She felt the blood rush from her face as she scrabbled on the dry ground for her jeans and blouse and struggled into her clothes.

            Trowa ran barefoot to his horse and grabbed the reins. While the poor beast sidestepped and tossed his head, he swung onto the geldings back and kicked hard. Leaving behind a cloud of dust, the buckskin tore down the rutted trail, his hooves clanging sharply on the rocks.

            "Wait!" Relena cried, cursing the buttons of her blouse as she yanked on her boots, then ran to her sorrel mare and climbed into the saddle. "Come on," she urged, shoving her knees into the mare's ribs. The little quarter horse leaped forward, half stumbling down the rocky trail. Relena slapped her with the reins, and the mare scrambled down the hill.

            Wind tore at Relena's face and hair, and tears blurred her eyes as she club burr-like to her horse's neck. Trowa was yards in front of her, cutting away from the trail and through the trees. "Wait!" she called again.

            He didn't even glance back. Tucked low over the buckskin's shoulders, he streaked ahead.

            "Giddap!" Relena screamed, praying that the smoke pouring from the stables was from a fire already under control – trying to stop the horrid dread knotting in her stomach. Her game little mare sprinted into the pines, and Relena had to duck to escape being scraped off by low hanging branches. "Come on, come on," she whispered as they broke from the trees and raced across a long pasture leading to the stables.

            The ranch was a madhouse. Stable boys, ranch hands, and the kitchen help were running through the yard, yelling at one another, turning hoses onto the burning building. Thick, pungent smoke clogged the air, changing day to night. Flames crackled and leaped through the roof. Horses shrieked in terror, their horrific cries punctuating the ring of steel-shod hooves pounding against splintering wood.

            "Dear God," Relena prayed. "Dear God, save them!"

            Trowa yanked his horse to a stop, and as the buckskin reared, Trowa jumped to the ground, then vaulted the fence.

            "Stop! Trowa, no!" Relena cried, stricken as her sweaty mare slid to a halt near the gate. She leaped onto, then over, the top rail of the fence. Her eyes were glued to Trowa as he raced, shouldering his way through useless ranch hands toward the stables. "Somebody stop him! Trowa!"

            Smoke burned her lungs and her eyes stung as she followed, stumbling forward. Somewhere in the distance she heard the wail of sirens. "Trowa!"

            "You can't go in there," her brother, Milliardo, commanded. He seemed to come from nowhere through the smoke.

            "Like hell."

            "Precisely." His gaunt face was streaked with soot, his hair grimy, his face red as he stared at the inferno. Hot, crackling flames knifed through charred shingles in the sagging roof. "Just like hell."

            "Trowa's in there!" she cried, still heading across the yard. But Milliardo had no trouble keeping up with her, taking one swift stride to her two.

            "Listen to me, Relena," he yelled over the roar of the fire, the shouts of men and the screams of terrified animals. "You can't –,"

            "I have to!" She was running now, only a few yards from the stables. Milliardo tackled her, his momentum pushing her to the ground. Her chin bounced on gravel, but she didn't care. She had to get to Trowa.

            "Damn it, Relena," Milliardo's voice hissed urgently in her ear, "Most of the Barton family's already trapped in there!"

            "No!"

            "When the fire broke out, Une and Treize tried to help save the animals and the ranch records stored in the office."

            Struggling to a sitting position, Relena clamped a trembling hand over her mouth and shook her head, staring at the burning building. Originally two stories, the stable had an upper floor used for storage and an office. The horses, the pride of the Barton ranch, had been boxed in stalls on the ground level. Relena thought she would retch.

            "The fire department will be here soon," Milliardo said, his voice rough from the smoke, his strong arms holding her back. "There's nothing anyone can do until they get here."

            "We can't just sit here and watch them burn!" she choked out, feeling helpless.

            Sirens screamed nearby and heavy tires crunched on the gravel. Red and white lights flashed through the smoke. A paramedic van ground to a stop, followed by a red car from the fire department. Three huge, rumbling trucks roared behind.

            The fire chief threw open the door of his car and shoved a bullhorn to his mouth. "Everybody get back!" he ordered, his eyes searching the grounds as he waved to the driver of the pumper truck. "There's a lake around behind!" The truck tore around the main house to the large pond now reflecting scarlet. Firemen jumped from the trucks, dragging heavy canvas hoses toward the stables. "I want that barn contained and the surrounding buildings covered. We can't trust the wind today."
            Water began jetting from the hoses, arcing high in the air before spraying over the burning building, sizzling as the first jets hit scorched timbers. Relena broke away from her brother and ran to the chief, Milliardo on her heels. "You've got to save them! Relena cried over the deafening cacophony of pumps, screams, the roar of the fire and her own, hammering heart.

            "The horses, or –?"

            "The Bartons are in there," Milliardo clarified, yanking a thumb toward the stables. "They might be upstairs in the office or on the ground floor. They were trying to save the stock –,"

            "Christ!" the chief swore. "How many?"

            "Five – no, four. Trowa and his parents, Trieze and Une. And…and Dad, Matthew Dorlian, the ranch foreman."

            "Dad too?" Relena whispered hoarsely.

            "That's it?" the chief demanded, his tired eyes narrowing on Milliardo. "What about Mark Barton and the other Barton son – what's his name?"

            "Duo," Relena murmured, thinking of Trowa's younger, daredevil brother and praying that he was safe.

            Milliardo shook his head. "Mark and Duo are in town, and I think the rest of the hands are accounted for."

            "Make sure," the chief insisted. Snapping the bullhorn over his mouth again, he barked, "Okay, we've got four people trapped inside, possibly more. Upstairs and down. Get 'em out!" He glanced back at Relena and must have read the dread on her face. "Get her out of here," he said to Milliardo. "There's nothing she can do."

            "I'm not leaving," she insisted.

            "Come on, Relena –"

            "Not when Trowa and Dad are in there. No way!" She started forward and tripped over a hose.

            "You're in the way, lady," the fire chief said.

            "Hey, Chief! We got one!" One of the firemen was dragging a coughing, soot-streaked man from the fire. Relena tried to run forward, but Milliardo's arms tightened around her waist.

            "Maybe you don't want to see this," he said.

            "Let me go!"

            "It might be Trowa –"

            "Then I have to be with him!" Her heart pounding with dread, she shook him off and started running.

            The paramedics reached the rescued man first. They were already working over him, forcing oxygen into his lungs when Relena recognized her father, his face black, his white hair singed.

            "Thank God," she whispered, falling to the ground near him.

            "Hey, lady, give us a break! We need a little room," one paramedic snapped, and she backed away on her knees, her eyes glued to her father's face. Gray beneath the streaks of soot, his skin looked slack and old. His thick white hair had been singed yellow and he was coughing so hard he nearly threw up.

            But he was alive. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently.

            Her father blinked rapidly, still coughing, his eyes unfocused.

            "Get him into an ambulance," the fire chief ordered. He glared grimly at her father. "You see anyone else in there?"

            "I-I don't know," he mumbled, still coughing.

            The paramedic glanced at the fire chief. "He wouldn't know. He's three sheets to the wind."

            Relena swallowed back a hot retort as she leaned over her father and smelled the familiar scent of whiskey on his breath.

            A pickup roared down the drive and slammed to a stop. The driver, Trowa's younger brother, Duo, jumped out of the cab and started forward, his boots crunching on gravel as he ran faster and faster toward the fire chief. "What the hell's going on here?" he asked, his face white as he stared at the stables. Orange flames shot out of the roof and heat rippled in sickening waves from the inferno.

            Matthew coughed loudly and stirred, his red-rimmed eyes focusing on his daughter. "Relena, girl?" he murmured, cracking a weary smile.

            "Thank God, you're all right!" She wrapped her arms around his grimy work shirt, buried her head in his chest. "Did you see Trowa?"

            "You were with him," Matthew said. He shook his head. "No one –,"

            "But Trowa's in there! So are his parents," she protested, her head snapping up.

            "Oh, God!" Duo cried. Without thinking he started for the stables.

            "It's too late!" Milliardo yelled. "Duo! Stop! Damn him!"

            "Stay back!" the chief commanded through the horn. "Christ! Somebody stop him –,"

            A blast ripped through the stables, and the building exploded in a fiery burst. Glass shattered, spraying out. Timbers groaned and crashed to the ground. Flames crackled and reached to the sky in hellish yellow fingers. The earth shuddered.

            Relena fell to the ground sobbing, knowing in her heart that Trowa would never survive.

            "Come on, Rel," Milliardo whispered, picking her up and carrying her to his old, battered truck as the firemen and hands recovered and scurried toward the stables.

            As if in a dream, Relena saw her father being loaded into the ambulance, felt the scratchy denim of Milliardo's jacket against her cheek. "There's nothing more we can do here," Milliardo said softly. "I don't think there's anything anyone can."

            "But Trowa…"

            "I know, Rel. I know."

And that's only the prologue…

Reviews?