Chapter 14

There was little traffic on the highway on the way to the Dermail Mansion on the outskirts of the city. Quatre was relieved because in his state of mind, he doubted he could deal rationally with bad drivers. As it was, he drove too fast and weaved carelessly around cars that got in his way. All he could think about was what he was probably going to do and how broken his heart had become. He had fallen in love with Dorothy Catalonia a long time ago, and not a day had gone by since she left him that he didn't feel as though a part of him had gone with her. If he was forced to kill her tonight, he didn't know how he would be able to go on.

When he arrived at the Dermail estate, the high, cast iron gates were closed, but as he pulled up into the drive, he didn't have a chance to open the window to press the security intercom before the gates swung slowly open. The approach to the mansion took him through a wooded area that was eerily dark, but as the trees thinned and blended into a poorly tended lawn, Quatre could see the mansion looming in the distance, dark and foreboding. He half-expected bats to fly out from the turrets and the dragon shaped gutter spouts to spread their wings and take to the skies. Quatre shuddered as he imagined Dorothy growing up in such a place. Was it any wonder that she had evolved into the unstable woman she had become?

As he drew closer to the mansion, he saw that a couple of rooms on the lower level were lit, but the rest of the sprawling structure was shrouded in darkness. This was so surreal that Quatre caught himself hoping he would awaken from this nightmare.

Pulling the car to a stop, Quatre reached into his leather jacket pocket to reassure himself that he would have easy access to the gun. For a few moments, he sat in the dark car outside the main entrance to the residence of the Dermail family and convinced himself that what he had to do was necessary. Before leaving to inform Sadirah of what Dorothy had demanded, Barak reminded Quatre that Dorothy had proven herself untrustworthy. Even if he did give in to her demands, she probably wouldn't be satisfied until she had destroyed him completely. Barak didn't realize that she already had.

The double front doors were not locked. Stepping inside the huge vaulted ceiling foyer, Quatre was struck by the wealth that it must have taken to build the Dermail Mansion. The family had supplied armies on both sides of wars for generations with the weapons needed to continue the conflicts. In the last war, they had overstepped their power by inciting the war themselves when it had appeared that humanity was on the brink of understanding that peace was preferable to the devastation and misery caused by war. That had been the beginning of their decline. Tonight would probably complete the process.

Few lights illuminated the obvious path he was expected to take toward what appeared to be a library. Slipping his hand in his pocket to grip the gun, Quatre moved through the open door and stopped just inside the room. The large room was ringed with high shelves containing many old volumes of books, and the musty odor of disuse mingled with the old leather book coverings and a faint lemon scent from the wax the made the wooden floors shine.

Looking ahead, he saw her sitting behind a huge mahogany desk that was set before a large window. He was disoriented to see her wearing her OZ uniform, and looking at her face, he hoped to see some sign that she might yet come to her senses. But she stared straight ahead at him with no emotion, and he had difficulty believing that only two nights ago they had been together as intimately as a man and woman could. She must have been planning this even then. Her hands were under the desk, so Quatre assumed she was holding a gun, the gun she had fired at her house.

"I am here," he said as he came to stop in the middle of the room. "Where is my daughter?"

Dorothy turned her head to the side, and from behind the thick velvet drapes that lined the window, Jamila stepped out. Clutching a teddy bear to her, she walked toward Dorothy. When she reached her side, Jamila turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed to be pale. Quatre knew that she must be terrified, and he was infuriated that Dorothy would put her through this.

"Are you all right, Jamila?" he asked her gently.

Jamila nodded, but she glanced at Dorothy and seemed to want to say something, but Quatre saw Dorothy shake her head. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and she clutched the teddy bear closer, burying her face in the plush toy.

"What do you want?" Quatre demanded angrily. His heart ached to see Jamila's distress.

Dorothy didn't speak for a moment, then she said, "Financing the takeover of a government is rather expensive. At the moment, I am a little short of the funds, so I will need a little help."

"What kind of help are you talking about?"

"Does it matter?" She raised a brow. "Have you actually determined the highest price you will pay for Jamila's release?"

"Of course not! I'd give it all up to get her back safely." Quatre couldn't believe she would ask such a question. He took a step closer to the desk, but she didn't move or threaten him with the gun he was sure she was hiding.

"I want the access code to your accounts," she said coolly.

Quatre took another step forward, and still she didn't do so much as flinch. "You have completely lost your mind, Dorothy! I have no intention of giving someone like you access to the fortune my family has spent generations building in pursuits other than war."

"Someone like me?" she repeated. She bowed her head for a moment, so Quatre took the opportunity to pull out the gun.

"No, papa!" Jamila threw her arms around Dorothy to shield her from him. "Do not hurt, Miss Dorothy!"

"Move away from her, Jamila, before she hurts you." Quatre held the gun steady on Dorothy. "Let her go, Miss Dorothy."

She raised a brow and glanced down at the little girl holding her tightly, having dropped the teddy bear to the floor. Quatre frowned as he realized that Dorothy wasn't holding Jamila at all. She had completely manipulated the four-year old to help her.

"My aim is better than you think," he warned her although his hand was visibly shaking. If he didn't get control of his emotions, he was going to end up shooting himself.

"If you value your daughter's safety, then I suggest you give me the code." Although Jamila was sobbing against her bosom, Dorothy hadn't taken her eyes from him, and her complete emotional detachment helped him recapture his purpose.

"I'm not a fool, Dorothy," he told her as he tried to aim the gun. Seeing her in the sights made his resolve waiver again. How could he shoot her? Memories of her crashed through his mind, one after another, of the confused girl that had challenged and defeated him on the Libra, the vulnerable young woman that had placed herself in his hands in Barbados as she revealed her heart to him. He couldn't love any woman as much as he loved her. Could she have planned that as well? Was she that devious?

Jamila turned her face to look at him. His daughter blindly trusted her. Why couldn't he?

Before he could find an answer to the question, the drapery from which Jamila had emerged moved again, but this time Randolph Morrison stepped out. In his hand he held a gun.

"This is really taking too much time, Mr. Winner." Quatre couldn't react fast enough to prevent him from reaching Dorothy and Jamila. Morrison seized a handful of Dorothy's hair, jerked her head back and shoved the barrel of the gun against her temple. "I don't have all night, Winner. Put the gun on the floor and kick it over here unless you want her brains on the walls."

His heart dropped into his stomach as Quatre realized that Dorothy was as much a prisoner as Jamila. Her hands were on the desk now, and he could see that they were tied at the wrists with rope. The smirk on Morrison's face convinced Quatre that he wouldn't think twice about killing Dorothy, and then Jamila would be in his power.

Placing the gun on the floor, he put his foot on it and gave it a push that sent it sliding across the waxed surface so that it came to a stop just before the desk. He then put his hands up. "Let them go," he said more calmly than he felt. "I'll give you the codes when they have gone."

Morrison snorted derisively. "You'll give me the codes, and then I'll let the brat go. As for Miss Dorothy," He caressed her cheek with the barrel of the gun before moving it down to jam into her ribs below her left breast. "She broke your heart, Winner. Seems like a fitting place to put the bullet just before you take your own life."

"Leave Miss Dorothy alone!" shouted Jamila as she launched herself at Morrison. When he struck her face with the back of his hand, Dorothy suddenly shot up from the chair and swung the fist she had made with her clasped hands, but she didn't aim for his face. She hit his shoulder, and Morrison howled with pain and stumbled back, the gun dropping from his hand. Dorothy bolted from the chair, and although her hands were tied, she managed to grab a handful of Jamila's clothing, and she was able to pull her up from the floor.

"The gun!" she shouted to Quatre as she stumbled to the door, dragging his daughter with her.

Quatre scrambled for the gun several feet away and managed to get it just as Morrison reached the gun that had fallen from his hand. He saw that there was blood seeping into the cloth of Morrison's jacket where Dorothy had struck him. Quatre realized that Dorothy must have shot Morrison at her house before he took both her and Jamila prisoner. But if he had been shot, how did Morrison manage to subdue Dorothy?

"Step away from the gun," he ordered Morrison. Remembering how he had threatened Dorothy and struck Jamila, Quatre had to force himself not to empty his gun into the man. But he could not mete out justice. That was for the authorities.

Quatre reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, which he was able to snap open and turn on as he kept the gun on Morrison. He was about to press the button to dial the emergency number when the door to the library opened and Hassan Barak walked in accompanied by Yaqob bin Haroon.

Sighing with relief, Quatre shut the phone and turned to his father-in-law. "I was about to call the police to arrest Morrison."

Barak flipped out his own phone, dialed a number, and then said, "She has left the library. Jamila is with her." Without saying anything to Quatre, he turned to the hulking form of his brother-in-law. "Yaqob, go find them."

Quatre watched him leave the room, then turned back to Barak. "Miss Dorothy doesn't have anything to do with Jamila's kidnapping. Randolph Morrison was behind it all."

"I know." He held out his gloved hand. "You had better give me the gun before the authorities get here."

Not wanting to touch the gun any longer than necessary, he handed it over and was suddenly alarmed by Morrison's outburst of laughter.

"You are a fool!" exclaimed Morrison with a snort and started around the desk toward them. He didn't seem at all worried about Barak holding the gun on him. "I'll take the gun and kill that bitch first." He winced as he moved his bleeding shoulder. "I owe her."

When Morrison reached for the gun, Barak raised it and fired. There was a surprised look on Morrison's face as he fell back on the floor with a hole in his head. A wave of nausea rolled through Quatre, but he swallowed it back and took his attention from the profusely bleeding corpse on the floor.

Barak turned to face him. "We will have to wait a few moments before finishing. With forensic technology as it is, I might find it difficult to explain how you could be dead before Dorothy Catalonia if you are to be the one who kills her."

Quatre looked from the body on the floor to his father-in-law. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you really so naive, Master Quatre?"

Quatre didn't want to believe what was becoming clear to him. "You planned this?"

Barak gave him a self-congratulatory smile and nod. "I don't think I did too badly considering the short amount of time I had to work with. I thought I was going to be able to wait until we returned to L4 and you discovered the existence of the mobile doll factory on X7350."

"That was your doing?" Quatre shouldn't be surprised, but he was.

"Very careful planning went into building that factory. I found unrealized plans for it in the hidden archives of Duke Dermail. I was able to send them through traceable channels from Dorothy Catalonia's accounts to Mahmad Al-Jazar, although she never really sent them and he never actually received them or knows anything about the factory. But I was able to implicate them, both for you to mistrust them and for the Preventers to be thrown off the track."

Quatre stared at him incredulously. "I trusted you!"

"So said your father, but he never trusted me enough to give me complete access to his accounts. Every decision I made, he second guessed me. When I tired of his meddling in my handling of the business, I turned to OZ." Barak sighed and shook his head. "That was a mistake on my part. I thought I could persuade your father to become their ally, but he stubbornly refused, and he died without giving me the means to join OZ. Instead, they turned on me, took my wife and daughter, torturing them until Sadirah's mother took her own life rather than live with the shame of what they had done to her. You don't want to know what they did to Sadirah."

"You are blaming my family for what happened?" Outraged, he clenched his fists impotently at his side, very much aware that Barak held the gun. "You brought that on yourself! And if my father didn't trust you, he was obviously a better judge of character than I gave him credit for."

Barak shrugged. "In the end, I will come out ahead, and you will be gone. I had decided that I would see you married to Sadirah, that it was the least the Winner family could do after how she had suffered. But just when she was on the brink of womanhood and promising to be the stunning beauty that she has become, Dorothy Catalonia had to step into the picture."

"If you are talking about Barbados, she stepped out of the picture and I did marry Sadirah, just as you wanted." Quatre glanced toward the desk, and on the floor, he saw another gun, the one Morrison had been holding. If he kept Barak talking long enough, perhaps he would relax his diligence and Quatre would be able to make a dash for it.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you now since you won't be seeing the light of dawn anyway." Barak's smile was sickening. "You don't remember anything about that night, when we closed the deal in Barbados. That is because I added something special to your drink, and I paid some lovely young ladies who were already intimately acquainted with you to take you home. I'm afraid Miss Dorothy wasn't too happy with about the private party you had with them."

Quatre didn't think the man could stoop any lower. "Why didn't she give me a chance to explain? Was that your doing too?"

"As I suspected, her pride sent her running home, so I found her at the airport and explained to her that you would soon be marrying my daughter. She seemed to realize that you had no intention of extending the relationship beyond the trip to Barbados, that she was just a casual encounter on your vacation, one of many, I might add."

"You told her that?!" Quatre took a step toward him, but Barak leveled the gun at him, reminding him who had the power. "Knowing how I felt, you deliberately kept us apart!"

"I was afraid you would go to Earth to see her in person," Barak continued to explain. "So I sent for Sadirah, hoping that you would find her irresistible..."

"She was little more than a child!" Quatre was furious to realize that Barak had used Sadirah to seduce him.

"That didn't really matter to you, did it?" Barak sneered at him contemptuously.

"I don't remember that night. You drugged me then, too, didn't you?"

"Does it matter? I didn't hear you complaining these last few years to have my daughter at your side."

"Only for Jamila's sake," Quatre told him. "I have never felt a connection to Sadirah."

"What differences does it make how Jamila came into being? Once you are gone, she will be a very wealthy child, and I will be taking on the role of her guardian."

If Quatre hadn't had Jamila tested thoroughly, he wouldn't believe she was his, especially knowing now what he did about Barak's scheming. "So you planned this little rendezvous at the Dermail Mansion with Dorothy and Randolph Morrison?"

"I told you, I had to act fast. When you told me that you were leaving Sadirah, I knew something had to be done. You don't actually believe that I would let that OZ bitch take my daughter's place? She was starting to discover the threads of my plans, and I didn't really want her pulling them and unraveling my hard work. Jamila provided the means to dispose of Morrison who was getting greedy, Dorothy Catalonia who was getting a little too close to the truth for comfort, and you who are no longer essential to my plans."

"Which are?" Quatre glanced again toward the gun. He gauged it about three steps away near the wall.

"After the destabilization of Al-Jazar's government, I hope to step in with the same type of leadership that the Winner family has given L4. I realize there will be an unpleasant scandal when the press reports how you confronted your whore and her lover in their scheme to kidnap your daughter. You shot and killed them both, then took your own life."

"You think that story is plausible?"

"Why wouldn't anyone believe it? Rashid will report that you were having an affair with Dorothy Catalonia. The Preventers know about that as well. You didn't even tell Heero Yuy where you were going when you left. I'm sure he will think that you were coldly planning your revenge and didn't want him in the way."

Barak had everything planned to the last detail. Quatre had to give the man some grudging credit for how well the plan was turning out. "Did you also order the hit on Atifah?"

"I had paid that fool Khalid to kill both her and Dorothy Catalonia. I had forgotten that Dorothy Catalonia was a Preventer agent and would probably use her instincts to avoid the attack."

"Why did you kill Atifah? Because he knew that Sadirah was beating Jamila?"

Barak frowned. "Atifah overheard something that she shouldn't have. Let's just leave it at that."

Quatre might have questioned him further, had his phone not begun ringing. The distraction was enough for him to take two steps toward the gun, then dive and roll on the floor just as Barak fired two shots at him. He almost missed grabbing the abandoned gun, but he was able to seize the handle, then roll behind the desk.

"You're not going to escape," Barak warned him. "And even if you do, I have the gun registered in your name. Morrison is dead, and Dorothy Catalonia will be as well, with bullets fired by your gun. Do you think anyone will believe the story of an insanely jealous man?"

Quatre checked the gun for bullets and saw that he had five remaining in the chamber. He quickly popped up and fired two in the direction Barak had been standing, but the man had moved, and before Quatre could redirect, Barak fired at him again. The bullet whizzed past his ear and shattered the glass of the window behind him. Quatre covered himself against the raining shards of glass, and noticed just barely in time that Barak had come around the desk. He rolled around the other side, stood and fired again.

Barak stumbled back as a bullet lodged in his thigh.

Quatre straightened and aimed the gun at his chest. "Drop the gun."

Barak sneered at him. "You couldn't kill me, Quatre. You're a softhearted fool."

The door to the library opened again, and Quatre glanced toward it. He was not surprised to see Sadirah enter. Dressed entirely in black, she was carrying a gun. He had little doubt that she was here to help her father.

"Don't take another step," he warned her, "or I'm going to shoot him, and this time I'll take better aim."

Sadirah stared at Quatre speechlessly for a moment, then turned to look at her father, her head tilted in a strange angle as she looked at him wide-eyed. Before Quatre could react, she raised her gun and shot two bullets at him, one in his heart, the other in his head. Quatre looked away from the mess splattered against the wall after Barak's lifeless body collapsed into a heap to the floor.

"What are you going to do now that you have no bargaining chip?" she asked Quatre coolly.

Quatre's stomach was heaving, but he managed to point the gun at her. "I guess we are at an impasse."

"Not quite." She threw back her dark hair and called out. "Bring them in, Yaqob."

Yaqob returned to the library, herding Dorothy who hadn't managed to untie her hands. Jamila was holding his hand, trusting the giant man who was her mother's uncle. Seeing the carnage in the room, Jamila started to shriek hysterically.

"Shut up, you little bastard!" Sadirah swung around and struck the little girl with the hand holding the gun.

When Dorothy awoke, she felt weak and helpless, and the light from the windows was so blinding that she had to close her eyes again. Her head was aching, and she could barely lift it to see that she had an intravenous line. She could hear the steady beeping of a monitor, and she realized that she wasn't breathing on her own. She fought the rising panic and failed, and she could hear machine alarms go off as her heart rate rose dramatically. Although she could barely raise her hand, Dorothy tried to claw off the tubing from the respirator.

The door swung open, and a virtual army of nurses rushed in. Two held her down while another injected her with something that soon made her blood run cold and her nerves stop tingling. Although she was having difficulty focusing, Dorothy heard a nurse explain that they would remove the breathing tube now that she was awake. Although the procedure was momentarily painful, Dorothy couldn't move to protest and was relieved when it was accomplished. The nurses checked her pulse, poked and prodded her, but Dorothy didn't really feel as if she were there. Thankfully she drifted off to sleep.

Waking some time later in the afternoon, Dorothy felt strong enough to press the button for the nurse. A cheery, middle-aged woman bustled into the room, but Dorothy couldn't tell her immediately what she wanted, so the woman raised her bed so she could sit up, then handed her a glass of water. Dorothy drank enough so that her throat wouldn't be so dry.

"Can I see my baby?" she asked, her voice so hoarse that she could barely understand herself.

The nurse's smile faded, and she seemed flustered, muttered something about getting the doctor and hurried out of the room.

Dorothy stared at the closed door for a moment, then glanced out the window. She could see the mountains in the distance and the sun sinking behind the peaks. By the time the doctor arrived, the room was in complete darkness, not because Dorothy couldn't turn on the lights, but because she just didn't want them on.

Dr. Richter turned on a low lamp near the bed. "I checked on you earlier today while you were sleeping," he said as he looked over her chart. "You've made remarkable improvement since waking."

She wanted to ask him about her little girl, but Dorothy had a lump in her throat. If she asked, she would hear something she didn't want to hear. She had enough time to realize what had happened.

Dr. Richter stared at her, his brown gaze soft. He reached out to lay his hand over hers, which were twisted together on her flat belly. Dorothy barely listened to his long speech filled with medical terminology. He told her it was a miracle that she had survived, and that she had been in a coma for almost two weeks.

Finally he said, "We couldn't save her, Dorothy. Sometimes despite all the technology at our disposal, we can't hold back death. I don't know what your beliefs are, Dorothy, but I'm sure your sweet little girl is an angel now."

Dorothy stared at him. She thought she should cry, but she felt numb and disoriented. "What...what has become of her?"

"Greta Huffmann took care of the arrangements," he told her. "She had a lovely service. Unfortunately, we weren't sure what you wished to name your daughter, so I took the liberty of giving her the name of Angelina Maria."

She looked at him. "You have an unhealthy obsession with angels, doctor."

One corner of his lips raised in a half-smile. "I have delivered quite a few since becoming a doctor. I haven't lost many, but I think I will remember Angelina Maria Catalonia for the rest of my life."

Dorothy didn't dwell on her loss. What was the use? She was back where she started except for the nagging feelings she had for Quatre Winner. When she was pregnant, she explained them as a consequence of carrying his child. She had thought they would be gone after losing the baby, but they lingered like a terminal illness.

Greta and Albert visited her every day as they had been doing since she had lapsed into a coma. Greta was so saddened by Dorothy's loss that she was difficult to be around, and Albert was stoically silent. As her health improved, Dorothy was looking forward to leaving the hospital, but she didn't want to return to the family she had made with Greta and Albert. She needed some distance from them and the memories they stirred that were too difficult for her. Greta was beside herself with tears on the day Dorothy left the hospital because Dorothy had already made plans to take a flight back home. She needed to get on with her life. After Dorothy signed the deed to the chalet over to Greta and Albert, she hugged and kissed them goodbye.

Dr. Richter stopped in to see her before she left, checked her over and pronounced her fit. He told her that she shouldn't have any trouble if she chose to have another baby. Dorothy thought the odds of that were quite slim, but she didn't tell him so. He flirted with her all the way to the limousine that was waiting to take her to the airport. Before she left, he assured her that she need not worry that her secrets would safe with him.

On the way to the airport, Dorothy directed the driver to the shopping center where she purchased some clothing. Most of what she owned did not fit because she had completely lost what remained of her slim figure. She had filled out in a way that made men turn their heads to look at her. Dorothy wasn't sure she liked the attention.

As she was leaving the shopping center, Dorothy suddenly noticed a small shop that she hadn't seen in her previous visits. Pausing to look in the glass windows, her attention was drawn by the figurine of an angel. Delicate and beautiful, the long, flowing hair of the angel seemed to be the same shade as sun-bleached hair that she couldn't get out of her mind and blue eyes the color of which haunted her dreams. A small placard with the artist's name and the name of the piece, Angelina Maria, almost made her smile when she realized that Dr. Richter must have seen the small statue. But Dorothy couldn't smile as she stared at the angel. For some reason, looking at the angel soothed the constant ache she felt in her heart. The salesclerk quoted her a price in an almost apologetic manner, and Dorothy paid twice the amount with no regret. When she held the angel in her hands, she didn't feel quite so alone. Maybe Dr. Richter was right, that her baby was an angel.

The first thing she had done upon returning home was to pack away everything that had been in the nursery. The maid didn't ask any questions, so Dorothy didn't offer any explanations. She donated the clothing to charity as well as most of the furniture, but she kept a few things just because she liked them. One teddy bear in particular remained because Dorothy had wanted one as a child and had never been given one. Her mother considered such toys frivolous and potentially filthy. Her father had given her a sword instead. A real sword, not a plastic replica, and the first thing she had done with it was accidentally cut her own fingers on the blade. Her parents weren't around anymore to tell her that she couldn't keep the teddy bear.

She remained secluded in her home, sleeping off exhaustion and trying to regain some sense of purpose in her life. A few weeks after her return, she received a call from Relena informing her that she would be having supper with her that evening. Dorothy didn't have a chance to refuse before Relena hung up. Although she hadn't wanted to go out, she decided to meet Relena at the restaurant. Relena was sitting with Heero Yuy, and the two seemed so cozy that Dorothy almost turned on her heel and left, but Heero saw her and released Relena's hand which he had been holding so that he could leave the table to escort Dorothy.

Relena hugged her and kissed her cheeks. Standing back she said, "You look so much better than the last time I saw you."

The last time she had seen her, Dorothy had been suffering from morning sickness. "I'm feeling better."

"You didn't break your neck," Heero observed.

No, thought Dorothy, but her heart was completed severed in two pieces. "I needed to get away."

"You should have invited me," remarked Relena. "I could use the vacation. I would especially like to get that tan you had."

The waiter came by their table and Dorothy ordered a glass of wine. Dorothy felt more comfortable once she had drained half the glass, but she still preferred to be at home where it was quiet and dark. She had even considered reopening the Dermail Mansion. On the way to the restaurant she had driven by it and wondered if she might feel better in her old home. After all, she had purchased her new home only because she expected to raise a child there. She wouldn't have to worry about that now.

"I can't believe that Quatre Winner has gotten married and didn't invite any of us," she heard Relena say.

Dorothy tried not to look interested although her broken heart was beating so fast that she could barely breathe.

"Under the circumstances, I think he wanted to keep it quiet."

"What circumstances?" Dorothy wanted to finish her wine but she was sure they would see her hand shaking if she tried to raise the glass.

Relena laughed softly. "Quatre's been rather wild these past few years. I suppose with money and looks, you can get into all sorts of trouble."

Dorothy took a calming breath and remarked, "I read something about a relationship with his business manager's daughter."

"Sadirah Barak," said Relena with a nod. "I've seen pictures of her. She doesn't look sixteen. That would have made her fifteen when he got her pregnant."

"Fifteen," Dorothy repeated. She felt a mixture of emotions. Jealousy, disgust, relief.

"They had a kid before the nuptials," commented Heero before taking a drink from his beer. He was watching Dorothy over the rim of his glass.

The room seemed to close in around Dorothy, and she was afraid she was going to lose consciousness, but she managed to gain control of her emotions. "I think I read somewhere that the marriage had been arranged by both their parents some years ago."

"Odd for him to enjoy the honeymoon before the vows," said Heero. "I knew he was enjoying his bachelor status but I didn't think that included seducing innocent little girls."

Dorothy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew first hand that Quatre enjoyed seducing innocent little girls. Well, maybe she wasn't so little, but she had been innocent. Quatre hadn't seemed to have any kind of attack of conscience in Barbados, and given the date, Dorothy calculated that he must have gone straight to Sadirah Barak after he had returned from Barbados.

"So Quatre's a father." Relena raised her glass. "Let's have a toast. We all attended school together briefly, so I think it's appropriate. To Quatre's new life with his little girl."

"Which one?" asked Heero wryly. "His daughter or his wife?"

Dorothy didn't raise her glass, and she stood, thankful at least that she was able to do so. "You'll have to excuse me. I need to powder my nose."

Relena set aside her glass. "Shall I join you?"

Forcing a smile to her lips, Dorothy shook her head. "I'll be right back."

Once she was inside the powder room, Dorothy took several deep breaths to help force back the tears that were choking her. She called herself a fool a thousand times over for the feelings for Quatre that just wouldn't die, even now knowing that he had married another woman who had given him a child, the daughter that she thought she would hold in her arms. Dorothy was at the bottom of a very deep, dark pit, so very deep that she couldn't see even a pinpoint of light from above.

After splashing her face with some water and reapplying her makeup, Dorothy at least felt composed enough to return to the table and tell Relena and Heero that she didn't feel well. On the way back to the table, she had to pass by a table where several men wearing expensive suits were in some deep discussion. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Dorothy turned to see that one of the men wasn't paying any attention, but was watching her. She looked away and continued toward the table, and she noticed that Heero and Relena were watching her with puzzled looks on their faces. His brows raised, Heero looked past her, and Dorothy turned to see that the man had followed her.

He was good-looking in the usual way, and by his dress and the easy manner in which he carried himself, Dorothy knew he probably traveled in high social circles. But that kind of man wouldn't follow her like some eager teenager.

"Miss Darlian, I thought I saw you dining here." He stepped beside Dorothy to extend his hand to Relena. He was standing a bit close, but his warmth wasn't all that unpleasant.

Relena stood and shook hands with him. "Mr. Sheffield, I didn't realize you were on Earth." She looked at Dorothy and Heero. "This is James Sheffield, attaché to the ambassador of L3 colony. We have worked together on several occasions. James, these are my friends, Heero Yuy and Dorothy Catalonia."

He shook hands with Heero. "Pleased to meet you. I don't think I need to tell you that I've heard quite a bit about you." When he took Dorothy's hand, he raised it to his lips and brushed a warm kiss to her knuckles. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Catalonia." His hazel eyes met hers briefly before he released her hand.

Dorothy noticed Relena trying to hide a smile. The last thing she wanted was a romantic involvement, and certainly not the kind of romance a diplomatic attaché would offer. She barely listened to the small talk he made with Relena, and she was rather surprised that before he left, he turned to her and offered his card.

"If you aren't busy, Miss Catalonia, I'd like to have lunch with you some time." He gave her a nod, then returned to his table.

"Now I know why you wanted to go to the powder room alone," Relena chided her as she resumed her seat.

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Relena!" Dorothy had a clear view of the young man and she realized that he must have been watching them from his table.

"He is perfect," declared Relena. "Quite handsome, good family..."

"Are you trying to marry her off?" asked Heero with a derisive snort.

"Well, I have already guessed that her relationship with that other man..." She looked at Dorothy, "You never did tell us his name."

"I'm not going to either," she said. "And I don't need you to set me up with men." Dorothy stood. "I have lost my appetite. If you will excuse me, I will be heading home."

Heero grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down. "Relax. You don't have to plan the wedding just yet. Besides, that kind of guy just wants a girl to bang in this port."

"Heero!" Relena glared at him. "What kind of thing is that to say?"

"The truth."

Dorothy glanced at the other table. James Sheffield was watching her. Maybe that was what she needed to get her mind off her depression.

"Are you interested in working with the Preventers on a more permanent basis?" asked Heero, changing the subject and drawing her attention. "Bill Morley, head of covert operations, was impressed with your performance in Switzerland."

"She doesn't want to be a spy," snapped Relena. She smiled at Dorothy. "I have a better idea. Just the other day the public relations director was complaining that his people were not well received by the old nobility here. He asked if I knew someone who might be able to handle those kinds of people."

"Is that why you invited me here?" Dorothy should have realized that they didn't really want to socialize with her.

"No. But as long as you actually came out of your cave, I thought I would ask. Are you interested in a career in public relations?"

Dorothy didn't know the first thing about public relations. But she was trained in the areas that mattered most to the Preventers.

Relena handed her a card. "If you are interested, give him a call. I think that you would do a marvelous job."

Not to be outdone, Heero grabbed the card and scribbled a name and number on the back despite Relena's outraged gasp. "Call this one instead."

The rest of the dinner proceeded uneventfully, and Dorothy caught herself enjoying the night out. She was especially amused to see the sparks fly between Relena and Heero, and she was reminded of what a married old couple would be like. They disagreed on everything, up to and including the dessert they would share. Before she left, she agreed to get together with them again some time soon.

That night she slept better than she had for many days, and she realized it was because she had options for her life now. The following morning, she had a healthy appetite, surprising the maid with her request for a full breakfast. After showering and dressing, she searched inside her purse for the card she had carelessly tossed inside. The card she finally fished out was the card that James Sheffield had given her. Dorothy set it aside and found the other card. She glanced at both sides. It was a good day for a fresh start, so she called the public relations director's number, and getting his secretary, made an appointment for the afternoon. Dorothy wasn't sure she was doing the right thing, but it was better than doing nothing at all.

After hanging up the phone, she noticed the other card. Maybe it was time to make a fresh start all around. Remembering Heero's warning, Dorothy realized that James Sheffield was just the kind of man she needed: one that wouldn't try to touch her heart.

Acting without thinking, adrenaline rushing through her, Dorothy launched herself at Sadirah Barak although the other woman was still holding a gun and her own hands were tied together. She managed to strike her once, knocking her back, and feeling only mildly gratified to see blood pour from the corner of her mouth. Quatre raised his gun to shoot Sadirah, but another gunshot rang out, and the gun dropped from his hand as blood appeared on his upper arm.

Yaqob was aiming the gun at him. "I am sorry, Master Quatre. I cannot allow you to hurt Miss Sadirah."

Quatre was shaking with anger as he reached up to touch the wound the man had made on his arm. His face was white, and Dorothy could see that he was in turmoil. His gaze went from her to Jamila who was lying unconscious on the floor, a bleeding gash on her head. "Did you see what she did?" he demanded of Yaqob.

Yaqob nodded slowly. "Perhaps you should go to Missy Jamila."

Dorothy started toward Jamila as did Quatre, but Sadirah grabbed a handful of her long hair and jerked her back. "Where do you think you are going, you bitch?"

Dorothy tried to twist from her hold, but Sadirah held her tightly before jamming the gun under her chin. If it hadn't already happened several times already that day, Dorothy might have felt some fear. As it was, she had concluded that if Sadirah could so cold-heartedly kill her own father, then she would certainly have no qualms about blowing off her head.

"Aren't you afraid?" asked Sadirah.

Dorothy didn't blink as she met her eyes. "Afraid of you? Or afraid of death? The answer is no to both options. I've faced death before, and as for you, well you're just a lunatic holding a gun."

Sadirah gritted her teeth, and Dorothy could see that she was furious. "You think you are better than me, Dorothy Catalonia? How does it feel to know that Quatre Winner has been mine the last five years?"

"I'm still having a hard time getting past your obvious mental problems," remarked Dorothy.

Sadirah swung at her with the gun as she had Jamila, but Dorothy was expecting it, so she lunged at her and drove her shoulder into her belly. As Sadirah doubled over, Dorothy tried to get past her to get the gun Quatre had dropped. But Sadirah grabbed her ankle and pulled her down to the floor just out of reach of the gun. Sadirah struck her cheek with the gun, and as she was trying to claw her way back from the yawning blackness of unconsciousness, Sadirah tucked the gun into her belt and put her hands around Dorothy's throat.

"Insane? I'm insane?" She shouted as she squeezed and shook her, banging the back of her head on the floor. "Do you have any idea what they did to me? Do you know what I saw them do to my mother?" Sadirah had completely snapped, and her madness made her stronger than a woman of her size would normally be. "Don't you think I know who you are? Your father commanded those bastards! Your grandfather sent them to L4!"

Just when Dorothy thought she wouldn't be able to stay conscious with the lack of oxygen, Sadirah released her, stood and kicked her so hard in the ribs that Dorothy was sure some had cracked when she felt the blinding pain and her sudden shortness of breath.

"Stop, Sadirah!" Although her vision was blurry, Dorothy could see that Quatre was holding his unconscious daughter in his arms. "Jamila needs a doctor. You need a doctor."

Sadirah was shaking her head as she paced, muttering incomprehensibly to herself, the gun still in her hand. Stopping suddenly, she turned and aimed the gun, first at Quatre, then at the girl he held. "I don't care what she needs! I hope she dies! I hate her! I hate you both!"

Dorothy managed to get to her feet and throw herself at Sadirah just as the gun went off. A bullet tore a chunk of wood from the wall by Quatre's head. Sadirah turned and struck her down again, then aimed and fired, and Dorothy felt the hot lead bury into her shoulder. Sadirah pulled the trigger again, but there was only a click. Realizing that the gun had jammed and Dorothy had precious seconds, despite the pain, and the fact that her tied wrists hampered her as much as her injuries, Dorothy dived to the other gun. She grabbed it, rolled and fired twice, both bullets missing Sadirah.

Sadirah stopped trying to fix her gun and tossed it aside, then turned to face Dorothy as she lay on the floor, now taking careful aim at the deranged young woman. "Go ahead. Kill me! Do you think Yaqob will let you live? And if he does, do you think my peace loving, violence hating prick of a husband will forgive you? What about Jamila? Even if you manage to keep the truth from her, some day the bastard will know that her precious Miss Dorothy murdered her mother."

Dorothy's gaze met the dark eyes of the other woman. She knew that what Sadirah said was true, and yet if Dorothy didn't do something, Jamila, even if she did survive this night, was doomed to a lifetime of hell with this woman as her mother. Despite everything that Sadirah had done, Dorothy couldn't shoot and the gun dropped from her hand.

Sadirah threw back her head in scornful laughter, then sauntered to Yaqob who stood with the gun trained on Dorothy. "Give it to me, Yaqob. I want the pleasure of killing that whore myself."

Yaqob looked at the hand that she held out to him. "You...you wanted to kill Missy Jamila?"

Sadirah sighed impatiently. "Give me the gun, you fool!"

Yaqob looked from Jamila to Sadirah. "You...you aren't going to kill her, are you?"

"What do we need her for?" Sadirah frowned at her uncle. "Do I need to remind you what you have already done for me, Uncle Yaqob? Once we take care of these three, there will be no one left who knows our secrets."

Yaqob shook his head. "This is wrong, Sadirah."

"Give me the damn gun!" She reached out for it, but Yaqob suddenly swung and clubbed her on the side of the head.

Sadirah fell to her hands and knees. When she raised her face to him, Dorothy could see that blood was oozing from the wound he had made. "Why did you do that, Uncle Yaqob?"

There were tears in his dark eyes. "It isn't right, Sadirah. What we did is wrong! Killing them isn't going to make it right."

"I thought you loved me," she said in a voice so pitifully small that Dorothy was reminded of Jamila. "You are the only one who has ever tried to help me."

"I'm going to help you now, Sadirah." Slipping the gun into his belt, he put his huge hands around her slender neck. Sadirah clawed at him with her long nails, but he squeezed until his face was red with the effort and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Dorothy heard a snap, and Sadirah's arms dropped limply to her sides.

As Yaqob gently laid her body on the floor, Dorothy could hear the wail of sirens. Rising shakily to her feet, she wobbled across the room to Quatre who had risen and was holding the limp body of his daughter.

Almost afraid to learn the worst, Dorothy reached up with her still tied hands to feel for a pulse and was relieved to feel the steady rhythm at her neck.

"I think the police are here," she said although it took an effort to talk.

Quatre reached out to touch her, but Dorothy moved away. Now that the danger had passed, she couldn't help but remember how he had spoken to her when he had arrived, that he believed she could threaten Jamila and extort money from him in order to finance a war.

His hand dropped. "Dorothy..." Whatever he said was lost when a gunshot startled them both into turning back to see Yaqob's body fall beside Sadirah's. As Quatre quickly looked away, Dorothy saw that he had tears in his eyes. "I...I trusted them all."

Dorothy blinked back the tears in her own eyes. He had trusted them, but he couldn't trust her.

The door to the library crashed open, and instead of police, Preventer agents poured into the room. Heero Yuy was among the first, followed by Rashid and several of Quatre's men along with the security forces of the Earth Sphere United Nation. After making sure there was no threat in the room, Heero returned to them.

He spoke to Dorothy. "You look like hell. I called for an ambulance when I heard the gunshot, so it should be arriving any moment."

"How did you find us?" asked Quatre incredulously, shaking off Rashid who tried to take Jamila from him.

"Intuition," Heero told him, then added. "And the tracking system on your car."

Dorothy laughed, but it hurt so badly that she had to stop. She was starting to feel dizzy from the loss of blood, and she must have swayed because Heero caught her and lifted her in his arms.

From what seemed to be a long distance away, she heard Quatre talking to Heero as they left the library, but she couldn't make out what they were saying as her head swam and everything appeared fuzzy.

The last thing she heard was Heero saying, "I'll take care of everything."