Chapter 15

Quatre didn't have a right to expect Dorothy to see him after how badly he had misjudged her, but he was leaving for L4 the following morning, so he at least wanted the chance to tell her how ashamed he was. Having left Jamila with Rashid back at the hotel suite with one of his sisters whom had arrived almost a week ago, he drove to Dorothy's house alone. Jamila had wanted to go with him, but Quatre knew that they couldn't speak freely if she were there.

When he buzzed the security system, he waited anxiously, half-expecting her to refuse to see him. But after several moments, the lock clicked and Quatre was able to push the gate open. At the door he was greeted by a middle-aged woman who informed him that Miss Catalonia was in the garden, so he followed her through the house, thinking as he walked that he understood why Dorothy had chosen to live here instead of the Dermail Mansion. Here she wouldn't be haunted by the ghosts of a past she wanted to forget.

As they neared the garden, he heard talking and realized that she was not alone. As Dorothy knelt in the dirt applying mulch to her rose garden, Heero Yuy stood nearby tearing petals from a white rose.

"Mr. Winner is here to see you," announced the maid, who then discreetly left them.

Heero glanced at him but didn't say a word.

Dorothy stood and drew off her gloves. Her bruises were faded to a pale yellow that barely discolored her skin, and he knew that her wounds were healing. For becoming involved in his twisted life, she had received a concussion, two broken ribs and a gunshot wound to her shoulder. Quatre's wound had been superficial, but Jamila needed extra care for her head injury. If Dorothy hadn't acted, neither of them would be alive on this warm day.

When she looked at him, his heart ached to see that she seemed to feel nothing. "How is Jamila? Did you bring her?" Dorothy peered past him, then frowned in disappointment.

"I wanted to speak to you alone," he said with a glance at Heero who did not budge an inch from his perch on a stool he had brought out from the kitchen.

"We have nothing to say that you can't say in front of Heero Yuy." She turned away, and picking up a pruning shears began to trim the rosebush.

Quatre knew that this was the best he would get. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for Jamila."

"You could have sent a card," remarked Heero.

While he knew it was none of his business and probably never had been, Quatre wondered yet again about the relationship between Dorothy and Heero. He found it difficult to believe that any man could know her and not love her as much as he did. Quatre couldn't even think straight as he watched her clip away at the rosebush.

Dorothy didn't look at him. "I did what had to be done. I didn't really feel that I had a choice."

Quatre watched the clippings drift to the ground at her feet. If Heero Yuy weren't sitting two feet away watching as if he were attending a performance, he would say what was in his heart. Telling her what Barak had admitted made no difference in how things had turned out. Quatre had allowed himself to be manipulated to the point where he could suspect the worst of the woman he loved.

"I have to leave tomorrow," he finally said when his throat wasn't so tight. "There is unrest on my colony."

"You mean civil war?" asked Heero when Dorothy did not respond.

Quatre turned to speak to him. "Although you did an admirable job of covering up what happened, Hassan Barak's allies blame Mahmad Al-Jazar and suspect a terrorist attack."

Following their departure from the mansion, a fire had broken out and consumed most of the mansion before firefighters were able to contain the blaze. The media reported that Quatre had been considering purchasing the mansion, and that he and his family were guests of Dorothy Catalonia when the fire broke out during the night. The few that were saved by emergency personnel were officially treated for smoke inhalation and minor burns. Heero had done a thorough job of covering up what had really happened at the Dermail Mansion.

"Are you going back to fight?" Dorothy asked, only glancing at him before resuming her work.

"I have to try to make things right. I feel responsible for giving Hassan Barak too much power." Within the last few days Quatre had discovered that Barak had raised an army of supporters, waiting only for the construction of mobile suits to take up arms against a government they considered oppressive. Although he had supported Al-Jazar, that man had also destroyed his confidence by beginning the systematic execution of political dissidents. Quatre's conclusion was that power was corruptive. He wasn't sure what he would do when he returned to L4, but return he must because the Winner family had traditionally taken a leadership role on L4.

"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Heero slid off the stool and after a brief glance at Dorothy, he went into the house, leaving them alone.

Quatre looked at Dorothy. She was staring at the door to the kitchen, and then she turned to him. "I don't know why he did that when I had asked him to stay."

"I can't leave without telling you how sorry I am."

She spun away so that her back was to him. The pruning sheers dropped to the ground, and she put her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook and he could see that she was trembling.

Quatre put his hands on her shoulders for a moment, then slid his arms around her and held her close against him. As he put his face in her hair, he breathed in the scent of roses and earth and Dorothy. She tried to twist away from him, but he held her tight, wishing he would never have to let her go. When she finally relaxed in his embrace, he closed his eyes and remembered the moment in Barbados when she told him that she loved him. At first he had been startled by the depth of her feelings, almost frightened by the responsibility of having caused them until he realized that he felt the same for her. He wasn't sure how he would be able to carry on without Dorothy in his life, but he did know that he wasn't going to try to replace her. If he had to, he would wait forever for her to forgive him, and if she never did, he would accept it as nothing more than he deserved.

"I ... I thought I could recapture the dream," he heard her say.

He turned her around in his arms, then put his hand under her chin to raise her face to his. Her eyes were watery and strangely blurry until he realized that he had tears in his own eyes. "It has never been a dream."

"It has for me," she whispered. "And now it is over."

Quatre released her and dropped his arms to his sides. "I can't change what happened, Dorothy. I can't take back the things that I've said and done. Every day I will say a prayer that you can find forgiveness for me in your heart."

"I hope you can find comfort in your prayers." She turned stiffly away from him. "I think you should go."

As if on cue, Heero Yuy exited the kitchen to return to the garden. Quatre had little doubt that he listened to their entire conversation. "If you are headed back to the hotel, I'd appreciate a lift to the airport."

Frustrated by his interruption, Quatre wanted to refuse, especially since the airport was out of his way, but as Dorothy retrieved her shears from the ground and started to work on her roses again, he knew that their conversation was over.

He watched as leaves dropped around her feet as well as what appeared to be perfectly good roses. "I guess this is goodbye," he said.

"I guess it is," she said tersely.

Although Heero was watching with open interest, Quatre didn't like leaving as things stood between them now. "Dorothy..."

She spun to look at him, and there was anger in her blue eyes. "You came to say what you wanted, and the only thing you asked in return is my forgiveness. Well you can't have it! I know that Hassan Barak framed me because he wanted you to stay with his daughter. I know every horrible piece of evidence he presented to you. Do you know that Randolph Morrison gave me just as much reason to mistrust you? They had everything set up so that I would believe you were using me to further your own political ambitions, and I almost believed them."

"I wouldn't do such a thing," denied Quatre.

"I had no reason not to believe him," she said, clenching her fists at her side. "You didn't exactly show me your best side in Barbados. Everything he told me was plausible. And yet I knew here," She laid a hand on her chest. "That you wouldn't betray me." Her hand dropped to her side, and when her eyes met his, he could see sadness and confusion mingling with her anger. "I foolishly thought that you would feel the same, that you would never believe me capable of such treachery."

Quatre knew that he had completely destroyed her trust, and with a heavy heart he realized he could do nothing to regain it.

Tears gathered in her eyes. "You'll never know how deeply I am hurt that you could think for a moment that I would endanger your daughter. For that alone, I hate you! Now get out of my sight!"

Standing, Heero cocked his head toward the door. "Let's go."

Quatre met her gaze one last time, and he wasn't sure what he saw before she spun away and started hacking away at what remained of the rosebush she had been working on.

When they were in the car on the highway leading to the airport, Heero didn't say anything for several minutes, and Quatre was glad because he needed the time to gather his thoughts. In her place, he would feel the same. He had allowed their enemies to manipulate him, and for that he would pay a high price.

"I hear there's a fine line between love and hate," Heero remarked.

Quatre kept his eyes on the road. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Heero Yuy's sage advice. "What do you know?"

"That she's been nursing a broken heart for almost five years. Maybe something good can come of the ashes that you made of your relationship with her. You should have trusted her. I would have, given the circumstances. Give her some time."

"I have no choice. I have to return to L4."

"Then don't get yourself killed or she'll end up regretting her last words to you."

He fell silent then, probably to let Quatre think about what he had said. At least Heero had given him a ray of hope. Quatre didn't want to consider a future that didn't include Dorothy Catalonia.

"Where are you headed?" he asked Heero to distract himself. He didn't really care where the Preventers were sending him.

"Switzerland."

Quatre turned to look at him. "What will you be doing there?"

"Tying up some loose ends. One of your men was killed there, and forensics have determined that Yaqob bin Haroon killed him."

"I suspected that."

"We don't know why. I hope to find out." Heero glanced at him. "Were you acquainted with Dr. Niklaus Richter?"

The name was vaguely familiar, but Quatre couldn't place it. "I don't recall meeting a man by that name." He took the exit to the airport. "Should I know him?"

"His name is on your daughter's birth certificate. I thought you might have investigated Sadirah Barak's claims a little more thoroughly than you apparently have."

Quatre pulled to a stop before the terminal doors, then turned to look at Heero. "Are you trying to imply something?"

"Richter is dead, killed by a bullet fired by the same gun that killed Salim and ended Yaqob Haroon's life."

"Yaqob killed him? Why?"

"I intend to find out. What could he possibly be hiding about Sadirah Barak? Are you sure that Jamila is yours?"

"I couldn't be more certain. I had her tested so thoroughly after she was born that I'm surprised she was left with enough blood to survive." Quatre had felt ashamed after learning the conclusive results of all the genetic testing because he had not believed Sadirah's claim that he was Jamila's father. Now his doubts surfaced again, but there wasn't anything he would do if he found out Hassan Barak had managed to bribe every lab in the Earth Sphere United Nation to give the results he desired. Jamila had found a permanent place in Quatre's heart that had nothing to do with blood.

"Yaqob had a reason to kill the man. When I find out what it was, I'll let you know." Heero opened the door and stepped out, but he leaned back inside. "How is your little girl taking all this?"

Quatre sighed. "She's devastated. She doesn't even remember her mother hitting her, and I feel guilty with the lies we have told her. She hasn't said more than a few words since I brought her home from the hospital."

"Before you leave, you should let her visit Dorothy. I think it might do them both some good." Heero closed the door and stepped away from the curb, then turned and went into the airport terminal.

On the way back to the hotel, Quatre weighed the pros and cons of sending Jamila to Dorothy for a final visit before they left Earth. On the one hand, Jamila seemed to have bonded with Dorothy in a way that she never had with Sadirah. That was no longer surprising to him since Dorothy had shown her nothing but maternal kindness while Sadirah had beaten and scorned her probably all of her young life. On the other hand, Quatre was afraid that a visit to Dorothy might make memories of the night her mother died surface and Jamila would find it too difficult to handle.

By the time he reached the suite, he still wasn't sure what he would do. His sister, Hadya, who had arrived a week ago from L3 to care for Jamila, rose from the sofa and crossed the room to hug him. While he was glad to have her support, Quatre didn't know Hadya any better than any of his many other sisters. She lived the closest to Earth and had not balked at coming to help him through this trying time. He noticed that Jamila was lying on the sofa staring straight ahead at nothing in particular as she hugged a pillow.

"Your visit did not go well?" asked Hadya.

He realized he must have been wearing his feelings on his sleeve. "No. I don't think Miss Dorothy will be forgiving me any time soon, if ever."

As Hadya gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, he saw that Jamila sat up and turned to look at him.

"Papa, did you talk to Miss Dorothy? Why did you not take me with you?" There were tears in her blue eyes. "I wanted to talk to Miss Dorothy, too."

"You may see her tomorrow before we leave," he told her, his mind now made up. He crossed the room to sit on the sofa, pulling Jamila on his lap. "Rashid will take you."

Jamila laid her head on his chest where he felt an ache for his motherless daughter. In his mind he had imagined Dorothy filling the role Sadirah had played so poorly, but he had managed to screw that up just as much as he had his marriage. He felt sick to his stomach as he remembered the hatred in Sadirah's eyes as she aimed the gun at both him and Jamila. Had it not been for Dorothy, they would both be dead now. Even if Dorothy could forgive him for his mistrust, Quatre didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself for believing Dorothy capable of the things the Hassan Barak and his daughter had themselves done.

"Why do I have to go with Hadya?" asked Jamila. "Why can't I go home with you?"

Quatre reached up to stroke her blond hair, sifting his fingers through the platinum strands and thinking of the times that he had done the same thing to Dorothy's hair. Sighing, he answered his daughter. "You cannot go home, Jamila, because it is not safe. There is war on our colony."

"What is war?" she asked him.

He had hoped never to have to explain to his children what war was, but the hopes of his youth were in vain. He realized now that abolishing all mobile suits could not change the hearts of men and women, that greed and lust for power would always direct the actions of many to the point of causing the deaths of innocent men, women and children.

After he had explained in terms that he thought Jamila could understand, she said, "Why do you have to go? Are you going to get hurt? Are you going to go away forever like Grandpapa and Mama and Uncle Yaqob?"

Quatre held her close in his arms, and she buried her face in his neck where he could feel her hot tears. "It will be over soon, Jamila, and I will send for you."

As she wept, Quatre prayed that he was right.

After throwing a handful of birdseed some distance away from the bench where Dorothy settled with the morning paper and for a few minutes she watched the flock of pigeons and doves, fat already from her daily feeding. She then turned her attention to the children crawling over the play equipment while their mothers chatted with each other. Dorothy once thought she would be one of those mothers, perhaps like the woman who balanced a toddler on her hip, chatting with another woman while her daughter was climbing the ladder of the slide. Dorothy had planned to be part of this cozy neighborhood clique.

A pigeon landed on the back of the bench beside her.

Instead she was the bird lady.

Frowning, she reached into her back of seeds and tossed it several feet away. The pigeon was so fat she wondered how it could take flight, but it managed to do so and land somewhat ungracefully amongst the flock of birds that had been attracted to the new feeding ground. Dorothy caught the disapproving glances from the other women before they turned purposefully away from her. She raised her fingers, took aim and shot them all.

"That wasn't very nice, Miss Dorothy."

Blushing, Dorothy turned to see Rashid standing a few feet away. Jamila was holding his hand, but she released it and ran to her. Dorothy barely had a chance to stand before Jamila was hugging her. For several moments, nobody said anything, and then Rashid stepped forward.

"We will be leaving Earth in a few hours. Missy Jamila wished to say goodbye to you."

Leaving? Dorothy had to swallow her tears. If she started crying, neither of them would stop. "Why don't we go back to my house? Mrs. Milton was baking some tarts when I left, so maybe they are finished by now."

"I like tarts," commented Jamila as she stepped back. Dorothy thought she looked adorable in her matching skirt and jacket. She looked ready to travel.

Dorothy held out her hand and Jamila took it with no hesitation. "I was just feeding the birds."

"I knew you would be here," said Jamila. "When we saw you weren't home, I said to Rashid to bring me here."

Dorothy didn't really have anything else to do now that she was unemployed although Jamila didn't know that. "I'm glad you found me." She noticed that the women were watching her curiously and she was tempted to give them an obscene gesture, but that wouldn't be proper when she was with Jamila. Perhaps she would do it another time.

Unlike the last time they made the short trek to Dorothy's house, Jamila was quiet, and Dorothy could tell that Rashid was uncomfortable with his escort duty. When they reached the house, Rashid opted to stay outside to be on guard although Dorothy didn't seriously believe they had a threat now. He informed her that while Barak was dead, his allies could still use Jamila to extort money from Quatre. She thought about making a quip about Jamila's safety with her, but Quatre's mistrust hurt her too deeply.

Mrs. Milton fussed over her tarts, didn't want to give them up for anything but lunch for which she had prepared them, but Jamila's big, sad eyes convinced her to serve them with some hot chocolate. She then excused herself, explaining that she had some shopping to get done. Although Jamila had seemed delighted to have the tart, once she was alone with Dorothy, she picked at the crust, then moved around the cherries inside.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Dorothy. She didn't have much of an appetite for her tart either. Seeing the sadness of the little girl made her gut wrench and her heart twist painfully.

Jamila nodded. "We are leaving today."

"I know." Dorothy reached out to put her hand on Jamila's. "I will miss you."

Jamila's chin dropped to her chest.

Dorothy bit her own lip to keep it from quivering. Why was it so difficult to say goodbye to this little girl? She had met her only a few weeks ago, and yet Jamila had filled the place in her heart that she had made for her own child. Angelina Maria.

"I have to stay with Aunt Hadya," Jamila said, her voice small and pained. "Papa is going to fight a war."

Jamila was afraid that she was going to lose her father. Dorothy remembered how she felt when her own father was killed. She had been very upset because she never had a chance to make him proud of her. And her father had not been the loving, gentle father that Quatre was to his daughter. Dorothy knew that Quatre felt he had no choice, but she despaired that he chose to fight again.

"Your papa will be all right," she said.

Jamila didn't respond.

Dorothy stood. "Do you want to see my flowers again?"

Jamila slid off the chair and took Dorothy's hand. Once they were in the flower garden, she released her and allowed Jamila to move from one bloom to another, gently touching them and smelling them. Although Jamila did frown when she was standing before the bush that Dorothy had destroyed in her anger the previous afternoon. She couldn't very well go after Quatre Winner with the pruning shears, so she had to sacrifice one of her finest bushes.

"What happened?" asked Jamila.

"I was angry," confessed Dorothy.

Jamila turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy smiled. "It's not your fault, Jamila."

Two fat tears quickly formed and rolled down her cheeks. "My mama wanted to kill you."

Dorothy caught her breath as she realized Jamila was apologizing for her mother's actions. She quickly went to scoop Jamila into her arms and she hugged her tightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Jamila."

Jamila sobbed pitifully as she held Dorothy tightly, but Dorothy held her close to give her comfort until she was spent. When she was finished crying, Dorothy took her into the kitchen to wash away her tears, remembering as she did that they had done this before. Would Jamila ever know anything but heartache? If Quatre were killed on L4, Jamila would be destroyed. When Jamila had recovered, they returned to the tarts and rather chilled chocolate. This time Jamila took a few bites, but she was still troubled.

A knock at the door proceeded Rashid's entrance. "It is time to go, Missy Jamila."

Dorothy blinked back her tears as she walked them to the door. She hugged Jamila one last time wishing that she didn't have to let her go. How she managed to keep from crying, she didn't know. Rashid opened the door for her, and another of Quatre's men took Jamila to the car. Rashid stayed behind to speak to her.

"Master Quatre wanted you to have this." He handed Dorothy an envelope.

Dorothy was afraid it was some heart-wrenching letter that would make her foolishly throw her clothing in a bag and follow him to the end of the galaxy. But opening it, she saw that it was a legal document drawn up by lawyers and properly signed giving her guardianship of Jamila should anything happen to Quatre. She watched Jamila get into the limousine through her own tears, then looked at Rashid.

"Take care of them, Rashid."

He reached out to squeeze her hand. "I hope you can forgive him, Miss Dorothy. I know that he loves you." He released her then left to join the others in the limousine.

Dorothy didn't close the door until she couldn't see the limousine anymore. Then she put her back to the door, and for a few minutes she fought the tears that threatened to undo her completely. But if she hadn't learned anything else, she had by now that crying over what had become of her life did not help a bit. She was going to pick up the pieces and start again.

She needed a job to keep herself busy.

Dorothy knew she wouldn't have to look long, and although she had tried to deny it, her talents were best put to use one place.

Picking up the phone, she dialed the number she already knew, and when the secretary answered, she said, "I'd like to speak to Mr. Morley. Tell him it is Dorothy Catalonia."