Chapter 24

"Are you sure that you aren't going to attend the ball?"

Quatre looked up from the newspaper he had been staring at not reading a word printed to see that Trowa had come out of his room buttoning his dress shirt. After he left Jamila's party because he didn't think he could stand to be near Dorothy and Heero without causing a scene and making a fool of himself, he had lunch with Trowa. Although he hadn't seen Trowa in more than five years, they had become so close during the war the Quatre felt that he could confide anything in him. Trowa had listened with a sympathetic ear, but Quatre sensed that Trowa thought he had lost his mind.

The respectable life that Quatre had constructed for himself had disintegrated into a pile of muck reported on page two of the papers, that is when he wasn't screwing underage girls, and then his life was splashed on the front page. He didn't need to add murder to his list of accomplishments although if he actually did have the courage to shoot a gun, the moment he pulled the trigger would probably just feel as good as watching Heero Yuy fall into a bloody heap at Dorothy Catalonia's feet.

"That's not a healthy look on your face," commented Trowa as he joined Quatre on the couch. Quatre had given him a ride to the hotel his friend had booked, and seeing that it wasn't a pleasant venue, he offered Trowa one of the spare rooms at his suite. Trowa hadn't turned him down and Quatre was glad to have the company.

Quatre tried to smile, then gave up. "I need a drink."

"I'll get you some water." Trowa started to get up.

"I'd prefer something a little stronger."

Trowa smiled and sank back on the couch. "Sorry, Quatre, but I already searched the place top to bottom for some liquor and there isn't a drop to be had."

Because the hotel staff knew that Quatre didn't drink, that it was against his religion, they had the good stuff cleared out so not to offend him. To add insult to injury, he had smoked his last cigar on the way to the hotel and transportation services had misplaced his luggage. While they were extremely apologetic, Quatre was furious to discover that his luggage had been unloaded on L3 with Yaminah Al-Jazar. He could call room service to have some liquor delivered so that he could at least dull his senses a bit, but he knew some greedy bellhop would be reporting his indulgence to the papers before he delivered it to his room.

"So, are you going to stay here?" asked Trowa as he tried unsuccessfully to twist his tie into a bow.

Annoyed by his friend's lack of progress, Quatre leaned forward and did his tie for him. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"Clowns don't get invited to presidential formal balls very often," Trowa said with a chuckle. "I'm surprised that Relena invited me."

"I guess she can be more graceful about letting Heero go." Quatre's insides twisted and he felt acute pain in his heart. Maybe Relena didn't love Heero so it was easier for her to move on.

Trowa shook his head. "I still can't believe…" He was looking at Quatre oddly. "After what happened on the Libra…"

"Just spit it out! You can't believe I fell in love with that woman?"

"She must have really put some moves on you." Trowa chuckled suggestively.

Quatre gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, then fought the urge to strike his friend for making a comment like that about Dorothy. When he had relaxed a bit, he said, "I put the moves on her. I did to her what the press claims I do to several girls a day. Except in her case, I fell in love."

"Are you going to do anything about it? Are you just going to let Heero Yuy snatch her from you? The guy clearly doesn't deserve her." Trowa left the couch and headed back to his room. When he came out, he was carrying a tuxedo jacket over his arm. "Come to the ball with me and Relena."

The last thing Quatre wanted was to show up at the president's ball with the other jilted party. "I don't have anything to wear."

Trowa chuckled. "I'm sure the hotel can arrange to send a tailor."

"I'm not going." Quatre needed some time to think this problem through. Watching Dorothy glide around a ballroom in Heero Yuy's arms was only going to make him do something incredibly stupid. If he had a little more time, he could find a way to control his jumpy nerves and aching heart.

The doorbell to the suite rang, and Quatre turned to watch a butler cross the room to answer it. He announced the arrival of Relena Darlian, then stepped aside for her to enter, taking her satin and fur wrap. She went to Trowa first to kiss his cheeks.

"My, my, my, I'm going to have to fight off the women tonight in order to get a dance with you, Mr. Barton. Why is it that you haven't been snagged by some lucky woman?"

Trowa laughed, then allowed her to help him on with the jacket. "I guess most women aren't interested in guys who wear pancake white makeup and paint stars on their faces."

Quatre set aside his newspaper and studied Relena as she smoothed away any wrinkles in Trowa's jacket and straightened his tie. She was dressed in a stunning designer gown of dark blue satin, the diamonds at her throat and in her ears twinkling in the light as she moved. Men would look at her twice tonight, and maybe that was what she needed to help move on from her soured relationship with Heero. Quatre needed a drink or one of his special cigars.

As if she could sense his gaze, she turned to look at him, and her brows were arched in surprise. "Aren't you going to the ball?"

"He doesn't have a suit," Trowa explained in a tone that suggested he didn't believe Quatre.

Relena frowned at him. "You wouldn't dream of insulting the president by not attending, would you?"

"Give him my sincere apologies. I don't care what load of shit you give as an excuse," said Quatre, returning her frown.

He noticed Relena and Trowa glance at each other with what appeared to be pity before Relena sighed. "Well, I guess I'm stuck watching Heero dance with Dorothy all night."

"Have a good time," Quatre told her without meaning it.

"I'll be down in a minute," Trowa told Relena.

Relena gave Quatre one last look as the butler settled her wrap over her shoulders. "I'm sorry that you're not coming to the ball. I'll give the president your regrets."

After she had gone, Trowa came to sit on the coffee table directly in front of Quatre. "So, are you going to sit here all night nursing your wounded pride and broken heart?"

"Why bother nursing it?" asked Quatre, not looking at his friend. "It won't heal anyway."

Trowa reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Take a chance, Quatre, because if you don't, you'll probably end up regretting it for the rest of your life."

Quatre looked at Trowa's face, and he managed to smile. "I'm sorry that we haven't kept in touch."

Trowa shrugged and stood, his hand still on Quatre's shoulder. "Whatever you do, I'm still your friend."

He watched him leave, then Quatre left the couch and walked over to the balcony. As he stood outside, he watched the sun set and thought about his behavior earlier, especially with Jamila. Quatre had thought he would be able to listen to Dorothy's explanation without reacting, but watching her fumble for the words to tell him how her relationship with Heero Yuy had progressed to something deeper, he had lost the ability to think clearly. Quatre knew that Jamila was probably hurt by his abrupt departure from her party, but he couldn't stay a moment longer. Seeing Dorothy with Heero Yuy was too painful for him.

When he had left L4, his hopes had been soaring, and now they were crashed. What would he do now? Spend his life looking forward to seeing Dorothy for a few minutes when they handed Jamila back and forth like a toy, knowing that he could have nothing but those few glimpses and the idle conversation they would make. Would that be enough for him? Would he one day meet a woman that could take her place in his heart? The thought formed a lump in his throat. There would never be another woman who could make him feel as she did! He couldn't be whole without her.

So why was he standing around on his balcony long for her while another man held her in his arms? Disgusted, Quatre strode into the suite, picked up the phone and called the front desk. He paced anxiously as he waited the thirty minutes it took for the response to his request. A tailor whose business was a couple blocks away arrived with several tuxedos and a handful of assistants, and between the lot of them they had Quatre dressed in less than an hour. The tailor was paid well for his trouble, and Quatre tipped his assistants probably a year's wage because they were speechless as they left tripping over their feet.

Calling for his limousine, Quatre rode down the elevator, alternating between trying to bolster his courage and berating himself for causing himself further pain and humiliation. Stepping out of the elevator, he ignored the photographers who seemed to leap out of no where to snap pictures of him, then signaled to his men with a snap of his fingers to follow him to the car. His heart was pounding, his stomach was churning and he felt light-headed as the limousine smoothly moved through the traffic toward the president's palace. He didn't know what to expect from Dorothy, but he couldn't fear her rejection now. He had too much to lose.

The ball had begun at seven o'clock. Quatre noticed by the clock in the car that it was now almost nine o'clock. He was beyond fashionably late, but by the standards of these affairs, no one would be thinking about leaving until well after midnight. His men escorted him to the door where uniformed Preventer agents stood guard. Quatre paused in the threshold, took a deep breath, then moved forward with his heart pounding so erratically that his knees started to feel wobbly, but he managed to make it to the entrance of the ballroom.

He stood at the top step to the sunken ballroom, waiting for an announcement, and seeing that the man responsible for the duty was already gone for the evening, Quatre looked out over the dancing couples. He spotted the man and woman he sought almost immediately. Dorothy was wearing a crimson chiffon gown that seemed to float around her, her skirt clinging intimately to the legs of her dance partner. She was gazing at his face, and he was saying something that made her smile.

Quatre's courage almost left him, but he hauled it back, then started down the steps, vaguely realizing that he had walked past the president of the Earth Sphere United Nation who had stepped forward to greet him with his hand extended. He couldn't breathe, he didn't know how he managed to keep walking, and if couples hadn't parted and drifted away to make a path for him, Quatre doubted he could have proceeded without falling into them and tripping over his own feet. By the time he reached them, he was dizzy and while he intended to merely tap Heero Yuy, his hand fell heavily on his shoulder when he almost lost his balance.

Staring at the two gowns that had been delivered to her house by the designer for her to choose from, Dorothy wasn't really looking at the form fitting black beaded gown or the crimson chiffon that would probably cling indecently to her despite the generous skirt. She thought many times about not attending the ball. Quatre didn't seem to like being pushed into a corner as she had done on their last trip to Barbados when she issued her ultimatum. The games they played with each other's feelings were ridiculous and childish, and if they didn't soon stop, not just Jamila, but another innocent child would be caught in the middle. Dorothy was going to have to act to put an end to this nightmare. She had made up her mind.

She would wear the black.

It fit her mood.

"Are you about ready up there?" Heero shouted up the steps, having arrived almost an hour ago. She hoped he wasn't getting drunk on her best wine.

"Just a minute!" she called back down, then noticed Jamila standing bleary eyed in the doorway, holding her teddy bear by its leg. "Oh, sweetheart, I didn't know you were awake!"

Jamila rubbed her eyes, yawned, then looked at the gowns hanging on the outside of the closet doors. "Are you going to dance with Papa?"

"I hope so," she told Jamila sincerely.

Dropping the teddy bear, she crossed the room, touched both gowns, then continued to rub the soft, willowy chiffon of the crimson gown. "Wear this one!"

"Hurry up!" shouted Heero from below. "The traffic is going to be hell if we don't get going now!"

Shrugging off her dressing gown, Dorothy quickly took Jamila's advice and pulled on the sleeveless, strapless gown, then bent down so that her daughter could help her with the zipper. The bodice was so tight that it pushed her breasts up and Dorothy remembered why she had decided on the black. She was going to end up spending the evening looking down to make sure she wasn't falling out of the heart-shaped bodice.

"It's pretty," Jamila announced.

Dorothy leaned down, opened the safe in her closet and rifled through the dozens of velvet covered cases until she found a set of garnets set in gold that closely matched the color of her gown.

"Two minutes!" Heero shouted up the steps. "I'm leaving in two minutes with or without you."

If Jamila hadn't been with her Dorothy might have responded with some choice words to blister his ears, but she wanted to set a good example for her daughter so she didn't say anything at all. As Dorothy clipped on her dangling earrings, Jamila worked to close the clasp of the heavy necklace. Although she finished long before Jamila, Dorothy waited patiently for Jamila to complete her task, and then she turned to kiss her.

"How do I look?" Dorothy asked as she twirled around before her.

"Good enough," said Heero Yuy from the doorway. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Jamila dashed to Dorothy's dressing table and hurried back holding her makeup case. "You forgot this!"

Heero looked at her arsenal, then made a sound of disgust and disappeared from the doorway. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," she heard him mutter as he headed back downstairs.

Dorothy sat at her dressing table and carefully applied her makeup while Jamila watched, looking from Dorothy to the mirror and back again, asking exactly what she was doing and why. Dorothy explained, and after she had finished, she put a bit of lipstick and blush on Jamila, which delighted her daughter. After dabbing rose scented perfume on her wrists and at the pulse on her neck then on Jamila's nose, Dorothy finally slipped on her sandals and grabbed a sable stole from the closet.

"Be a good girl and don't give Rashid or Mrs. Milton any trouble tonight." Retrieving the teddy bear from the floor, she took Jamila's hand and led her across the hall to the room that Dorothy had once decorated for her baby. Now it was the room of a little girl, pink and white, yet with the same faded teddy bear wallpaper she had put on the wall herself almost six years ago with loving care in anticipation of bringing her baby home to this room.

After helping Jamila into her pajamas, Dorothy waited patiently as Jamila went through a ritual of prayer in Arabic, and when she was finished, she helped her into the bed and kissed her forehead.

"I'm going to see Papa tomorrow," Jamila reminded her. "Tell him not to forget."

Dorothy caressed her cheek and pushed back stray platinum wisps of hair from her face. "He won't forget, Jamila."

Jamila pulled her teddy bear close to her and closed her eyes. "Good-night, Mama."

Heero was pacing when she came into the living room. He stopped to look at her, then huffed with exasperation. "Did you have to dress like that?"

"Sorry. I'll go put on a pair of coveralls if it makes you feel safer." Dorothy tossed the stole to him. "Put it on me unless you want to wait for me to stuff the goods back in my dress if I have to do it myself."

"I'd be happy to," he said as he quickly draped the stole over her shoulders. "Relena had better not be wearing something like this."

"I believe that hers is black and also has slits up both sides." Dorothy smiled when Heero frowned darkly.

"Barton better keep his hands to himself."

Before she left, Dorothy stopped in the kitchen to inform both Rashid and her housekeeper of her departure. Rashid was enjoying a plate of cake left from the party as Mrs. Milton dealt him a hand of cards. The scene would have been warmly domestic if it weren't for the long-barreled pistol lying on the table near his hand.

Dorothy was annoyed that Heero was still driving the car Quatre had left for him, partly because she disliked the sports cars, but mostly because she didn't enjoy fitting herself in the passenger side while wearing a gown worth enough money to feed a family of four for a year and a stole that would buy them decent housing. She grit her teeth when Heero slammed the door before she could get her skirt completely in the car.

"I think I know why you and Relena don't openly date," she remarked as she opened the door and pulled her skirt inside before he had a chance to pull away from the curb.

Surprisingly, Heero didn't drive nearly as recklessly as Quatre so Dorothy could relax and did not have to grip the door handle until her knuckles were white. In fact, his careful driving was so completely opposite of Quatre's that she caught herself wishing he would go just a little over the posted speed limit. When he stayed behind an elderly woman on the freeway instead of passing her, Dorothy lost her patience.

"I'd like to get there tonight," she commented.

"I'm not in all that big a hurry now," said Heero. "I don't know what Winner is going to do."

Dorothy laughed. "You're not afraid of him, are you? He's not violent."

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out, flipped it open and answered. She couldn't glean any information from his grunts, so she didn't bother trying.

After snapping it shut and slipping it in his pocket again, he told her, "That was Trowa Barton. Winner's not going to attend. He left him sulking at the hotel."

"Damn him!" Dorothy spun to look at Heero. "Drive me to his hotel now!"

"We're going to the ball. Relena is expecting us. She thinks Quatre will break and change his mind."

"Great! Now I'm going to spend the evening hoping futilely that he'll show up!"

"At least you don't have to spend the evening looking over your shoulder," grumbled Heero.

Dorothy had no choice but to accompany Heero to the presidential palace and try to act as if she weren't seething with anger and ready to melt into tears. The president and his wife greeted her warmly and congratulated her on her charity work before asking about Jamila and expressing a desire to meet her.

As Heero took her wrap to check in, Dorothy looked about for Relena, and seeing her standing with Trowa Barton on the other side of the ballroom, she headed toward them, but she had to stop suddenly when she came face to face with Tracy James.

"Miss Catalonia! How nice to see you again!" The other woman's greeting embrace gated on Dorothy's nerves. "I was hoping you would be attending. Did Quatre Winner escort you?"

Dorothy made a mental note to ask Heero to frame her for a crime. "No, I am with Heero Yuy."

"I was hoping to arrange some photo opportunities to publicize the work of the Romefeller Foundation," said the other woman with a smile.

Dorothy raised a brow. "Are you asking on behalf of the Earth Sphere United Nation?"

To her surprise, Tracy's face grew pink. "I left the government public relations department. I've started my own business."

Left? Dorothy knew by the other woman's sudden embarrassment that she had been fired. She wondered whose toes she had stepped on. "Do you have a card? Maybe I'll give you a call."

Tracy fished in her handbag and handed Dorothy her embossed business card. "I'd love to work with you again."

Dorothy smiled as she noticed Heero approaching. "It was nice seeing you."

As the other woman drifted away, Heero took her place, plucked the card from Dorothy's hand and tossed it over his shoulder before putting his hand on her back and guiding her forward.

"So?" she asked with a raised brow.

Heero looked over his shoulder at Tracy James, then back to Dorothy. "So what?"

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her. Could be she was screwing the boss. Could be that the boss' wife received rather graphic photographs of their activities. Could be the boss had to fire her or face an ugly scandal and the loss of his own job."

"You haven't taken up photography, have you?" she asked with a raised brow.

He didn't answer because they joined Relena and Trowa. Trowa took Dorothy's hand and raised it to his lips, and she smiled at his suave façade now when that afternoon his face was brightly painted, and he had been wearing baggy, patched pants and gigantic oversized shoes.

"You look lovely, Miss Catalonia."

"And you look quite debonair, Mr. Barton."

Trowa glanced at Heero. "You don't mind if I dance with your date."

"Are you wearing a bullet-proof vest? I am."

Trowa chuckled as he led Dorothy to the dance floor. "I don't think Quatre is that desperate."

She took his hand and placed her other hand on his arm. "Do you think he is going to attend? I want a chance to explain."

Trowa began to sway with her to the slow, melodic strains of music. "He'll be here. I know how he feels. What I don't know, is how you feel."

"I haven't made a secret of my feelings," she said with a sigh. "I told him that I love him six years ago and my heart hasn't changed despite everything that has happened."

"I was hoping you would say that. I don't like seeing him with a broken heart." Trowa swung her around to dance in another direction. Dorothy was glad that she was feeling better or that move would have sent her racing for the ladies' room.

They danced for several minutes, and the conversation switched to Trowa's work. She wasn't surprised that his act was usually acrobatic because she could feel his sinewy muscles as they danced. Although he didn't usually perform for private parties, he was happy to go out of his way to entertain Jamila Al-Winner.

After he returned her to Heero at the conclusion of the song, she remained with Relena as the men left to find them something to drink.

"He's not going to come," predicted Dorothy.

"I have faith in him," Relena told her.

"I'm going to the hotel," decided Dorothy aloud.

The men returned, and Relena took the glass of champagne Trowa brought her and Dorothy had to settle with a glass of ginger ale. She danced with Heero then, and later she danced with Bill Morley who looked quite out of place in a tuxedo. He told her that he regretted receiving her resignation because he had some cases that she would be ideal for, in particular some nasty business on L2 since she was already acquainted with some of the principal suspects. Dorothy respectfully declined, and when she informed him why, he fell silent in embarrassment.

As the evening wore on, Dorothy's feet hurt from her sandals and she was giving up hope that Quatre would make an appearance. There had been no new arrivals at the ball for at least an hour, so she began to mentally plan what she would say to him at the hotel. She didn't care about her pride anymore. Maybe her love for him would be enough to keep their family together. Despite the stories she had read about him, Dorothy knew that Quatre wouldn't hurt her by seeing other women behind her back. She trusted him.

"I think it's my turn again," said Heero wearily.

"It is only nine o'clock," Dorothy commented as they found a place to dance on the crowded floor.

"My feet hurt and that vest was so damn hot I had to take it off." He swung her around as they danced. "Do you mind if Trowa Barton takes you home?"

"I think he came with Relena."

"I'll give him the car. You're going his way anyway."

Dorothy didn't say anything more as she danced with Heero, but after a moment, a strange tingle of excitement raced down her spine, and she looked over Heero's shoulder to see Quatre appear in the doorway.

"Did you shiver?" asked Heero suddenly.

Dorothy smiled up at Heero. "Keep dancing and shut up." She tried not to be obvious as she watched Quatre descend the steps without a proper announcement.

"Holy shit! He's here, isn't he? I just took the vest off ten minutes ago."

The president quickly left the discussion he was having with Relena to approach Quatre, but the latter blatantly ignored him as he stepped onto the dance floor.

"I can't breathe," Dorothy told Heero.

"I can't either. How close is he?"

The sea of dancers was parting for him as he took a direct route to them.

"Does he have something shiny and metallic in his hand?"

Dorothy looked up at Heero, and seeing that he was smiling down at her, she knew that he had been teasing. She returned his smile. "I think that you're safe."

But Quatre's hand came down on Heero's shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. They stopped dancing for a moment, and Heero glanced at Quatre's hard face before leaning to whisper in Dorothy's ear, "It's up to you now. Don't blow it." Then he stepped back, shoved his hands in his pants pockets and walked away.

Quatre took her hand, slipped an arm around her waist, and if he hadn't moved so swiftly into the dance, her knees would have given out. Her pulse raced as he swung her around, ignoring the other dancers who quickly moved out of the way so that Quatre Raberba Winner could monopolize the floor.

For several moments he didn't speak as his eyes locked on hers, and Dorothy didn't breathe as she felt her very soul touched by the intensity of his blue gaze. The music played on and on, repeating over and over again as they danced alone, gliding round and round the ballroom in perfect rhythm until he stopped abruptly and she fell against him.

As Quatre cupped her face with his hands, she steadied herself by gripping the lapels of his tuxedo. "I may be too late, Dorothy, but I have to tell you how I feel," he said softly. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you, Dorothy Catalonia. If you tell me that you love Heero Yuy, I won't cause the two of you any trouble, but I hope that you will give me a second chance."

She opened her mouth to tell him how mistaken he was, but he continued.

"I didn't want to fall in love with you, because I came to realize that I wasn't good enough for you. I proved myself unworthy of your love over and over again by not giving you my trust. I was a fool, Dorothy, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"You're right," she managed to say as she slid her fingers up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. "You were a fool. But I've never stopped loving you, Quatre, not even when the dream ended."

"What about Heero Yuy?" asked Quatre.

Dorothy smiled as she pulled his head down to hers. "I think he'll find a way to get over his heartbreak."

The following morning when Dorothy awoke, she felt disoriented, first because she didn't feel sick, and second because there was a warm body in her bed holding her close. Glancing up, she saw that Quatre was still sleeping, a peaceful expression on his mature, angelic face. Turning to look at the clock, she saw that it was still early and that she must have dozed less than an hour. Smiling, she stretched out against Quatre and slid her arm across his bare chest.

"I'm tired," he groaned, but he popped open an eye to look at her.

She rolled over on top of him and ran her fingers through his hair. "We didn't get a chance to talk much last night."

Quatre strained forward to kiss her lips, which were puffy and tender from unrestrained passion the night before. "We shouldn't talk. I might say something that will make you run away." His hands slid down her bare body and back up again. "I have a better idea."

Dorothy liked his idea, but she had something to tell him, so she rolled off before he could act on it. "I promise that we won't argue. And besides, this is my house and I'm not running away and leaving you in it. You'd smoke in the garden and kill my roses. But seriously, I have something to tell you."

The door to her room opened, and Jamila stood blinking at them for a moment before she dashed to the bed and hopped up, her sharp little limbs poking and kneeing in places that, from the wide-eyed, agonized look on Quatre's face, made him forget all about his earlier idea. "I knew you wouldn't forget, Papa!" But as she wriggled between them on top of the covers, she whispered to Dorothy, "Good idea, Mama. With Papa sleeping here, he couldn't have a chance to forget."

Quatre was trying not to let Jamila know how much pain he was in, and Dorothy was trying not to laugh. "Why don't you go back to your room and give us a chance to get up?" he suggested to his daughter when he managed to catch his breath.

Jamila ignored him as she looked at Dorothy again and whispered, "Did you tell him about my brother?"

Quatre raised his brows. "Brother?"

Dorothy smiled at him. "Do you remember that I was trying to tell you something yesterday before you decided to marry me off to Heero Yuy?"

"Mama is having a baby!" burst out Jamila.

His eyes widened with surprise, and for a moment Dorothy feared he would deny being the father. But he reached out to her and pulled her into his arms. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Not in at least an hour," she responded.

As he kissed her, Jamila hopped on the bed.

"We're going to be a family!"